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“Please,” she said, motioning him toward the sofa.
Calder had begun to think she would never ask. “Thanks.” He set the book bag on the coffee table and sat down in the center of the sofa.
“Something to drink?” she asked.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
She moved to an upholstered chair, which he determined was her favorite spot. Beside the chair was a small table. On it were a paperback book and a mug with a tea bag string dangling from it. Before sitting down, she picked up a throw from the seat and draped it over the back cushion.
The room was cozy withstuff. He realized that the condominium he’d moved from this morning hadn’t had any stuff in it. Top-of-the-line furnishings and objets d’art that a decorator had placed just so, but not everyday things you’d pick up and handle without worrying about leaving fingerprints. His would be on the TV remote. The whiskey decanter. Not much else.
It had taken him less than two hours to pack his personal possessions. Clothing and shoes had taken a majority of that time. He’d cleared out everything else with very little effort because he hadn’t had much to clear out.
Except for the items he could pack into two suitcases that would fit in the trunk of his car, he’d boxed up everything and left it all in the storage unit in the building’s parking garage, along with his two bicycles, snow skis, skateboard, baseball gear, and other toys. He’d told the building superintendent that when he had a new address, he would send a mover for it all.
The super had eyed him speculatively. “So this is a permanent move?”
“Yes.”
“What about Ms. Calloway?”
“Not my business. You’ll have to ask her.”
He gave the guy a two-hundred-dollar tip and drove away feeling like he’d gotten a reprieve from a life sentence.
“You had your meeting with Compton and Perkins?”
Elle’s question pulled him back into her livable living room. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“It was hard to take it all in. You know how Perkins gets wound up and goes on and on.”
She looked at him with surprise, and then they both laughed. It imbued him with a sense of satisfaction that he’d made her laugh twice since his arrival. Given her youthful and unseasoned appearance, one would expect her laugh to sound like jingle bells. Instead, it was as throaty as a cello and sexy as hell.
He’d often wondered what her hair would look like when it wasn’t bound. Now that it was rippling over her shoulder in loose waves, he wanted to sink his fingers into it and—
“You know what I think?”
Caught thinking with his libido, he said huskily, “About what?”
“The Compton/Perkins team.”
“What do you think?”
“Perkins deliberately doesn’t say much in order to make you forget he’s there. He’s the more cerebral and analytical.”
“While Compton is talking, he’s observing.”
“Uh-huh. Closely watching for reactions, listening for giveaway inflections. Compton is as sharp as a tack, too, but I think he’s her senior. She defers to him before revealing anything of consequence.”
Calder thought back on the occasions that he’d been with the two. In particular, he remembered when he was in the hospital, and Compton had looked toward her partner as though asking his permission to share that Charlie Portman hadn’t survived. His gaze flicked to a framed baby picture of Charlie on the end table.
“I think you’re right,” he said in response to her observation. “They instructed me not to discuss this new lead, the same as they did you. But will you report me if I cheat?”
She shook her head and motioned for him to proceed.
“What do you make of it? Did that guy stand out to you?”
