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“What an extraordinary character,” she mused aloud. “While I still like the house, you were right to be concerned about the owner. I’m surprised some of the Lost Angel girls haven’t found Toby already, but I sure don’t want to invite any to meet him.”
“Neither do I,” Luke replied. “I had no idea you were fond of tattoos.”
She opened her purse to repair her lipstick before they left his car. “We don’t know each other well yet, do we?”
“You want to warn me now so I’ll be prepared for the next surprise?”
She rested her hand lightly on his knee. “I like a bit of mystery, don’t you?”
He shot her a darkly skeptical glance. “Just how mysterious do you plan to get?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know if I’m hit with a sudden inspiration.”
“Oh yeah, you do that. Now the purpose of this little expedition wasn’t to cultivate the friendship of bizarre neighbors, but to select a building for the mural project.”
She gave his knee a playful pat, then forced herself to be serious. “I’d prefer a two-story building, but the auto supply store is at least convenient. Do you think the owner will be receptive to the idea?”
“He will be when I finish with him.”
“Yes, you can be very persuasive, Dr. Starns.”
Her glance was slyly seductive, but he was still curious. “If you’re really fond of tattoos, perhaps I should go out and get one.”
“I wouldn’t rush,” she advised. “Now hadn’t we better get back to work?”
He shoved open his car door. “You go on in. I want to visit with the owner of the auto supply.”
She stepped out of the car and carefully closed the door. She waved and started toward his office. “Don’t worry,” she called in a stage whisper. “I’ll be excruciatingly discreet.”
Luke offered a grateful nod, but as he walked away, he turned back to watch her enter the office. She moved with the lithe grace of a gazelle, but nothing was ever going to be easy with her, and that was truly excruciating.
Chapter Eight
Luke walked over to the auto supply store, but now that Catherine had pointed out how much better a two-story building would be for a mural, he had second thoughts about approaching the owner. The bar was definitely out, because he refused to place the kids so close to beer-guzzling lowlifes.
He discounted Toby McClure’s Victorian for much the same reason. The Ninety-Nine Cent Store looked damn good by comparison, but it faced the wrong direction. He usually had no difficulty coming to a swift decision on matters concerning the center, but the mural project wasn’t nearly as simple as Dave had originally made it sound.
Then there was Catherine, who took great delight in complicating everything. He jammed his hands in his pockets and walked around the block, but the only inspiration that came to him was to hand the mural right back to Dave and Catherine and let them choose a site which he would then approve or veto. Dave lived at Lost Angel and knew the neighborhood, so he ought to be able to suggest a better site than Luke had been able to find on his own.
Pleased to have found a way to sweep the mural project off his desk, Luke returned to Lost Angel, but as he walked into the office, he found Nick sprawled across one of the guest chairs. The kid was a bloody mess, and Catherine was kneeling at his feet, playing paramedic. There was a bloody handprint on her yellow sweater, and for one terrible instant, he feared the blood was hers.
“Good God, what happened?” Luke cried.
Nick shifted in his chair and winced. “I was skateboarding down the sidewalk, minding my own business like I always do, when this little old lady came barreling down her driveway in her Buick. She knocked me right out into the street, but because I’m such a lucky dude, no one was driving by to smear me into the asphalt.”
“Thank God. Did you call the police to report the accident?” Luke asked.
Nick sneered at the suggestion. “No. She was somebody’s grandmother, like the ladies who volunteer here, and you know the cops would have blamed me rather than her.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind. Now, this is clearly more than we can handle here. You belong in an emergency room. Can you make it out to my car?”
Nick made no effort to rise. “They’ll make me wait for hours for a couple of Band-Aids and an aspirin. I had a tetanus shot last year, and Mrs. Brooks is fixing me up just fine.”
Luke couldn’t meet Catherine’s gaze, but the sight of Nick’s scraped and bloody hands and knees didn’t seem to bother her nearly as much as it did him. He felt shaky and leaned against Pam’s desk for support. “Where’s Pam?”
Catherine continued to clean Nick’s torn knees with a wet towel and spoke without looking up. “She’d already gone to lunch when Nick stumbled in, and I knew you’d be back soon.”
Before Luke could reply, Rafael burst through the door, followed by Polly. “Shit man, what happened?” he yelled.
