There was a shifting of the shadows at the back of the shop. Singleton materialized, silhouetted against the blue-green glow cast by his computer screen.
If you saw him on the street and did not know what he did for a living, Ethan thought, you would never guess that the guy was an antiquarian book dealer. On the surface, there was nothing of the academic or the scholar about him.
Singleton was built like a rock. Not just any rock, a large chunk of granite. He was the size of a small mountain. He appeared to be in his fifties. Like stone that has been exposed to the elements for a few eons, he had weathered some but he sure as hell had not softened.
His skull was completely shaved. It gleamed, as if it had been oiled. The tendrils of elaborate tattoos peeked out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of a faded denim shirt. He had the face of a really bad-news pro wrestler.
Singleton peered at him through the lenses of a pair of round, gold-rimmed spectacles. “Got my message, I see.”
“It was waiting for me when I arrived at the office this morning.”
Singleton snorted. “Heard you come in half an hour ago. Running a little late today, aren’t you?”
“Didn’t know you were paying such close attention to my schedule.”
“Hard to avoid it, seeing as how we’re the only two tenants in the building at the moment and your office is right overhead. I hear everyone who goes up or down those stairs.”
“I was a little busy yesterday. Out late with a client last night.”
Singleton leaned his elbows on the counter and looked interested. “About you being busy yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“I read about Mason and the blood-stained bed and the shootout in the papers. Pretty exciting stuff. By any chance was that you ducking bullets?”
“How did you guess?”
“Not a lot to do around here,” Singleton said. “So I sit around and speculate. I remembered your little lady client going up and down the stairs and the paper mentioned an unnamed woman at the scene. Also, I recall you going out early yesterday morning and not coming back all day. And then you’ve got the fact that Radnor is more into corporate security and such. Can’t see any of his people turning up a blood-stained bed. I sort of put two and two together.”
“You should have been a detective.”
“Don’t think so. Guy could get himself killed with the kind of detecting work you did yesterday.”
“It was the client’s fault.” Ethan crossed to the glass counter. “Personally, I prefer to avoid that kind of exercise whenever possible.”
“Blame it on the client, huh?”
“Sure.”
Singleton looked knowing. “So you were out late explaining your point of view on the subject of reckless endangerment to your client?”
“Something along those lines.” Ethan shrugged. “The good news is that my client’s name didn’t appear in print. She’ll be happy about that.”
“I don’t blame her. Probably not good for her business to have it going around that she was involved in a situation that got her client’s newly decorated house shot up.”
“Probably not.”
“On the other hand, it would have been a nice bit of advertising for your business if your name had made it into the article.”
“Win some, lose some.” Ethan braced both hands on the wooden edge of the counter. “Where’s my journal?”
“Got it right here.” Singleton turned partway around and plucked a large envelope off the desk behind him. He handed the package to Ethan. “Located it through an online dealer I know who specializes in private journals and diaries of the twentieth century. I paid extra and had it shipped overnight.”
“I’m impressed.” Ethan opened the envelope and removed the slender, leather-bound volume. “I did a search online myself before I came to you. Found some leads to the newspaper coverage of the murder but no trace of the journal.”
“The Internet has done a lot for the antiquarian trade,” Singleton said. “But like any other business, you’ve still got to have connections to find the good stuff.”
Ethan examined the book. The leather was cracked but the pages were in excellent condition. He examined the first words in the journal. They had been written down in a strong, flowing script.
The Journal of Abner Bennett Foote
Anticipation whispered through him. He turned to an entry at random and read the first few lines.
“. . . Nightwinds is finished at last. My beloved Camelia now has a setting that befits her extraordinary beauty. . . .”
Ethan closed the journal. “I’m in luck. Foote’s handwriting is clear and legible.”
Singleton’s brow wrinkled. “Mind if I ask why you wanted his journal? Is it because you’re living in that old house he built?”
“Indirectly.” Ethan slipped the book into the envelope. “It’s the death of Camelia Foote that really interests me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I research old murder cases.” Ethan pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “It’s a hobby.”
“Huh. Didn’t know she was murdered. The story is that she got real drunk at a big party out at Nightwinds years ago and died in a fall in the canyon.”
“That was the official verdict. But the old newspaper accounts imply that there were plenty of rumors of murder at the time. A lot of people, including the local chief of police, apparently suspected that her husband killed her in a jealous rage.”
“Unusual hobby,” Singleton said. “But when you get right down to it, I guess it’s not that much different from playing chess online.”
“You do that?” Ethan handed over his credit card.
“Among other things.” Singleton swiped the credit card through a machine. “Once upon a time, I used to work for a think tank. Specialized in cryptography. I’m out of the business now, but the chess games are a way of keeping my hand in, so to speak.”
“Cryptography? As in computer security and encryption?”
“Yeah.”
“You must be good.”
“Used to be. I pretty much burned out.”
“But you can still find your way around on the Net?”
“Sure.”
Ethan took the credit slip and signed it. He picked up the book and paused.
“You ever do any freelance consulting?” he asked.
