Part 3 (1/2)
I saluted. ”You will tell me if you learn anything about that Wings truck, won't you?” I sort of begged.
”Since it appears to have been stolen to get to you, I will,” he said, ”if only for your own protection.”
”I appreciate that.”
The minute the door closed behind him, I turned to Eve. ”Put Dom's note in my purse, will you?”
She immediately swiped it from the newspaper and did exactly that.
”Change of plans,” I said. ”Wait on our customer, will you? I'm going upstairs to call Nick.”
”Is he on a.s.signment?”
”Yes, but I'm going to try to lure him home with the promise of a diamond heist, New York style.”
”What makes you think he'll leave the case he's already on?”
”I have my ways . . . with him.”
”Barf,” Eve said. ”TMI.”
I almost smiled as I climbed my enclosed stairway. In my nearly empty second floor: sewing nook in one corner, collection of caskets in another, and two, count them, two, horse-drawn hea.r.s.es to the side, I had plenty of room to pace. Which I did while I waited for Nick to answer his cell phone. Sometimes when he was on a.s.signment and he didn't want to be heard or noticed, he turned it off. This could be one of those times.
I was just about to give up when he answered. ”Hey, ladybug,” he said. ”Sorry I took so long answering. I was in the shower.”
”Good; if you've got a shower, you're probably not in a jungle somewhere.”
”Great powers of deduction, but I'm home. I got in an hour ago.”
”Is my brother, and your FBI partner, home, too?”
”Dropped Alex off myself.”
”Good. I always do double duty in the worry department when you two are off on some top-secret a.s.signment. Dad will be glad to hear it, too.”
”I saw your father and Fiona strolling down your street as I drove by, so I stopped to say h.e.l.lo. Are those two an item?”
”Only in the minds of every Mystick Falls resident except them.”
Nick chuckled.
”I'm glad Dad knows you and Alex are back. Did you see the morning papers?”
”I'm sorry about your friend, ladybug. Want to come over and be consoled?”
”Yes, but not now. Want to come to New York?”
”When?”
”Now? I got a package from Dominique this morning with a cryptic note that I'd love for you to see.”
”I can read a note here.”
”Dominique's son, Kyle, needs my help with the publicity hounds and gossipmongers chomping at the bits on his front steps. Besides, I'm the executor of Dom's will. Werner says that the FBI is working the missing Pierpont diamond case.”
Silence.
I could hear the gears in Nick's brain start turning. ”I've worked with the New York office before.”
”I know. I was hoping you could connect, find out where things stand.”
”Why?”
”Dom sort of asked me to.”
”You only want me to go with you so you can use me.”
I smiled. ”So I promise not to use you.”
His growl radiated meaning. ”Wrong answer, but I'll change your mind. I'll pick you up in an hour.”
Not if I get to you first, I thought.
Nine.
Choose your corner, pick away at it carefully, intensely and to the best of your ability, and that way you might change the world.
-CHARLES EAMES Before I left, another odd customer showed, and Werner walked in behind him, as if the surly detective had been watching the place. He must have found the lip- glossed ski b.u.m cause for concern.
The man had black-and-white-streaked hair artfully arranged to look messy and wore a designer ski outfit and goggles. I'm just surprised he wasn't carrying a pair of skis.
He did not come from Mystick Falls.
The pieces of his Mount Tom garb fit together too well, down to his slightly worn ski boots. Like the Lady in Red, who still graced the store, it seemed as if a theatrical costumer had dressed him.
That's what they looked like, theater people, both of them.
Worse, they walked around the shop as if they were stuck to opposing ends of magnets, like one couldn't get near the other because the pressure against it was too great.
In Dante's chair and from behind Eve's newspaper, Werner watched them as covertly as I did. Frankly, he looked like a retro, poverty-stricken cliche of a PI. The only thing missing was the cigarette dangling from his lips.
Werner aside, why would I have two such bizarro customers in one morning?
My day felt oddly orchestrated and transiently surreal, more so than the dream that started it. I picked up my bag with the boxed dress and packaging in it, glanced back at my weirdo customers, and gave Werner a helpless look.