promise never to make again.”
Lea stood, staring down at him for a full minute, and Nick felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Her purple eyes were slightly enlarged behind the black-rimmed glasses as she studied the nonchalant manner in which he sprawled in her brother’s old chair. Restlessly, she moved towards the filing cabinet. A tidy office, Nick was reminded once again how messy and disorganized his own appeared. Of, course that was a misconception many made. He knew where everything was and could find it in an instant and while he’d been tempted to hire a secretary Nick enjoyed the solitude and chance to ponder his cases uninterrupted. He sorely needed that privacy considering his methods.
Lea’s office, however, was so painfully neat it made him downright uncomfortable. Everything was labeled clearly and so excruciatingly ordered that he longed to toss a wad of paper upon the floor or disorganize those neat manila folders resting upon her wide desk.
Actually, Nick realized, as he stared at the desk, that it was a beaute; an antique made of rich maple and polished to an unlikely luster. It was at least six feet in length by three feet wide. A brand-spanking-new computer rested on the right-hand side of its brilliant surface, presenting the user with a large monitor that must have cost her a small fortune. A matching maple shelf organizer rested on the left-hand side of the immaculate desk, accompanied by a shiny black speakerphone-combination -fax on the far right. An embossed leather pad two feet square had been recessed into the desk, providing the perfect writing surface. If the lovely desk was any indication, Lea Fox was a real professional.
“Nice desk,” he tried cordially.
Lea snorted. She had moved to another maple filing cabinet and yanked open a heavy drawer. “Wish my investigative talents could warrant as much attention as my father’s old desk,” returned the dowdy woman.
Nick sensed anger and something else he couldn’t name behind the flippant words. Lea Fox briskly rustled through dozens of files, pulling out a few here and there before replacing them neatly, clearly not finding what she was searching for, or pretending not to, he suspected.
Nick took this time to study the petite woman more closely as she jerkily proceeded through the files. Her dark-rimmed glasses did nothing for her oval face and only managed to intensify her old schoolmarm appearance. A teacher from his youth, Sister Theresa, reminded him of Fox, and he rubbed his knuckles in remembrance of the sharp rap of her ruler freely administered when he wasn’t paying attention. She was tiny, a full foot shorter than he, and her violet eyes were distorted under the concealing glasses with brows that could use a thorough plucking and cleaning.
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she valiantly searched through the endless files. She resembled an awkward teenager who hadn’t learned how to make the best of what little she had. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was hiding behind a uniform of dowdiness. She gave a small shriek of triumph and flung a big file atop the magnificent desk. Lea Fox shoved the heavy cabinet door closed with a bang. Her outdated tweed dress made her resemble some elderly misplaced Brit in the Big Valley. In fact, as he surveyed the small woman before him and the trappings of the too neat office, he noted that everything had a frayed, almost worn-out look that spoke of better days and richer times.
The desk, the faded Persian rug, the roller chairs—everything had the same antique appearance the woman reflected. She resembled some librarian or schoolteacher from the 40s or 50s who had passed her prime and was suddenly expected to function in the twenty-first century. His head jerked to attention, as he realized she’d noted him studying her.
“Not to your liking?” she stated abruptly.
He flinched. Nick had heard those words before, but they had been directed at him, and
Lea stood, staring down at him for a full minute, and Nick felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Her purple eyes were slightly enlarged behind the black-rimmed glasses as she studied the nonchalant manner in which he sprawled in her brother’s old chair. Restlessly, she moved towards the filing cabinet. A tidy office, Nick was reminded once again how messy and disorganized his own appeared. Of, course that was a misconception many made. He knew where everything was and could find it in an instant and while he’d been tempted to hire a secretary Nick enjoyed the solitude and chance to ponder his cases uninterrupted. He sorely needed that privacy considering his methods.
Lea’s office, however, was so painfully neat it made him downright uncomfortable. Everything was labeled clearly and so excruciatingly ordered that he longed to toss a wad of paper upon the floor or disorganize those neat manila folders resting upon her wide desk.
Actually, Nick realized, as he stared at the desk, that it was a beaute; an antique made of rich maple and polished to an unlikely luster. It was at least six feet in length by three feet wide. A brand-spanking-new computer rested on the right-hand side of its brilliant surface, presenting the user with a large monitor that must have cost her a small fortune. A matching maple shelf organizer rested on the left-hand side of the immaculate desk, accompanied by a shiny black speakerphone-combination -fax on the far right. An embossed leather pad two feet square had been recessed into the desk, providing the perfect writing surface. If the lovely desk was any indication, Lea Fox was a real professional.
“Nice desk,” he tried cordially.
Lea snorted. She had moved to another maple filing cabinet and yanked open a heavy drawer. “Wish my investigative talents could warrant as much attention as my father’s old desk,” returned the dowdy woman.
Nick sensed anger and something else he couldn’t name behind the flippant words. Lea Fox briskly rustled through dozens of files, pulling out a few here and there before replacing them neatly, clearly not finding what she was searching for, or pretending not to, he suspected.
Nick took this time to study the petite woman more closely as she jerkily proceeded through the files. Her dark-rimmed glasses did nothing for her oval face and only managed to intensify her old schoolmarm appearance. A teacher from his youth, Sister Theresa, reminded him of Fox, and he rubbed his knuckles in remembrance of the sharp rap of her ruler freely administered when he wasn’t paying attention. She was tiny, a full foot shorter than he, and her violet eyes were distorted under the concealing glasses with brows that could use a thorough plucking and cleaning.
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she valiantly searched through the endless files. She resembled an awkward teenager who hadn’t learned how to make the best of what little she had. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was hiding behind a uniform of dowdiness. She gave a small shriek of triumph and flung a big file atop the magnificent desk. Lea Fox shoved the heavy cabinet door closed with a bang. Her outdated tweed dress made her resemble some elderly misplaced Brit in the Big Valley. In fact, as he surveyed the small woman before him and the trappings of the too neat office, he noted that everything had a frayed, almost worn-out look that spoke of better days and richer times.
The desk, the faded Persian rug, the roller chairs—everything had the same antique appearance the woman reflected. She resembled some librarian or schoolteacher from the 40s or 50s who had passed her prime and was suddenly expected to function in the twenty-first century. His head jerked to attention, as he realized she’d noted him studying her.
“Not to your liking?” she stated abruptly.
He flinched. Nick had heard those words before, but they had been directed at him, and
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