Page 31 of Caper Crush
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“I have a feeling that a well-rested Miranda will be a better Watson.”
“Watson? Hey, I thought I was Sherlock.”
He smiles slightly. “We’ll see. See you tomorrow.”
He turns and leaves. I stand there holding a paper bag of paints, smiling.
Chapter eight
Whythepresslovesto torture me is another mystery I’ve never solved. I’m an easy target for the conservativeSquirrelas the weak flank of John’s political campaign. So whereasThe Intelligencerhas a small paragraph about how my painting was stolen,The Squirrelhas two paragraphs with the headline:Stolen Painting or Publicity Trick?Are they seriously implying that I stole my own painting to increase publicity? If that wasn’t bad enough, the article ends with: “… unless she stole it so Weeping Willow doesn’t have to cry over any negative reviews.”
I hateThe Squirrel.
And now John’s PR team is involved. Again. I’m like a budget item on his retainer: counter negative publicity about Miranda.
A navy car double-parks in front of me. I squeeze between two parked cars as William gets out of it.
“Q, eat your heart out. My roommate, Tessa, bought us spy tech devices yesterday. She gave them to me this morning. Here’s your walkie-talkie earpiece.” I give William his earpiece and explain how it works after stashing my portfolio in the back seat.
“We should practice the walkie-talkie app before we get there,” he says. “Why don’t you go stand over there by the tree and talk, and I’ll see if I can hear you in the car?”
“Good idea.” I walk down the block to stand behind the tree in its fenced-in bed so he can’t see me. I smile, bringing out Penelope’s novel from my bag, and start reading aloud. “His gaze pierced her as if he blamed her for everything. And then he turned away. She reached out to explain, touching his arm. He shook her off. ‘Haven’t you done enough? Just let me be.’ ‘Is that really what you want? Because I think there’s something here.’ And she pressed her lips to his.”
My phone crackles with William’s deep voice. “It works. We’re good.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to repeat that back to me? I should confirm you could definitely hear me.”
“I heard you. They were about to kiss. Did you just make that up?”
“Hmm … actually, they did kiss. Should I keep reading? I’m not sure you can hear everything.”
“All right. The last line was she pressed her lips to his.” His voice sounds abrupt.
“And you don’t want to hear what happens next?”
“I thought you wanted to track down your missing painting.”
“I’m coming.” I walk back to the car and slide into the front seat. The car is immaculate inside, as expected. “Are you sure you don’t want me to continue reading?”
He shakes his head, his lips curving into a half smile. “Too distracting. Anyway, we should discuss strategy. And should we turn on the ability to track each other—just in case?”
“In case one of us is kidnapped?” I ask skeptically. “No, it’s a good idea. Another source of information. Tessa also bought tracking devices.” I show them to him.
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I don’t know yet. But it seemed handy to have. You can follow it on an app.”
“I would hate to be followed,” he says.
“Did you see theSquirrelarticle?” I try to fasten my seat belt, which keeps refusing to clip in.
William turns and puts his hand over mine to click it in. His touch is warm, and I can smell the apple shampoo of his freshly washed hair.
“Sometimes it needs a little more force.” He checks the traffic behind our car and pulls out. “WhatSquirrelarticle?”
“The Squirrelaccuses me of stealing my own painting. I asked John’s PR team to see if they can determine the source. My agent, Jade, didn’t announce it, and the art gallery didn’t release it yet. So it could reveal the thief.”
