An answering machine message

The phone was ringing when I reached in to my pocket for my keys to the apartment. By the time I got the key in the lock it stop ringing and the answering machine picked it up.  The voice was masculine and had an accent that I could not recognize nor place, the name he gave was foreign yet familiar, as I dropped the stack of mail on to the counter and my purse on the back of the couch, I kicked off my shoes at the door.