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Still, it was a damn shame.
Chapter Six
Sluggishly entering my kitchen the next morning, I blinked in surprise at the sight of Judy sitting at my table wearing a shit-eating grin. Not a usual occurrence. My brain was far too sleep-addled and caffeine-deprived to properly compute the whole shit-eating grin part.
“Good morning, darlin’,” she greeted brightly. “There’s coffee in the pot waiting for you.”
“Uh, thanks.” I crossed to the pot, took a mug from the cupboard above it, and then poured coffee into the cup. Conscious of her watching me while still grinning like a fool, I turned to her as I sipped my drink. “Everything okay?”
“More than okay,” she assured me, uncharacteristically perky.
I eyed her for a long moment. “All right.” I thrust a hand through my bed-head as I made a slow beeline for one of the cupboards. Opening the door, I reached for a box of cereal. “Want something to eat?”
“No thanks, I’ve had breakfast already. I just thought I’d come sit with you so we could have a, you know, girly chat.”
A girly chat? Since when did we have those? Taking another sip of coffee, I stared at her. “Why are you being weird?”
“Weird?” she echoed, all innocence.
“Yes. Weird.” I set the cereal box and mug on the counter. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I rubbed at my eyebrow. “Grams, I am in no state to play guessing games. I haven’t had enough caffeine yet.”
She only let out a “hmm” sound, still beaming.
I gave a little shake of the head and then grabbed a bowl from a nearby cupboard.
She watched me with a smile as I poured cereal and then milk into the bowl. “I went to bed early last night,” she said, her voice casual. “Didn’t have the greatest sleep, though.”
Returning the milk carton to the fridge, I asked, “Did Sushi keep waking you up again?”
“No, she chose to sleep in the tumble drier last night—don’t worry, it wasn’t switched on or anything. Anyway … I woke at a stupid hour because I heard a car outside. Imagine my surprise when I came out of my wing to see who our late-night visitor was only to hear you talking to Kaiser Wolfe.”
Ah, hell. With an inward sigh of annoyance, I settled at the table opposite her with both my coffee and bowl.
“I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said,” she continued. “I didn’t dare get closer—I worried he’d leave if he thought you had a kinky voyeur for a grandmother. So I went on back to my wing, figuring you could enlighten me in the morning. Want to tell me what brought him here?”
Nope, not at all. I hadn’t told her anything about the Vault. Not that she’d judge what went on there. No, on the contrary, she’d be highly intrigued. Nosy as she was, she’d also be hungry for specifics. Then I’d have to deal with all kinds of uncomfortable questions, not to mention constantly be hit with “What room did you play in tonight?” each time I got home from the club.
I’d rather not have those conversations with my little old grandmother, just as I’d rather not explain my arrangement with Kaiser. The problem was … she was a terrific lie detector. It was rare that I managed to get a fib past her.
“Well?” she prompted.
Shifting in my seat, I spooned some cereal. “He wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“About what?”
I hesitated. “Music.” I shoved some cereal into my mouth. “He wanted my opinion on some lyrics.”
“That so?” she asked, clearly doubtful.
“Yes. That is so.”
