Part 21 (1/2)
And Aaron was becoming a mind reader. ”Sounds like Robin Hood's getting to be a pain in the a.s.s.”
”What do you mean?”
”I couldn't help overhearing. You know, Stretch, you might want to keep your distance with Zack. He's been acting kind of strange since Mercedes died.”
So would you if you thought you were the one who killed her.
But of course I couldn't say that. ”Surely it's not all that strange to enjoy my company?”
”That's not what I mean, and you know it. He just strikes me as being kind of a weird kid. And I think he might have lied about his background to get on at the Sentinel. I was talking to a friend of mine in Boston-”
”Boston? I thought he was from St. Louis.”
”No, he told Paul he was with an on-line start-up in Cambridge, and he came out here after the company went belly-up. But my Boston buddy says he never heard of them.”
Poor Zack, trying so hard for his fresh start. He must not even want to mention St. Louis.
”These little companies come and go all the time,” I said. ”Your friend can't know all of them. Why were you investigating Zack, anyway?”
”I wasn't investigating,” he said sheepishly. ”I just thought it was odd. Besides, Zack is starting to look familiar to me, like I've seen his picture somewhere.”
A likely story, I thought. You re jealous! Zorro was jealous of Robin Hood. I was tempted to tease Aaron about it, but really, it was kind of sweet. So I changed the subject instead.
”There's a left turn coming up,” I said. ”Pete's is two blocks after that. I can't wait to get my van back.”
Pete had Vanna parked right out front. The repaired fender was smooth and seamless, the copper-colored Made in Heaven logo gleaming in the mild winter sun. I could feel my cramped muscles relaxing just to look at her. No more soup cans! I gave Pete a hug and a hefty check, and climbed happily behind the wheel, sliding the driver's seat all the way back with a satisfied sigh.
”You look like a kid with a new toy,” said Aaron, smiling at me through the open window.
”Now if I could just sleep for about sixteen hours, I'd feel like a kid. Thanks for the lift. And...”
”And what?” He paused in the act of pulling out a cigarette, and quirked one eyebrow.
”And thanks for galloping in to my defense. Really.”
”You're welcome. Really.”
Aaron leaned into the window for a kiss, and this time I gave as good as I got. Then he walked over to his VW-he looked good from the back, too-and drove off. His apartment building was on the sh.o.r.e of Lake Union, not far from my houseboat, and somehow I liked that sense of him being nearby.
As I put Vanna in gear, marveling at the absence of clanking noises, I decided that Bonnie Buckmeister's wedding wasn't the only thing I'd have to focus on after the EMP ceremony. My relations.h.i.+p with Aaron Gold was right up there at the top of the list. Maybe I wasn't quite so wounded after all.
Back at the office, Eddie had arrived-he kept his own hours-and was playing with his pet software, his white hair ruffled and an unlit cigar clamped in his teeth. When I came in he stood up and stretched, then squared his shoulders. Eddie has the best posture in the world.
”I saw the note you left me,” he said over the hum and grunt of our bottom-of-the-line printer. ”How's Vanna?”
”Good as new, if not better.”
”And this fellow that killed the bridesmaids, he got arrested downstairs this morning?”
”Yep.”
”Right after you start dating a cop. Funny coincidence.”
”It is, isn't it?” I said airily.
But he wouldn't be put off. Folding his arms, he said, ”Carnegie, you been up to something?”
”Not a thing! All that matters is that Foy is locked up, and Lamott/Wheeler is on schedule for Sat.u.r.day. In fact, I have Elizabeth coming by tomorrow morning, so could you update her budget report?” Cunningly, I went for the sure-fire distraction. ”I don't suppose you've got it in your new program yet...”
Eddie snorted, happily indignant. ” 'Course I have! And it's our program, sister. We're in the twenty-first century now. You better start learning this stuff yourself.”
He went on grousing gently, while I settled in at my desk with a smile of contentment. You couldn't say all was right with the world, but it was a d.a.m.n sight righter than it had been yesterday. I called Lily at the library to tell her so but got her voice mail, so I left her a cheery message, made myself a cup of stomach-settling instant soup at our little one-burner kitchen in the corner, and got down to work.
Ten minutes later, I gave up.
”Eddie, I'm half-asleep. I'm going to take Vanna to the supermarket, and then I'm going to shut off my phone and crash.”
”Let me take a look at her before you go.”
”Sure.”
We stepped to the office door, but when I opened it there was a woman standing outside, evidently about to knock. An attractive woman: a youthful fifty, maybe fifty-five, small and slender with a tip-tilted nose, warm wide eyes the color of maple syrup, and chestnut hair that fell in loose waves against the shoulders of her stylish wool coat.
”Oh!” she said, in a soft, burbling voice. ”You must be Carnegie Kincaid. And this is your partner, Mr. Breen. I looked you up on the Internet, you know! Now, is it Ed or Eddie? No, never mind, it doesn't matter, because I'm going to call you Edward. You have that kind of dignified air about you.”
”Well...” said Eddie, who never bantered with women. Ever.
She was inside by this time, looking around delightedly. ”What adorable wicker furniture! You know, Edward, I'm the kind of person who loves things or hates them, and I just love wicker. Wicker and chintz.” She perched herself on the love seat and sparkled up at Eddie, who was still finding his voice. ”I guess I'm just a country girl at heart.”
”I'm so glad you like the office,” I said, a.s.suming an air of suave professionalism while I futilely racked my brain for a name, or at least a function. Vendor? Potential client? It wasn't like Eddie to forget an appointment, but the way things had been going lately, it was a lot like me.
”I'm afraid I don't recall-”
”How silly of me!” She laughed, one of those silvery-ripple laughs that some women have. ”I thought you knew I was coming. I'm Monica Lamott.”
O-ho, I thought. So this is Monica, lover of Lars, betrayer of Burt. So much trouble in such a sweet little package.
”Nice to meet you,” I said, sitting down myself, though even then I topped her by a foot or so. ”I wasn't expecting you until the rehearsal.”
”Well...” Eddie muttered. ”Well, I'll just take a look at that fender on the van.”
Monica watched regretfully as he sidled out the door. She had a sweet tooth, I could see, not so much for men as for men's attention.
”You've been on the East Coast?...” I said delicately.
”With Lars. We hardly got out of bed for days.” The mother of the bride shook back her hair and closed her eyes with a reminiscent sigh. So much for delicacy. Then she frowned a pretty little frown. ”But all that changed when he made it to the semifinals. When Lars is this close to winning, he gets ridiculously single-minded, if you know what I mean. An absolute monk! He's afraid I'll break his serve.”