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Authors: Annette Blair
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be so important? And why was it necessary for him to run, because whether he got into my shop or not, he had planned to relocate.
“"I slept here last night,”" Eve said with no thought but to exonerate us.
“"Congratulations,”" Werner said. “"You may well be sleeping in jail tonight.”" He urged us toward the kitchen.
At least he hadn’'t taken out his handcuffs. Yet. My father was not going to like bailing me out of jail. “"But we had a key,”" I reiterated, “"and Vinney knew she was coming here tonight. It’'s not our fault the guy’'s a lousy communicator.”" On our way out the door, Werner behind us, I saw a quality sweater on the back of a kitchen chair, Armani, maybe. I didn’'t dare touch it, though I wanted to. “"Eve, you forgot your sweater.”"
She stopped and I walked into her, pressing a finger into her ribs.
“"Oh, right. Thanks, Mad.”" She turned back, saw it, and grabbed it. Werner took it from her and looked it over: V-neck cardigan, primo label, black, thank goodness, and handed it back to Eve.
Yay, something of Vinney’'s to wrap my psychometric mind around. It certainly looked old enough to be readable. Older than Vinney, maybe.
Werner put us in the backseat of a squad car, the Wiener. How mortifying. “"Can one of your officers drive my rental, Detective? I have to return it in good condition.”"
“"Anybody else but you, Cutler—--”" He opened his hand. “"Keys?”" Chakra caught his hand in a playful swipe. She liked him. Go figure a cat’'s taste in men.
He took her paw and shook it. “"Nice to meet you. Again.”" I gave him my keys, and he threw them to an officer, gave his own to another, stood a distance away to use his cell phone, then he got into the passenger seat of our squad car. “"I want to keep my eye on the perps,”" he told the driver.
Did he wink? Nah, he couldn’'t have. Too human, though shaking Chakra’'s paw leaned in that direction and gave me a little flutter.
He’'d saved Chakra once. Nick had dropped her the first time they heard her roar, but Lytton caught her. On the other hand, she was a cat. She would have landed on her feet. But Lytton had recognized her yowl as sounding like my name, like Fiona and I did, and he wasn’'t ashamed to admit it.
Too bad I had the unique ability to suck the nice right out of this man. I leaned my brow against the window beside me wondering if this would be a bad time to report my two break-ins. Probably. But the longer I waited, the mad der the Wiener was going to get. Guess I should stop worrying about whether to try to solve Tunney’'s case for now. I not only had break-ins against me to worry about, I had to deal with a breaking-andentering charge of my own. If I couldn’'t help myself, how could I help Tunney?
How could I not?
I wondered again who, or what, the foot bones belonged to. And why had I said
“"Isobel”" without knowing it, when I was about to look in a well?
I shivered involuntarily and Eve tried to hand me the sweater. I reacted with horror by leaning as far back against the corner of the seat as I could, while I regarded her as if she had two heads.
“"Oh,”" she said, realizing it’'d be embarrassing if I zoned and called Isobel—--or Ingrid, or Irmingard—--in front of the Wiener.
“"Oh, what?”" Werner asked, but before either one of us could form a lie, a call came over the radio that he took, speaking in tongues, though I thought I caught the word
“"inferno.”"
“"Detour,”" he told his driver, who seemed to get his drift. Werner also took a call on his cell phone, gave them an “"affirmative,”" and hung up. At one o’'clock in the morning, West Main Street beamed as bright as day. Brighter. Fiery bright.
“"My building!”" I shouted and burst into tears.
Fourteen Every single item you put on your body literally shouts out your unconscious dreams and desires to the entire world.
—--CYNTHIA HEIMEL
“"The playhouse is gone,”" I said
“"I slept here last night,”" Eve said with no thought but to exonerate us.
“"Congratulations,”" Werner said. “"You may well be sleeping in jail tonight.”" He urged us toward the kitchen.
At least he hadn’'t taken out his handcuffs. Yet. My father was not going to like bailing me out of jail. “"But we had a key,”" I reiterated, “"and Vinney knew she was coming here tonight. It’'s not our fault the guy’'s a lousy communicator.”" On our way out the door, Werner behind us, I saw a quality sweater on the back of a kitchen chair, Armani, maybe. I didn’'t dare touch it, though I wanted to. “"Eve, you forgot your sweater.”"
She stopped and I walked into her, pressing a finger into her ribs.
“"Oh, right. Thanks, Mad.”" She turned back, saw it, and grabbed it. Werner took it from her and looked it over: V-neck cardigan, primo label, black, thank goodness, and handed it back to Eve.
Yay, something of Vinney’'s to wrap my psychometric mind around. It certainly looked old enough to be readable. Older than Vinney, maybe.
Werner put us in the backseat of a squad car, the Wiener. How mortifying. “"Can one of your officers drive my rental, Detective? I have to return it in good condition.”"
“"Anybody else but you, Cutler—--”" He opened his hand. “"Keys?”" Chakra caught his hand in a playful swipe. She liked him. Go figure a cat’'s taste in men.
He took her paw and shook it. “"Nice to meet you. Again.”" I gave him my keys, and he threw them to an officer, gave his own to another, stood a distance away to use his cell phone, then he got into the passenger seat of our squad car. “"I want to keep my eye on the perps,”" he told the driver.
Did he wink? Nah, he couldn’'t have. Too human, though shaking Chakra’'s paw leaned in that direction and gave me a little flutter.
He’'d saved Chakra once. Nick had dropped her the first time they heard her roar, but Lytton caught her. On the other hand, she was a cat. She would have landed on her feet. But Lytton had recognized her yowl as sounding like my name, like Fiona and I did, and he wasn’'t ashamed to admit it.
Too bad I had the unique ability to suck the nice right out of this man. I leaned my brow against the window beside me wondering if this would be a bad time to report my two break-ins. Probably. But the longer I waited, the mad der the Wiener was going to get. Guess I should stop worrying about whether to try to solve Tunney’'s case for now. I not only had break-ins against me to worry about, I had to deal with a breaking-andentering charge of my own. If I couldn’'t help myself, how could I help Tunney?
How could I not?
I wondered again who, or what, the foot bones belonged to. And why had I said
“"Isobel”" without knowing it, when I was about to look in a well?
I shivered involuntarily and Eve tried to hand me the sweater. I reacted with horror by leaning as far back against the corner of the seat as I could, while I regarded her as if she had two heads.
“"Oh,”" she said, realizing it’'d be embarrassing if I zoned and called Isobel—--or Ingrid, or Irmingard—--in front of the Wiener.
“"Oh, what?”" Werner asked, but before either one of us could form a lie, a call came over the radio that he took, speaking in tongues, though I thought I caught the word
“"inferno.”"
“"Detour,”" he told his driver, who seemed to get his drift. Werner also took a call on his cell phone, gave them an “"affirmative,”" and hung up. At one o’'clock in the morning, West Main Street beamed as bright as day. Brighter. Fiery bright.
“"My building!”" I shouted and burst into tears.
Fourteen Every single item you put on your body literally shouts out your unconscious dreams and desires to the entire world.
—--CYNTHIA HEIMEL
“"The playhouse is gone,”" I said
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