“They’re going to make you give that gun back.”
“Yes, I suppose they will. Len, if you need a ride, come on.”
“Sure.”
She clicked her car open and they walked the few feet remaining to reach it. Len settled in next to her. “You’re very mysterious, you know.”
“Just tired.”
“Tense. Want to stop somewhere for a drink?”
“I never drink and drive.”
“You can drink, and I’ll drive.”
She found herself cracking a smile at last as she looked at him. “That wouldn’t help. This is my car. You’d be stuck at Nick’s.”
He looked straight ahead. “I wouldn’t mind being stuck at Nick’s.”
Ashley caught her breath, keeping her eyes on the road. “Len…”
“Yeah, I know. You were too busy with the academy to be interested in a relationship. Well, you’re out of the academy now.”
“And starting a new job. The training is overwhelming.”
“Overwhelming. Right. You know how many times someone gets offered a position like that out of the blue? When dozens of people would love to have it? You may find you’ve made some enemies, Ashley.”
She frowned, feeling his bitterness. “I also spent my first day as a civilian employee in the morgue on one of the most god-awful assignments I may ever get. And for your information, I worked my ass off in the academy, and I’ll be working it off again now!”
“Right. Getting buddy-buddy with the big-time detectives.”
Her breath caught. His manner was strange, as if she had betrayed him in some way. “Forensic artists probably do work frequently with the detectives. It only makes sense.”
“I think we both know what I mean.”
“What do you want me to say, Len? I never wanted to hurt you, but I never encouraged you. Besides, I have a gorgeous friend who’s crazy about you, and you’re completely cavalier about her.”
“Karen,” he murmured.
“Yes, Karen.” She took a breath. “Len, look. I guess it’s good that we’re having this out. I like you. You’re a good guy, and I’d like to be your good friend. But…”
“I’m not man enough for you, is that it?”
“Len, what is the matter with you?”
“Sorry.” He looked straight ahead. “Man, I am being a jerk.”
“Karen is nuts about you, you know.”
“Oh, yeah. Karen.”
She shook her head. “Len…where am I taking you?”
“Just drive to Nick’s. I’m off duty. I’m going to have a drink.”
“And how are you going to get home?”
“There’s this thing called a taxicab. If all else fails, I’ll call one. Don’t worry, I won’t be coming after you to give me a ride later.”
“I don’t mind giving you a ride, but…”
She hesitated. But she had things to do tonight.
“I’m just really tired tonight,” she told him.
“Ashley, it doesn’t matter. I told you, if all else fails, I’ll grab a cab.”
“All right.”
She drove to Nick’s and parked. Len was still stiff as he got out of the car. He followed Ashley as she walked across the terrace and into the bar. Katie was behind it.
“Are Nick and Sharon back?” Ashley asked.
“No, sorry. They haven’t returned yet.”
Ashley nodded, hiding her disappointment. She slid around behind the bar to get Len a beer, hoping he would have a drink and lose his grudge, then head on home. She noticed that he was at the counter between Sandy and Curtis. The three of them were already talking about an accident that had occurred that day on the Palmetto Expressway.
He thanked her for the beer. She nodded, and said hello to the others. Then she asked Katie if things were all right, and when Katie assured her that everything was completely under control, she slipped on through the back to the house.
For a long moment she stood in the living room.
Sharon.
Sharon Dupre had sold the property to its current owner. She had nearly dropped clear through the asphalt. And now, when she really needed to talk to Sharon, she and Nick had apparently decided on a long romantic evening out.
She walked to the door of her uncle’s bedroom, wondering if Sharon had some kind of filing system in the house—she spent almost all her time here now. But she didn’t want to impose on her uncle’s domain. It didn’t seem right.
She didn’t walk in. Instead, she crossed through the house and went into her own room. As soon as she stepped through the door, she had a strange feeling. Her pillow had been moved. A drawer in the antique nightstand was just slightly ajar.
Frowning, she leaned against the door.
Maybe she was just going off the deep end. She sat down and dialed David Wharton’s number but only got his answering machine. Frustrated, she hung up without leaving a message. Then she tried calling Karen and got her answering machine, as well. As soon as she hung up, a call came through. It was Jan.