Living with the Dead
Page 10
"Where do you keep your gun?"
Archer told him, and Finn went to check, motioning for Archer to follow and keep talking.
"Guess I left the front door open, huh?" Archer said. "That must be how the guy got in."
"If the killer wasn't already in."
"Huh? Wait, you mean Robyn? No way."
"You didn't see who killed you."
Archer seemed to consider lying, saying he'd caught enough of a glimpse to know it wasn't her. But the cop in him won out and he said only, "Rob had nothing to do with this, unless it was indirectly. If Portia's killer thought Rob was a witness, he or she could have followed her here. But my money says it's unrelated. Someone made me as a cop, decided to take me out."
Finn wasn't buying "tragic coincidence," but there wasn't time to argue.
"Was Portia Kane connected to your investigation?" he asked.
"Nah. She was just an easy client to cement my rep with, you know? She got me access to the people and places I needed."
"And Robyn Peltier?"
"Her PR rep. Not a drug supplier. Not a con artist. Not a mobster's girl. If you knew Rob, you'd laugh at the thought.
She's a complete straight arrow. She doesn't smoke, doesn't drink – which is why those few glasses of champagne screwed up her judgment tonight. She treated Portia more like a little sister than a client. Tried to keep her straight, and was always there when she needed someone."
"I spoke to an actor who was clubbing with them tonight," Finn said. "According to her, Peltier was a hanger-on.
Kane let her party with them, felt sorry for her."
Archer snorted. "Trust me, Rob was the one on pity-duty. Portia wasn't a bad kid, but she was needy, and what she needed most was a friend. She clung to Rob like she'd found her new best buddy."
"Did Peltier resent that?"
"If she did, she could have walked away. She had no ties to L.A. All her family is in Philly. She didn't need this job.
She didn't kill Portia and she didn't kill me. My money's on – "
Archer vanished.
Perfect.
Finn waited, but when they were gone, they stayed gone. And Judd Archer was no exception.
HOPE
Hope awoke and rolled into the middle of the hotel bed. Karl's spot was empty. No surprise there. It didn't seem to matter how late they got to bed – or how long it took them to get down to sleeping after they got there – Karl was always up first. Even when he slept, it was never soundly. On his own since fifteen, he'd spent too much of his life on guard against other werewolves looking for an easy notch in their belt.
Last year, when he'd encouraged Hope to get back into rowing, he'd joked that he'd get up for her dawn practices...
in time to meet her for breakfast after. But if he was in town, whether they were at his condo in Philly or hers in nearby Gideon, he always drove her. He'd drop her off, saying he'd grab a coffee and paper and wait, but when she was out on the water, she'd see him, apart from the huddle of sleepy partners and spouses, tucked into some dark corner, sipping his coffee and watching.
A guy doesn't stand in the cold November drizzle at 6 a.m. to support his girlfriend if he's not committed to the relationship. But after a life without family, friends, lovers, what was she to him? The beginning of a new stage in his life? The satisfaction of a suppressed urge to mate? Or a temporary diversion?
Hope told herself to enjoy it while it lasted. Nothing came with guarantees. But the more she saw Robyn spiral downhill, the more she worried about herself.
When her powers first started kicking in, bringing visions of death and destruction, she'd spent years struggling for sanity. Even after she'd learned she was a half-demon, it didn't solve the problem – it just gave it a name. She'd wobbled back onto her feet, but it was Karl who helped her stand firmly. Without him, would she be like Robyn, her world thrown off its axis again?
The hotel room door opened with the clank of silverware. She jumped up to help Karl with the breakfast tray, but he waved her back. He'd been to the breakfast buffet again. Though buffet-style eating didn't meet his culinary standards, he could fill two large plates and eat half of hers, which met his metabolic requirements. Taking buffet food back to your room was probably against hotel policy, but with a smile and a generous dose of charm, Karl usually got what he wanted.
Hope checked the clock. Nine o'clock. Any other day, she'd be late for work. Fridays, though, she usually spent at home writing. Or she did in L.A., where the True News office was the size of a boiler room, and twice as hot and noisy.
As Karl handed her a coffee, he said, "So, are you going to tell me what you saw last night?"
"Hmm?"
He stripped off his shirt and crawled back into bed. "At the club. You saw a vision or heard a thought that bothered you. And you conveniently distracted me when I asked."
"Ah. Right. Well, see, there was this jewel thief who stole a celebutante's diamond bracelet..."
"I put it back." He sipped his orange juice.
For Karl, Portia Kane's bracelet was a fat, lazy rabbit hopping in front of his nose, too tempting to ignore. Hope chased tabloid stories to satisfy her less civilized urges; he stole jewels to gratify his. They did what they had to and if when the phone rang late at night while he was out of town, Hope jumped awake with her heart in her throat, certain he was in jail, she wasn't ever going to tell him that.
"Something was bothering you last night," he said. "I'd like to know what it was."
"Just your typical niggling power blip. Everyone seems to be having such a great time at a place like that, but I'm picking up all the bad – jealousy, hurt, anger. Add alcohol and drugs and it's a chaos powder keg. I could feel my nerves twanging, waiting for the explosion."
"We could have taken Robyn and left. I'm sure she wouldn't have complained."
"But I have to get used to it, right? If my powers are getting stronger, I need to get stronger."
A low noise in his throat, a grumbling growl. Their major point of contention.
"It was only when Rob started withdrawing from the conversation that I couldn't help picking up other stuff," she said.
