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“Why?” Ralph asked, bewildered. Then his eyes widened in shock. “You think she’s part of that drug gang? Not a chance. I can guarantee you she’s not into anything like that. She’s a damn good tenant and a hard worker. Pays her rent on time. Doesn’t party. Doesn’t have men stay overnight. Hell, she doesn’t even date, as far as I can tell.”
“You don’t understand,” Ambrose said. “We’re concerned about her safety. As Ms.Llewellyn said, Serenity went out of her way to help us at the start of our investigation. Now we’re concerned that someone involved in the drug dealing found out that she was helpful.”
There was a lot to be said for a writer’s imagination, Pallas thought.
“Well, shit,” Ralph said, genuinely alarmed now. “You think they might have killed her because she knew too much about what was going on there at that damn sleep clinic?”
“We don’t have any proof of that,” Pallas said quickly. “We just want to talk to her and make sure she’s okay.”
“But she’s not here,” Ralph said.
“It might be a good idea for you to go into the house and have a look around,” Ambrose said. “See if things look normal. As her landlord, you have every right to make certain she’s not in danger.”
“Now you’ve got me worried,” Ralph said. “Hang on. I’ll get the key.”
He disappeared through his front door and returned a moment later, key in hand. “I’ll just take a quick look around.”
He hurried across the narrow road and went up the steps. Pallas and Ambrose followed at a respectful distance. They waited on the front porch while Ralph rapped on the door.
“Serenity?” he called. “Are you in there?”
When there was no answer, he opened the door and moved into the front hall. Ambrose went to the entrance but he did not cross the threshold.
“What the hell?” Ralph shouted from somewhere inside the house. He reappeared at the far end of the hall. “She’s gone. Pulled a midnight move-out. I’ll be damned. Never saw that coming. Just didn’t seem like the type, y’know? She owed me a month’s rent.”
“Are you sure she’s gone?” Ambrose asked.
“See for yourself,” Ralph growled. He gestured vaguely at the interior of the house. “Closet is empty. Nothing left in the bathroom.”
Ambrose did not wait for a second invitation. He moved into the hallway and disappeared.
Pallas took a step inside the hall, intending to follow him...
...and put one foot right into the heart of the small storm of dark energy.Rage. Frustration. Fear.
“Damn it,” she yelped.
She veered to the left and managed to bump up against the wall.
“Whoa,” Ralph said. “Are you all right, Ms.Llewellyn?”
“Yes, thanks.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes, embarrassed. “I tripped. New shoes.”
“So long as you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Ambrose appeared at the far end of the hall. He gave her a quick, concerned look, and when she nodded to assure him she was okay, he vanished again. She realized he was trying to take a look around without attracting Ralph’s attention.
She pulled herself together and gave Ralph her best client smile. “This is a very interesting house. Has it been in the family for a long time?”
“Yes, indeed.” Ralph perked up immediately, delighted to chat. “My great-grandfather built it.”
“I’m an interior designer by training,” Pallas said. “Just looking around I get the impression that almost everything is original. It’s an excellent example of pre–World War Two architecture. I’m surprised it’s in such good condition.”
“I paint occasionally and polish the floors, but that’s about it.” Ralph patted a nearby wall affectionately. “Solid as a rock. They just don’t build ’em like they did in the old days.”
“What about the kitchen?” she pressed, leaning into an air of enthusiasm.
