Страница 39 из 86
<p> “Of <i>course</i>, meaning you,” she snapped. “What other controlling, know-it-all relative do I have in the backseat? Is Mom in your pocket?”</p>
<p> Eamon pulled the car to a stop before I could think of a suitably acid reply to any of that. Probably for the best. The sedan wasn’t big enough for a real girl fight, and the bloodstains would never come out of the upholstery.</p>
<p> “Home sweet home,” he said with just the right touch of irony. “Sorry, I’ve given the staff the day off. Do forgive the mess.”</p>
<p> It was a trailer. Not a very big one-not one of the kingly double-wides, like the one across the road. And it was dented, faded, and run-down. There were some cheerful window boxes, but they were full of dead plants; what a shock. I couldn’t see Sarah as the getting-her-hands-dirty gardener. Apart from the bold landscaping choice of a chain-link fence around some struggling, sun-blasted grass, there wasn’t much to recommend the place.</p>
<p> “Nice,” I said noncommittally, and got out to follow Eamon toward the aluminum Taj Mahal.</p>
<p> It wasn’t any better on the inside, although it was darker. The smell was a little strange-a combination of unwashed towels and old fried fish, with a little stale cat litter thrown in-and as I blinked to adjust my eyes I saw that the place must have been bought fully furnished. Matted, ancient gold shag carpet. Heavy, dark furniture that had gone out of style twenty years ago, at least. Clunky, vegetable-colored appliances in the small kitchen. There were dips in the carpet that I suspected meant rotting floors.</p>
<p> Still, they’d made an attempt. The place was mostly clean, and it was also mostly impersonal, with only a few personal items-Sarah’s-in view. A trashy candy-colored book on the coffee table, facedown. A wineglass with some sticky residue in the bottom next to it. A fleece robe flung over one end of the couch, and I hoped it didn’t belong to Eamon, because pale pink wasn’t really his color.</p>
<p> Eamon swept the place with a look, tossed his keys on the counter, and turned to face me. It was my first good look at him, and I wasn’t disappointed. My sister <i>did</i> have good taste in exteriors, at least. He wasn’t gorgeous, but he was nice-looking, with a clever face and a sweet smile. The only thing that bothered me about him were the dark, steady eyes that didn’t quite match the rest of his expression.</p>
<p> “Jo,” he said, and opened his arms. I took the cue and hugged him. He had a strong, flat body, vividly warm, and he didn’t hang on an inappropriately long time, though he gave good value for his five seconds. When we parted again, his eyes were bright, almost feverish. “I’ll tell you the honest truth: It’s good to see you again,” he said. “I know I speak for Sarah when I say that we were worried when you dropped out of sight. Where have you been?”</p>
<p> I had no idea what span of time that covered, of course, not that I was going to tell him that. “Around,” I said, and smiled back. “I’m parched. Can I get something to drink?”</p>
<p> “Of course. Sarah.” He said it as if she were his servant, and I saw her frown work its way deeper into her forehead. Couldn’t blame her on that one. I wouldn’t have appreciated it, either. Still, she wandered into the kitchen and started rooting through cabinets, assembling me a drink. She didn’t ask what I liked. I guessed either she already knew or didn’t care. “Please, sit down. Tell me what happened to get you into this problem.”</p>
<p> “Mistaken identity,” I said, but I obeyed the graceful wave of his hand toward the couch. Eamon took a chair next to it. “Nothing to tell, really. They think I killed a cop.”</p>
<p> “Ah. Which cop would this be?”</p>
<p> “Detective Qui
<p> “I see. And did you?” he asked, not looking at me. He needed a haircut; his brown, silky shag was starting to take on a retro-seventies look that made him look a little dangerous.</p>
<p> “I can’t believe you asked me that,” I said, which was a nice nonanswer. “What do you think?”</p>
<p> “I think that they’re talking about Orry, aren’t they?”</p>
<p> “Thomas Qui
<p> He shot me a quick, unreadable glance. “Oh,” he said. “I see. Not the same person, then.”</p>
<p> I covered with a noncommittal shrug. Eamon smiled slightly, and then moved back in his chair as Sarah came toward us with drinks. Eamon’s was clearly alcohol-something amber, on the rocks-and mine was just as clearly not. It bubbled with carbonation. I sipped carefully, but it was just Coca-Cola. No rum, no whiskey. It was even diet.</p>
<p> And yes, it was delicious. My body went into spasms of ecstasy over the faux-sugar rush, and it was all I could do not to chug the entire thing in one long gulp.</p>
<p> Sarah perched on the arm of Eamon’s chair, her own glass clutched in one long-fingernailed hand. She needed a manicure, and she didn’t need to be drinking whatever was in that glass, which wasn’t likely to be as i
<p> “Water under the bridge,” he said. “Now. Just so we understand each other, Jo, I did put up your bail money. It wasn’t purely because I like you, although I do…or because I love your sister, although I do love her, obviously. It’s because I have a business proposition for you, and I thought this might be an opportunity to have your full and undivided attention while we discuss the details.”</p>
<p> What kind of business did I have with Sarah’s boyfriend? I felt a growing sense of disquiet, and it wasn’t anything I could put my finger on… Eamon’s body language was kind, gentle, unaggressive. His eyes were bright and his smile a bit too sharp, but that might have been my own paranoia. Yes, the trailer wasn’t a Malibu beach house, but it wasn’t exactly a horrifying dump, either. Sarah was on drugs-I was nearly sure of that-but that didn’t mean danger to me, only to her.</p>
<p> And yet. And yet.</p>
<p> “A business proposition,” I repeated, locking gazes with Eamon. “Go on. I’m all ears. Anybody who puts up bail money gets that much.”</p>
<p> His smile got wider. “You might not recall, but I had a small business venture under way in Florida when you arrived back there and took up residence. I was investing in construction with some silent partners. I was hoping to revive that effort, maybe do something on the West Coast for a change. I’d like to have your commitment to be involved.”</p>
<p> “I’m not really up for investing,” I said. “What with the murder charge, and the fact that I seem to be ru
<p> Something flashed in his eyes, and I had no idea why he’d find that fu