“Not for a long time. What did you have in mind?”
“I sometimes need the kind of deep background information that it takes a real expert to pull off the Net. I can get the standard info from the usual sources, but I’m not what you’d call a computer whiz. There are times when I need someone who can dig deeper and faster. I can’t afford the guy I used to use in L.A. You interested?”
Singleton pondered that. “You can’t afford the other guy? That doesn’t sound so good.”
“Truax Investigations is a small business. Still in the start-up phase. You know how it is.”
“Hell, why not?” Singleton grinned. “Might make for a break now and again. The book trade is interesting and I’ve got my chess games, but I don’t mind telling you that it gets a little dull around here from time to time. My social life has been sort of nonexistent since my wife left.”
“I know the feeling. Why’d she split?”
“She said I did not show a sufficient interest in upward mobility. Something to do with my refusing to join the Desert View golf club, I think.”
Ethan nodded. “My third wife said something along those lines, too.”
“Yeah? What did the other two say?”
“First one said she’d married me by mistake. The second one said I was not good at communicating. I think maybe she was trying to be polite.”
“What’d she really mean?”
“That I was boring.”
The phone rang just before noon. Zoe grabbed it.
“Enhanced Interiors.”
“I see you finally made it into to work,” Ethan said.
T
he tiny knot of tension, which had settled in the pit of her stomach and which she had been determined to ignore, eased.
“You should have awakened me before you left,” she said crisply.
“Figured you needed your sleep. The nightmare you had seemed to take a lot out of you.”
“Mmm.”
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Fine, thanks.” Time to change the topic. “By the way, I saw the newspaper. Nelson Radnor is a sneaky bastard, isn’t he? Imagine him letting that reporter think his company was involved in solving the murder of Jennifer Mason. Talk about nerve.”
“I’d rather talk about your bill.”
She glared at the photo of Nightwinds on the wall. “You’re supposed to be a little more diplomatic and suave when you bring up the subject of money. You sound a trifle mercenary.”
“Only a trifle? I’ll have to work on that. Look, you operate a small business. You know how important it is to keep up with accounts receivable. You want to come to my office this afternoon after you close for the day? We can go over the details together.”
Be still my beating heart. “Why don’t you just put the bill in the mail?”
“It’s sort of complicated, what with our little agreement to take it out in trade.” Ethan paused a beat. “You do remember that part, don’t you?”
“I remember.”
“Good. I’ve been thinking it over and I’ve decided which room I want you to redecorate.”
“How big is it?” she asked cautiously.
“Big enough. It’s my bedroom. I’ll take you out there so you can have a look at it.”
His bedroom. Oh, gee.
“I don’t know if I’ve got time this evening,” she said uneasily.
“Afterward I’m going to take my nephews and their mother for pizza. You’re welcome to come along.”
So very casual, she thought. Just a throwaway invitation. But it left her temporarily speechless. Going out for pizza with the family. It sounded so normal, the sort of thing that real people, living real lives did.
“I’d like that,” she finally said. “I’d like that very much.”
At five-o’clock that afternoon, she sat in the jaws of Ethan’s outsized client chair, the copy of her bill from Truax Investigations on her lap, and fumed.
“Five hundred dollars in miscellaneous expenses?” She raised the neatly itemized bill and waved it in the air. “That’s ridiculous.”
Ethan lounged back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms, fingers together. His feet, shod in running shoes, were stacked on the corner of his desk. He made a what-can-you-do sound with his tongue.
“Cost of bribes, like everything else, has gone up,” he said.
“You should have cleared the amounts with me before you handed five hundred dollars over to that guard and the man at the storage facility.”
“Wasn’t time to call you. In both instances, I had to make executive decisions on the spot.”
“Executive decisions, my big toe. I’ll bet you would have been a lot more economical about it if it was your own money you were throwing around.”
He tapped his fingertips together and looked authoritative. “The information and access I obtained with the bribes were vital to the successful closure of the case.”
“Something tells me you could have obtained that information for a lot less money.” She spotted another item on the bill and was immediately consumed with fresh outrage. “What’s this about travel expenses? You told me you would cover your own travel expenses.”
“Only within the local area. I had to drive outside the city limits of Whispering Springs to investigate the storage locker facility.”
“Meals?” She stabbed a finger at another item on the bill. “You’re billing me for the sandwich and coffee you had while you were out of town?”
“A man’s got to keep his strength up.”
Before she could move on to the next ridiculous charge, she heard the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs. The voices of two young males echoed in the outer office.
“Uncle Ethan, is she still here? You didn’t take her to your house yet, did you?”
“Mom made us stop at the stupid mall. That’s why we’re late.”
The door of Ethan’s office slammed open. Two boys garbed in jeans, tee shirts, and running shoes charged into the room. Zoe recognized them as the youngsters she had nearly collided with on the stairs on the occasion of her first visit to Truax Investigations.
They halted and stared at her with ill-concealed fascination.
“Oh, wow,” the older one said. “She’s still here.”
