Page 78 of Tested
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trajan
Do I want to know what David and Connor learned from the biscione? Not particularly. I care even less about whatever it is Connor is up to – although I have a pretty good guess. And I’m even less thrilled about David working with Connor.
Being a private investigator is not a game, at least not how Connor plays it.
Do I think it’s odd that Jacques ordered me to kill Connor and then Connor snuck over to Jacques’ house?Oddis the wrong word for it, and every time I try to find the right word, my mind shies away. I might have had a better sense of humor about the whole thing, but the damned police department still has my front yard and foyer blocked off with crime scene tape.
By the time I rise in the evening, the cleaning service has done their best. The cops are gone but so are Connor and David. I’d swear on my mother’s Bible that the feeling in my gut isn’t jealousy.
Or not only jealousy.
I put on Verdi and turn it up loud enough to scare away any visitors. Even wet and slicked with product my hair refuses to cooperate, so I let it hang. I dress in black because it suits my mood and I buckle a holster with a small six shooter around my lower leg.
Not because of Jacques’ command.
I’m doing my best to reconcile the month’s end inventory for one of my retail projects when someone knocks at the door. I check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed any texts and go downstairs to see who my visitor might be.
“Sheena.” I grab for her and drag her through the open door. “I’m so glad to see you.”
We embrace, my throat so choked with gratitude I can’t speak. She eases away first, keeping hold of my hands and giving me a thorough once-over.
“David said you might need some company, and I’m not working tonight so here I am.” She flashes me a grin. “Company.”
“Thank you. For a young pup, David’s pretty wise.”
We move in the direction of the living room, though half a dozen steps in, Sheena stops. “This place smells like someone’s tried to cover up a meth lab with Pine-Sol.”
“True.” I tug on her hand. There’s a remote on the coffee table that’ll bring Verdi down to a conversational level, so that’s where I go first. “You should have seen it last night.”
The music fades to background levels and Sheena sprawls out over the couch. “You want to talk about it? I’m happy to listen.”
I sit in the chair across from her, even though it puts my back to the window. “All right, here’s the skinny.”
“The skinny? What decade are we in, again?”
I wave her teasing aside. “When I rose yesterday, David told me he had reason to believe Connor had gone to Jacques’ house.”
“Wait. Connor saw Jacques on his own?”
She has a knack for hitting the sore spots. “Yeah.” I make an attempt to rake the hair out of my face, but it’s only partly successful. “At any rate, we’re all standing here with our thumbs up our butts—”
“Yuck.”
“Not literally.” She smirks at me and I scowl back. “We’re standing here staring at each other and someone throws a teargas canister through the side window. The whole place fills with smoke. Connor grabs us dishtowels to give us something to breathe through and I hustle David down to the pool. That stuff is awful, really bad.”
“It’s been years since I had the pleasure, but you’re right.”
“Connor tries to go out front to see if anyone’s lurking but he runs into the body.”
“That’s the pits, man.”
“Yeah, Seventies Mama, it was a major bummer.”
She laughs, which is a good distraction. Then she asks who I think is responsible, a subject I’ve been doing my best to avoid.
“I can think of a couple possibilities.” I pause and collect my thoughts. “Connor’s been working with the LAPD on a series of murders, and the victim seems to be tied to that.”
