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spectacular view of the mountains and lights of the city," I said,
laying the groundwork for my ultimate rejection of the property.
Linda looked at me curiously. "Why do you want to move?"
"I miss having a yard. I'd love to grow vegetables and herbs."
She leaned in and said confidentially, "There's a fertile spot by
the garage."
I nodded. "I saw that, but I'd miss my swimming pool and
workout room."
"Are you out much?"
"Out?"
"Out and about?" she said, deep dimples emerging with her
"Out and about?" she said, deep dimples emerging with her
smile. "I don't know if you're familiar with this area, but from
here, you can walk to Washington Park, Cherry Creek Mall and
Old South Gaylord."
"That's convenient."
"Did you grow up in the Denver area?"
"I did. In Centennial, off Arapahoe Road," I answered candidly.
Why lie when it didn't matter? "How about you?"
"Minneapolis."
"You're a long way from home."
"I moved here after college, with my . . . friend. Are you in a
relationship? I'd put a second name on the lease if you are. Or
leave it off, whichever you prefer."
I cleared my throat. "Er, no. I'm not."
"Are you leaning toward taking the house?"
"A slight tilt," I said, allowing a half-smile. "The rent's a little
steep. I'm paying twelve hundred now."
"That is a jump."
Linda had quoted eighteen hundred dollars for the nine hundred
 square-foot, red-brick Tudor. The interior was dated but
clean, and the house was situated on a large lot with mature
landscaping. The layout consisted of two bedrooms and a full
bath upstairs, with an extra bedroom and three-quarters bath in
the basement. Thousands of similar Tudors were sprinkled
around the metro area some in better shape, some in worse
but few came on the market as rentals, almost none in Bonnie
Brae. At least that's how Linda had positioned the property.
Brae. At least that's how Linda had positioned the property.
"It's worth every cent, but I have to decide what I can afford."
"You could get a roommate to help offset expenses."
"I'm past that," I said lightly. "No roommates. Not unless they're
sleeping in my bed."
Linda studied me with an air of quiet amusement. "Is there
anything I can do to persuade you?"
"No. I love the house and block. I just need time."
"Don't wait too long. I have two more sets of people coming by
this week."
"I'll do my best." I punched the remote to unlock my Honda. "I'd
better get going. It was nice meeting you."
She leaned against the front panel of my car and ran a hand
through her hair. "Likewise. I hope I'll see you again."
"You might."
"Call me if you have any questions."
My mouth felt dry. "I will."
She lowered her voice, almost to a whisper. "Or need anything."
We shook hands, and I climbed in and started the car engine.
"Okay."
"Thanks for coming." Linda gently pushed the door shut and
tapped a farewell on the window as I drove away.
When I came to the four-way stop at the end of the block and
glanced in the rearview mirror, I could see her standing on the
sidewalk, staring my way. I looked at my watch in disbelief.
How could only twenty minutes have passed since I'd parked in
front of the house? It felt as if I'd put in a ten-hour shift, a notion
confirmed by the armpit stains on my blouse.
confirmed by the armpit stains on my blouse.
Damn that Fran Green for talking me in to decoy work.
Never again.
I spent the rest of Thursday afternoon subjected to Fran's ribbing
for my failure to elicit anything incriminating from Linda Palizzi.
She joked that I'd lost my "mojo." She nitpicked the tape to
pieces, pointing out every opportunity I'd missed to "go in for the
kill." She went on about my laxity in not loosening one more
button on my shirt.
While I found none of this funny or supportive, I really didn't
appreciate the fact that she refused to accept my resignation. She
insisted I bring the Herbert-Palizzi case to a conclusion before
rushing to judgment about our Test-A-Mate business.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I copied the tape for Roxanne Herbert, left a message on her cell
phone and fled the office in order to put the whole mess out of
my mind.
On Friday, when Fran and I met again, we avoided discussion of
decoying only because she had more important news to share,
information she'd gathered from the trooper who had processed
Alex Madigen's accident scene.
Saturday afternoon, Fran and I delivered the findings to Alex in a
meeting that was awkward, to say the least, but it wasn't until
Monday morning that I discovered the full extent of the
consequences.
CHAPTER 10
"I don't want her coming back," Alex said to me at the start of
the workweek. I'd found her in the activities room, seated at the
the workweek. I'd found her in the activities room, seated at the
piano but not playing.
I retrieved a folding chair and scooted next to her, and the closer
I came, the more her appearance alarmed me. She looked
drawn and pale, and her eyes were almost swollen shut.
"Could you repeat that?" I said, not sure I'd heard correctly over
the clamor of five residents who had gathered around a nearby
table.
"I don't want her coming here."
"Who? Stacey? Your mother? Dianna?"
She tossed back her head. "Your associate."
I gulped. "Fran Green? Why?"
"She distracts me. I want to focus on you."
"Me?" I said, sounding like I had a bubble in my throat.
"Only you. Too much stimulation makes everything blurry."
"Fran can be stimulating," I conceded with a smile. "Still, I
thought it would be easier if she explained the details of the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]