The Collector
Page 21

“Rough, but close.”
“And she’s a looker—just not obvious about it. Are you going to ask her?”
“It doesn’t seem appropriate.” He shrugged when Luke simply raised his eyebrows. “And yeah, appropriate’s not much of a concern to me when it comes to the work, but this situation’s . . . awkward. That’s what she called it. Awkward. Me, I call it f**ked to hell and back.”
“Semantics.”
That brought out a grin. “Yeah, words are words. Anyway, she’s probably had enough of me, and the cops. I’d say she’ll be glad to move on to the next job, the next place, so she doesn’t have to remember what she saw every time she looks out the window. Added to it, apparently her friend had a break-in the night after this happened. Or thinks she did.”
“It’s pretty clear when you’ve had a break-in.”
“You’d think, and I actually know the friend, which adds to the f**ked up. She manages one of the galleries I work with. Lila says somebody broke in and took makeup and shoes.”
“Come on.” On a snort, Luke lifted his beer, gestured. “Shoes in the back of the closet, makeup in some purse she’s forgotten she has. Case closed.”
“I’d say just that if I didn’t know the woman. She’s pretty damn steady. Either way, more cops, more upset, more . . .” He straightened from broody slouch to furiously rigid. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“She uses that address—that’s Lila’s listed address. Maybe somebody did break in, but not to rob the place. Looking for her. If I found out she was a witness, someone else could.”
“You’re looking for trouble, Ash.”
“No, if I was looking for trouble I’d’ve thought of this before. I’ve just been looking to get through. But when you step back, someone killed Oliver and his woman, tried to make it look like murder/suicide. She’s the one who reported it, who actually saw an altercation and the fall. And the day after it happens, someone just happens to prowl around in the apartment she’s listed as her official address?”
Concern moved over Luke’s face. “When you put it that way. Still, it’s a stretch. What kind of murderer takes makeup and shoes?”
“A woman. Maybe. Hell, a cross-dresser, a guy who has a woman he wants to impress. The point is it’s awful damn close. I’m going to check on her,” he decided. “And see if Julie’s had any trouble.”
“Julie?” Luke set his beer down. “I thought you said her name was Lila.”
“Julie’s the friend—mutual friend.”
Very slowly, Luke set his beer down again. “Julie. Art gallery. Since this is f**ked up to hell and back, tell me what this Julie looks like.”
“After a date? She’s a jackpot, not really your type though.”
Ash turned the napkin over, thought for a moment, then did a sketch of Julie’s face.
Luke picked up the napkin, studied it carefully, his face blank. “Tall,” he said after a moment. “Built. Texas-bluebonnet eyes. Redhead.”
“That’s Julie. You know her?”
“I did.” Luke took a long drink of beer. “I was married to her. For about five minutes. In another life.”
“You’re shitting me.” He knew about the impulsive marriage, the quick divorce—all when Luke had barely been old enough to buy a legal beer. “Julie Bryant’s the one that got away?”
“That would be her. You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“She manages a gallery. We’re professional friends. We don’t hang out—never dated, in case that’s an issue here. And she’s not your type. You usually go for the bouncing balls of energy, not smoking-hot class with a side of arty.”
“Because I still have the scars.” He poked a finger on his own heart. “Julie Bryant. Son of a bitch. Now this is awkward, and I need another beer.”
“Later. I need to talk to Lila, get more details on this break-in. I wasn’t paying attention before. You should come with me.”
“I should?”
“A murderer might be wearing your ex-wife’s shoes.”
“That’s ridiculous, and it was a dozen years ago.”
“You know you want to check it out.” Ash tossed some bills on the two-top, then shoved the napkin toward Luke. “Beer and pencil portrait on me. Let’s go.”
Lila considered grabbing a shower. Since she’d dived straight into the book that morning, and had broken to entertain Thomas by trying out one of the amazing Macey’s many workout DVDs, she probably needed one.
Plus, she and Julie hadn’t decided if they’d stay in and order in, or go out. Either way, since it was nearly six-thirty and Julie would be here before much longer, she really ought to clean up.
“I have book brain,” she told Thomas. “And the perky blonde on the DVD was a sadist.”
Maybe she had time for a hot—but reasonably quick—soak in the wonder tub. If she—
“Okay, no tub,” she muttered when she heard the bell. “She’ll just have to hang out while I grab that shower.”
She went to the door, pulled it open without thinking to check. “You’re early. I haven’t— Oh.”
She looked into Ash’s eyes, and her thoughts went into a chaotic avalanche. She hadn’t washed her hair in three days, she wore no makeup, and the yoga pants and sports top—both sweaty—she’d been meaning to replace for months.
She smelled like Pilates and the handful of Doritos she’d shoved in her mouth as a reward for the Pilates.
She managed another, “Oh,” when he smiled at her.
“I should’ve called. We were just a couple of blocks away, and I wanted to talk to you about something. This is Luke.”
Someone was with him. Of course someone was with him, she could see that perfectly well. She just hadn’t really registered the cute guy with the killer shoulders.
“Oh,” she said yet again. “I was working, then I decided to try this exercise DVD designed to make you cry like a baby, so I’m . . . Oh well,” she said as she stepped back to let them in.
It didn’t matter what she looked like, she told herself. It wasn’t as if they were dating. More important, he looked less strained than he had the last time she’d seen him.