A Perfect Stranger. Jenna Ryan
We both know how this stuff sells, and you’re shutting me out.”
“All I want to shut right now is the door.”
Reaching back inside, Darcy snagged Elaine’s wrist. “Give me a break, okay? It’s a thousand degrees today, my landlady’s given me five casseroles that no one with half a brain would eat, and if you think the cops are keeping me apprised of the investigation, you’re wrong.” At the elevator bank, she pressed Down. “I answered questions, gave my statement, answered more questions, then went home and spent the rest of yesterday and most of last night refining an article you insisted had to be done by Monday. Be happy. It’s only Saturday, and there it is, in your freshly manicured hands.”
Elaine admired her fingernails as they boarded the elevator. “I got the works for my date tonight.”
“Yeah? Are we talking hot stud at last?”
“So-so. He’s the CEO of a cable station that aspires to rival CNN.”
Darcy let her eyes sparkle. “Does personality enter the picture at all?”
Elaine’s lips smiled, her eyes didn’t. “I’m fifty-something, kiddo. I’ve been married twice and lost money both times. I want Ebenezer Scrooge this time. Rich and stingy—except when it comes to me. Barring that elusive miracle, I’ll have to hope and pray our little newsmagazine can break a story that has our big Manhattan brothers scrambling to catch up.”
“So that would be a no to the personality question.”
On the street with the burn of the early-evening sun on her shoulders, Darcy let Elaine pull her to a stop. “Get me an exclusive, okay? The magazine needs it. Your coworkers need it. I need it.”
“I’ll do my best.” Darcy tweaked her editor’s collar. “In the meantime, go home, cool down, get ready for tonight. I’ll see you Monday.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
It was the tone of her voice more than her words that echoed in Darcy’s head.
Too revved to return home, she detoured to the gym, the wonderfully cool gym with the fitness instructor whose hot body paled next to the memory of a certain P.I. she was determined to run, punch or meditate out of her system.
Of course it didn’t work, but then she didn’t expect it to. Any man whose face haunted her patchy sleep wasn’t likely to be blown off that easily.
After showering, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a white tank top, packed her gear and headed for home.
Her arrival was greeted by a barking dog and the lingering traces of a barbecue. Mrs. Brewster’s cat, Hodgepodge, lay on his back on the sidewalk with his paws in the air. Overhead, a faint breeze rustled the neighborhood trees.
Crouching as she passed, Darcy tickled Podge’s tummy and received a yawning meow in response.
She realized with a twinge that she’d forgotten to set her house alarm when she’d left today. Foolish? Yes. But on the plus side, the front hedge had been trimmed as promised, and there was still a glimmer of light in the sky.
Her cell phone rang while she was climbing the porch stairs.
She glanced at the screen. “Oh, good. Perfect.” She flipped it open. “I thought you’d be long gone by now, Marlowe.”
“Guess we both thought wrong.”
“So are we talking choice here or police order?”
She imagined his faint smile. “You found the body, Darcy.”
“After you got us into the motel room.”
“What can I say? Val’s captain’s a fan.”
“Which means you’re staying by choice, then.”
“A dead client in a bathtub isn’t good enough reason to stay?”
She dropped her keys in a bowl, her purse and gym bag on a high-backed chair. “Aren’t you the one who said he didn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody—what was it your friend called you— M?”
“Val can’t get his tongue around my name after a few drinks. Calling me M is the simple solution.”
“Your friend had more than a few drinks last night if the coat I saw on his tongue today was any indication. I’m going out on a limb here, Marlowe, but I’d speculate that Detective Reade has some serious issues in his life.”
“And you know someone who doesn’t?”
Removing the bush hat she’d bought in Sydney, she shook her hair. “Tell me, have you always lived on the dark side?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Darcy.”
“To which you give very few answers.”
Wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear, she reached into the cupboard. “I saw your Land Rover at Hannah Brewster’s this morning. I’m sure she was delighted to talk and talk and talk to you, but I could have saved you the headache and told you she didn’t see or hear a thing Thursday night. If she had, the guy who attacked me wouldn’t have made it out of the yard.”
“Thanks for that.”
“No offense. She just goes into superhuman mode in times of trouble, which, frankly, I’m surprised she missed that night.”
“She misses more than you think.”
Darcy dropped three large ice cubes into a glass. “Sorry, I’ll need a hint for that one. Has something else happened?” When he didn’t answer, she frowned. “Marlowe?” Sighing, she opened the fridge. “Come on, it’s too hot for games. What is it you know that I don’t?”
“Look behind you, pretty lady. You’re not alone.”
Darcy’s heart leaped into in her throat. Her fingers froze on the handle.
The voice hadn’t come from her phone.
Chapter Four
Darcy realized who it was a split second before the heel of her hand snapped to his throat.
“You,” she stated thirty minutes and a short, temper-cooling walk later, “really need to break that habit of yours.”
A step behind her on the crowded street, Marlowe grinned. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
“I’m not. I’m projecting.” She turned to walk backward on the sidewalk. “It’s how I work off being mad.”
“Would’ve been faster and easier if you’d just laid into me at your house.”
“I still can, if it’ll make you feel better. You’ve got the potential to be a great second-story man, Marlowe. I have a finicky lock on an obscure cellar door that doesn’t even read like a door anymore, and you go all Sherlock Holmes on me and find it. Point made? No. You have to jimmy the thing, wait for me to come home and set me up with a phone call. If I’d had a knife in my hand at the time, you might not be enjoying this or any other night scene ever again.”
His gold eyes tracked her past an open bakery and on through a collection of outdoor café tables. “Which says to me, my point still hasn’t been made.”
“No, I get it.” She turned back to navigate a crosswalk. “One, I should always set my alarm. Two, I should replace any faulty locks. And three, since I didn’t do any of those things, you decided to show me that what you managed to do with a minimum amount of effort, someone a whole lot more lethal could also do. I’m not arguing, Marlowe, and I won’t make those mistakes again. So can we please move on and get a hoagie?”
“Sounds like— Careful.” Reaching out when she turned to face him once again, he steered her around a man in a MEDIchair.
“You’ve