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I had no response to that.
“You still a T-shirt sleeper?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She gestured me to follow her, and we walked to the other bedroom. Unlike the rest of the space, it was nearly colorless. The walls were pale gray, and there was a low platform bed, the bedspread white with dots of a slightly paler gray. A nightstand held a windup clock, water glass, and magazine. The only thing on the walls was a large painting of the curvy women I realized was her signature style, this time in shades of white, black, and gray.
“Very different look in here,” I said.
“Need it quiet when I sleep, loud when I’m awake.” She slipped around the bed to a gray chest of drawers, pulled one open.
She pulled a bright pink “Magnificent Mile” T-shirt from a drawer and tossed it to me. The tags were still attached.
“Haven’t gotten around to wearing this yet?” I asked, holding it up by the little plastic tie.
She shrugged. “It was in a gift bag, I think, from some deal my mom talked at.”
I walked to the painted canvas. Up close, I could see textures in the paint. Ridges from the brushstrokes. A grid from some sort of plastic embedded in the acrylic. Tiny spikes I really wanted to test with a fingertip. But I knew better than to smear my fingerprints all over her work.
“I like the layers in this one,” I said. “You’re really good.”
“I’m... determined,” she said. “I think sometimes that’s more important. Just putting a little bit out there, every day. You do the work or you don’t. The externalities don’t really matter.” She yawned. “The fight wore me out. I’m going to crash hard. I’ll be around tomorrow. I have a commission to finish up before I can go back to the mural. It’s for the Near North library branch.”
“You’re famous.”
“In a very different way than I figured,” she said gravely. “Anyway, I’ll be around.”
I nodded. “I’ll probably go to Cadogan tomorrow. Tell them about the French Houses if they haven’t already heard, see if they’ve got any more information.”
“And you’re cool with doing that on your own?”
“I mean, you’re welcome to be my sidekick anytime. But, yeah, I can manage. You have a painting to finish.”
She seemed relieved. “If you learn anything, let me know.”
“I will.” I walked to the doorway, Eleanor of Aquitaine moving into the bedroom as I headed into the hall. “I really appreciate this, Lulu.”
“Damn right you do.”
SIXTEEN
I was not murdered in my sleep. I couldn’t be sure Steve hadn’t moved in the night—had he been turned toward the bed?—but he hadn’t pushed me into the loft to face the sun, so I wouldn’t complain.
I got dressed and found Lulu with arms and legs akimbo on the bed, her hair spread like a dark halo. I considered waking her up, but figured she could use the rest. She’d fought hard.
And then there was her guard. Eleanor of Aquitaine eyed me suspiciously from the end of the bed. “We don’t have to be friends,” I whispered. “It’s good enough that you’re a friend of hers.”
One tail swish, then she closed her eyes.
I guessed I’d gotten all the time and attention she’d been willing to give.
• • •
I took an Auto back to the hotel, jumped out half a block before the entrance, and slid into the lobby before the paparazzi realized who I was. I showered and changed clothes, pulling on a green V-neck T-shirt, skinny jeans, and boots, and repacked my one and only suitcase again. Twenty minutes later I was in another Auto, headed to Cadogan House.
I’d done the right thing, asked my parents and Theo to meet me at the House to discuss what had happened the night before, what we’d learned from it, and why I hadn’t violated the Ombuds’ deal.
It was going to be ugly all around. I’d left the hotel early, hoping I could get some time with my parents to warn them about my theory. They’d be angry enough about the fairy visit. Telling them I didn’t consider myself a Cadogan Novitiate wasn’t going to help things.
