Page 68 of Scripted for Love and Poison
“I don’t care about pedestrian friendliness.” Luke fumed.
“Really? Since when?” Sol teased him.
“Just let’s please start walking so that Divya—and the prospective client—don’t hear us rowing.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, his voice edged with frustration.
“Are we going to argue?”
“Why did you tell Travis that you’d join him?” Luke finally blurted out.
“You couldn’t expect him to visit a potential killer by himself, no?” Sol asked Luke as they began walking along the tree-lined street filled with low-rise apartment buildings.
“Why not?” Luke said under his breath.
“Travis is obviously still processing what happened tohim. He was poisoned. We believe he wasn’t the intended target, but the fact remains he’s only alive because of a very annoying nut allergy he’s had—and dreaded—his whole life. And that conveniently saved him. We’re asking him to have a conversation with the person who could be responsible for his poisoning, and we’re arguing he has nothing to worry about. If he has nothing to worry about, I have nothing to worry about,” Sol said. “And I know Travis will feel better if I’m there.”
“Your bloody reasoning is bang on,” Luke admitted. “But, and I know I am going to sound extremely selfish, could you perhaps have thought about me?”
“Who do you think I was thinking about?” Sol stopped in the middle of the street, moving her hands and arms exaggeratedly while talking, the way she did when she was being funny—or starting to get angry. “You need this case solved. I did everything I could to guarantee Travis’s collaboration and, with it, hopefully we’ll get a resolution and a fast return date to London.”
“I didn’t mean to think about me because I want to go back to London—which I want,” Luke said, but his tone was no longer angered. “Or so that we could wrap up this case quickly. What I meant is that I’m going to be worried about Travis the whole time he’s with the suspected killer. The last thing I want is to also be worrying about you. I really don’t think straight when I’m worrying about you.”
“But you and Divya told me there was nothing to fear when you persuaded me to come with you folks and talk Travis into helping you,” Sol argued.
“And I really think there’s nothing to fear, because I genuinely think our killer is someone who only had one intended victim in mind and won’t want to get rid of anyoneelse,” Luke said. “But if you’re mixed up in it, that’s when I start fretting, and my head’s all over the place.”
“Got it,” Sol said. “I promise next time I end up inexplicably entangled in one of your investigations, I’ll show less initiative, and I may even listen to you if you ask me not to get myself in the middle of all the action. But you have to ask nicely.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, and he felt a big relief.
“I think we’ve been extremely good these past couple of days when it came to shagging, but there was still some more talking we could have done,” Sol said. “And just to be completely transparent, I worry about you too. I worry when you work until late at night or if, like in this case, you’re investigating a murder.”
“This is an exception. The cases I normally work on involve cheating, labor disputes and very inoffensive stuff,” Luke almost dismissed her, but then he thought better. “But I understand. You worry too. I think it’s part of this loving business we’ve gotten ourselves mixed into.”
They locked eyes for a few seconds, as if grasping all the new implications of their commitment, what they’d admitted feeling for the other, and what that would entail going forward.
“I get why you’re anxious. But I’ve already promised Travis that I’d be joining him this afternoon, and I’m not one who stands up her friends,” Sol said then. “Especially not when this friend in particular has promised to go shopping with me and show me all the secret spots from the Melrose Avenue vintage scene ...”
“Sol,” Luke pleaded.
“I promise I’ll be extremely careful, Luca,” she said in all seriousness. “And even if the most delicious things are offered to me, I won’t eat or drink anything.”
“Don’t even sip anything. We can’t risk a repeat poisoning even if we think it’s highly improbable,” Luke said, and he realized he was repeating those words more for himself than for her. Heknewshe was well aware of what she should and shouldn’t do. “And Divya and I will be right outside, available if you need us.”
“We know what the safe word is,” Sol said.
“I really hope you don’t have to use it.” Luke stared at her, his eyes searching for hers, and his hand went to her face, tracing it tenderly. They stood in the middle of the street in silence for a few seconds. He hoped his eyes were able to tell her everything he hadn’t been able to convey with words. In the end, he decided there was still something he needed to say. “I really love you. Please don’t get poisoned in bloody Los Angeles.”
34
Travis and Sol sat nervouslyon the luxurious couch Sol had found so incredibly comfortable the last time she’d been in that particular Hancock Park mansion. But now it was somehow not such a cozy experience. Had the sofa’s upholstery always been this scratchy? She even found the house uglier this time around. During her first visit, she’d admired the dark hardwood floors, built-in bookshelves, and fireplace. But she now found the place slightly old-fashioned and stuffy, and the bookshelves were suspiciously devoid of many books, considering the house belonged to an editor.
She kept thinking about their earlier visit to the chocolate boutique Cacao Vieille, which had confirmed some of the suspicions she and the detectives had been garnering. The fact that they seemed to be onto the right person made her feel even more uneasy.
She was also feeling a bit insecure in her casual style—her suitcase was still missing. But next to Travis, clad in a well-fitting tweed suit, she looked like a total Lululemon mom with her yoga pants and Luke’s sweatshirt.
“Almost there,” they heard their host from the kitchen down the hall. Sol and Travis looked at each other, worry etched in both their faces.
“You sure you don’t need any help?” Travis hollered to their host. He had tried for friendliness, but his tone had come out a bit nervous and strained.
