Page 8 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
I shoved my bag beside me.
He shook his head and laughed briefly. “I forgot how observant you are. It’s good to see you.”
“You see me every day.” I didn’t take my coat off. I was still defrosting from being outside. I was perfectly amenable to a quick getaway. Meeting up with your ex-best friend turned enemy was slightly uncomfortable.
He shot me a disbelieving look. “I see your coworker face to face every day. You sequester yourself behind a counter somewhere.”
“Just part of the job.” I shrugged. It would be stupid to actively avoid someone every day. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.
“Anyway, it is genuinely good to see you.” He ran a hand through his shaggy dark seafoam hair. He regarded me with his coal-black eyes over the rim of the coffee cup. I was chomping at the bit to get to the point though.
“I was a little bit curious to get your message. I’m not sure what a barista can do for a police officer.” I cocked my head slightly to the side.
“Are we really doing this?”
At his flippant tone and raised eyebrows, I frowned. “Damien, I have no idea why I’m here. Can you spell it out for me please?” I was starting to get annoyed by the stonewalling. It didn’t help that I was hungry either.
He folded his hands and put them on the table, arching an eyebrow delicately. “Let’s just pretend we’re two old friends catching up and that I’m not conversing with one of the most prolific smugglers in the entire city.”
My face went stony as my heart started to do wind sprints. Fuck. I was burned. I’m not sure how but I got burned. Finneas was going to kill me. Heat rose into my face. I started to unbutton the jacket; I didn’t think I would need it now.
Stay calm Cora, stay calm.
I folded my arms to mirror him. Any good will I had towards this conversation was gone.
“That’s a nasty rumor to spread. Also, conjecture,” I replied, indignantly. Also, true.
He gave me a frank look. “Do you remember a few months ago, when the Rowlands thought one of their paintings was missing, made a fuss all over town, sent the department scurrying for days until it mysteriously showed up in their basement?”
I kept my face passive. “How clumsy of them.” Not only had I heard of them, but I precipitated most of that deal. When the MF got involved, Finneas thought I was sunk. I told him to have more faith in me. I put the forgery back into the basement while the police were interviewing the couple for the third time.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you were involved.”
My back stiffened more. “What proof do you have, officer? I’m no painter.”
He shook his head and sat back. “I didn’t think you painted the forgery, and it was a very detailed forgery. Too bad the forger forgot to age it up a bit.” He shrugged and pulled a bag out of his pocket. An evidence bag containing a few strands of blue hair. “I sat behind you for years in class. Don’t you think I know your hair?”
Damn it. Gods damn it. He was right. Nymph hair ran in a spectrum of blues and I was one of the only ones in the city.
“Could be dyed. Or a wig.” I took his coffee cup from the table and downed the contents. Ugh. Much sweeter than I preferred but I needed something for my dry mouth.
“You are correct. It could be. Suppose I DNA test it, out of due diligence. See, the Rowlands wanted to call the whole thing off. They were convinced it was the husband’s failing memory. We couldn’t say otherwise of course, because they were convinced they had their painting. But how many times had I heard your dad speak about restoration, Cora? What will I find when I test this?” He slid the bag in front of me. “Not to mention the suspicion within the MF that there is a network of thieves within town. I just put two and two together.”
My face contorted in rage but I continued to speak in low tones. “I don’t appreciate being threatened. If that identity was mine, I’m sure you’d consider any resources I have at my disposal that aren’t necessarily legal. Which is, as of right now, slander and hearsay.” I leveled him with a glare. “Make your point now or I’m leaving.” This was getting vexing. Why did I agree to this again?
He took the bag from the table and tucked it back in his pocket.
“Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to threaten you. I was hoping you would willingly comply with what I was asking. Something I have—hadwas circulated through the black market. I need it back.”
OK, depending on what the object was and when it was moved, it was possible. This may not turn out to be so bad after all. I sat back and relaxed a bit. His face remained passive, stony.
I waved a hand at a nearby waitress. Maggy set down a menu and glass of water which I started to gulp. After she left, I spoke again, slightly intrigued. “I might be able to help you. Is this for a case? Mostly I do antiquities or art. I also expect a handsome retainer fee.” I set down the water expectantly. “What’s the item?”
In response, he pulled down the zipper to his quarter zip and the neck of the white T-shirt underneath to revealhis breastbone. There was a perfect scar going down, barely noticeable.
Time stopped. My blood froze. Oh no. Oh no no. My eyes bulged out of my head. “You did not!” I whisper-yelled at him. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I told the force it was an accident and needed a minor surgery.”