"And... ?"
Archer told him, and Finn went to check, motioning for Archer to follow and keep talking.
"Guess I left the front door open, huh?" Archer said. "That must be how the guy got in."
"If the killer wasn't already in."
"Huh? Wait, you mean Robyn? No way."
"You didn't see who killed you."
Archer seemed to consider lying, saying he'd caught enough of a glimpse to know it wasn't her. But the cop in him won out and he said only, "Rob had nothing to do with this, unless it was indirectly. If Portia's killer thought Rob was a witness, he or she could have followed her here. But my money says it's unrelated. Someone made me as a cop, decided to take me out."
Finn wasn't buying "tragic coincidence," but there wasn't time to argue.
"Was Portia Kane connected to your investigation?" he asked.
"Nah. She was just an easy client to cement my rep with, you know? She got me access to the people and places I needed."
"And Robyn Peltier?"
"Her PR rep. Not a drug supplier. Not a con artist. Not a mobster's girl. If you knew Rob, you'd laugh at the thought.
She's a complete straight arrow. She doesn't smoke, doesn't drink – which is why those few glasses of champagne screwed up her judgment tonight. She treated Portia more like a little sister than a client. Tried to keep her straight, and was always there when she needed someone."
"I spoke to an actor who was clubbing with them tonight," Finn said. "According to her, Peltier was a hanger-on.
Kane let her party with them, felt sorry for her."
Archer snorted. "Trust me, Rob was the one on pity-duty. Portia wasn't a bad kid, but she was needy, and what she needed most was a friend. She clung to Rob like she'd found her new best buddy."
"Did Peltier resent that?"
"If she did, she could have walked away. She had no ties to L.A. All her family is in Philly. She didn't need this job.
She didn't kill Portia and she didn't kill me. My money's on – "
Archer vanished.
Perfect.
Finn waited, but when they were gone, they stayed gone. And Judd Archer was no exception.
HOPE
Hope awoke and rolled into the middle of the hotel bed. Karl's spot was empty. No surprise there. It didn't seem to matter how late they got to bed – or how long it took them to get down to sleeping after they got there – Karl was always up first. Even when he slept, it was never soundly. On his own since fifteen, he'd spent too much of his life on guard against other werewolves looking for an easy notch in their belt.
Last year, when he'd encouraged Hope to get back into rowing, he'd joked that he'd get up for her dawn practices...
in time to meet her for breakfast after. But if he was in town, whether they were at his condo in Philly or hers in nearby Gideon, he always drove her. He'd drop her off, saying he'd grab a coffee and paper and wait, but when she was out on the water, she'd see him, apart from the huddle of sleepy partners and spouses, tucked into some dark corner, sipping his coffee and watching.
A guy doesn't stand in the cold November drizzle at 6 a.m. to support his girlfriend if he's not committed to the relationship. But after a life without family, friends, lovers, what was she to him? The beginning of a new stage in his life? The satisfaction of a suppressed urge to mate? Or a temporary diversion?
Hope told herself to enjoy it while it lasted. Nothing came with guarantees. But the more she saw Robyn spiral downhill, the more she worried about herself.
When her powers first started kicking in, bringing visions of death and destruction, she'd spent years struggling for sanity. Even after she'd learned she was a half-demon, it didn't solve the problem – it just gave it a name. She'd wobbled back onto her feet, but it was Karl who helped her stand firmly. Without him, would she be like Robyn, her world thrown off its axis again?
The hotel room door opened with the clank of silverware. She jumped up to help Karl with the breakfast tray, but he waved her back. He'd been to the breakfast buffet again. Though buffet-style eating didn't meet his culinary standards, he could fill two large plates and eat half of hers, which met his metabolic requirements. Taking buffet food back to your room was probably against hotel policy, but with a smile and a generous dose of charm, Karl usually got what he wanted.
Hope checked the clock. Nine o'clock. Any other day, she'd be late for work. Fridays, though, she usually spent at home writing. Or she did in L.A., where the True News office was the size of a boiler room, and twice as hot and noisy.
As Karl handed her a coffee, he said, "So, are you going to tell me what you saw last night?"
"Hmm?"
He stripped off his shirt and crawled back into bed. "At the club. You saw a vision or heard a thought that bothered you. And you conveniently distracted me when I asked."
"Ah. Right. Well, see, there was this jewel thief who stole a celebutante's diamond bracelet..."
"I put it back." He sipped his orange juice.
For Karl, Portia Kane's bracelet was a fat, lazy rabbit hopping in front of his nose, too tempting to ignore. Hope chased tabloid stories to satisfy her less civilized urges; he stole jewels to gratify his. They did what they had to and if when the phone rang late at night while he was out of town, Hope jumped awake with her heart in her throat, certain he was in jail, she wasn't ever going to tell him that.
"Something was bothering you last night," he said. "I'd like to know what it was."
"Just your typical niggling power blip. Everyone seems to be having such a great time at a place like that, but I'm picking up all the bad – jealousy, hurt, anger. Add alcohol and drugs and it's a chaos powder keg. I could feel my nerves twanging, waiting for the explosion."
"We could have taken Robyn and left. I'm sure she wouldn't have complained."
"But I have to get used to it, right? If my powers are getting stronger, I need to get stronger."
A low noise in his throat, a grumbling growl. Their major point of contention.
"It was only when Rob started withdrawing from the conversation that I couldn't help picking up other stuff," she said.
"And... ?"