Ethan surveyed the two invaders. “Allow me to introduce my nephews. Jeff and Theo, meet Ms. Luce.”
“Hi.” Theo said.
“Hello, Ms. Luce,” Jeff said.
“Nice to meet you,” Zoe said politely. She wondered what she had done to warrant so much interest on the part of two small boys.
Jeff turned to Ethan. “Can we go to your place now?”
“Yep.” Ethan glanced at his watch. “Where’s your mom?”
“I’m right here,” said a warm voice from the doorway.
Zoe turned her head and saw an attractive woman with short, curly, light brown hair. She was dressed in a pale yellow blouse and chocolate brown trousers.
“I’m Bonnie Truax.” Bonnie smiled. “The mother of these two ghouls. You must be Zoe.”
“Yes.” I’m going to like her, Zoe thought. “How do you do?”
She was about to ask Bonnie why she had referred to her sons as ghouls, but before she could frame the question, Ethan got to his feet.
“Come on, folks, let’s get going,” he said. “We’ll run over to my place, show Zoe the room she’s going to redecorate, and then we’ll do the pizza thing.”
“Can I ride with you, Uncle Ethan?” Jeff asked.
“Me, too,” Theo said. “I want to be sure to see what happens when Ms. Luce checks out the inside of your house.”
Ethan looked at Zoe and Bonnie. “Why don’t we all go in my car and from there to pizza?”
“Cool.” Jeff dashed through the door.
“See you downstairs.” Theo raced after his brother.
“Wait for us in the hall,” Bonnie called after them.
“Okay,” Jeff yelled back over his shoulder.
Both boys pelted down the stairs and disappeared.
Zoe looked at Ethan. “Is there something I need to know about your house?”
“Needs some work.” Ethan stood aside to allow Zoe and Bonnie to go through the door.
“Work is right.” Bonnie made a face. “Didn’t Ethan tell you? He bought Nightwinds, that pink blob just outside of town.”
Zoe stopped at the top of the stairs, startled. “That big Spanish Colonial out on the cliffs? Good grief, it’s huge. And it was built back in the late 1940s, wasn’t it? I’m sure it’s got a lot of atmosphere, but I’ll bet it is one heck of a money pit.”
“Got a deal on it from my uncle,” Ethan said.
“Victor knew he’d never be able to sell it to anyone else,” Bonnie said. “So he practically gave it to Ethan.”
“What can I say?” Ethan shrugged. “Uncle Vic saw me coming.”
Zoe started down the stairs, following Bonnie.
“Be careful of really good deals when it comes to very old houses,” Zoe said. “The upkeep is usually enormous. But I must admit I’ll be interested to view the inside. Why are Jeff and Theo so eager to see my reaction to the place?”
Bonnie glanced back over her shoulder. “Ethan more or less promised them that you would collapse and start twitching at the sight of the interior of Nightwinds.”
Zoe shot Ethan a disgusted glare. “Thanks a lot.”
“He implied that your delicate designer sensibilities would not be able to withstand the shock,” Bonnie added.
“Really?” Zoe smiled coolly at Ethan. “Obviously you know nothing about the fortitude required of a suc
cessful interior designer.”
“I didn’t a few days ago when I first made that prediction,” Ethan agreed. “But I’ve got to admit that yesterday was a real eye-opener for me.” He lowered his voice and leaned in close, speaking directly into Zoe’s ear. “Learned some interesting things last night, too. Do all you decorator types go in for matching underwear?”
It wasn’t his words that made her blush, she thought. It was the low, sexy, cheerfully wicked tone. Mercifully, Bonnie, who had reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped outside, had not overheard.
There was no sign of Jeff and Theo at the foot of the staircase.
“I told them to wait in the lobby.” Bonnie came back into the hall, looking worried.
Her sudden anxiety was a bit over the top under the circumstances, Zoe thought. The boys could not have gone far and, while Cobalt Street was a little on the shabby side, it was not dangerous.
“Take it easy, Bonnie,” Ethan said quietly. “Jeff and Theo are fine. I have a hunch they’re in the bookshop.”
Zoe heard the calm, steadying note in his voice. He was accustomed to reassuring her, she thought.
At that moment Jeff’s voice drifted out of a partially opened door. “Who wants to buy old books like this?”
There was a dark rumble by way of a response.
“Do you have any games on this computer?” Theo asked.
The bear in the bookshop rumbled again.
Bonnie relaxed visibly. “Sounds like they’ve found someone else to pester.” She went toward the door. “I’d better rescue the poor man.”
“Got a hunch Singleton can take care of himself,” Ethan said.
But Bonnie had already vanished through the opening.
Zoe followed and reached the door just in time to hear Jeff make introductions in an excited voice.
“Mom, this is Singleton Cobb. He owns all these old books.”
“He said Uncle Ethan bought one,” Theo offered. “And he’s got some neat games on his computer.”
Zoe peered through the gloom. Her first thought was that Singleton Cobb looked like an aging biker. But there was a quiet good humor in his eyes that did not fit that image.