Page 67 of Ten Beach Road

“Maybe you could show us your operation.” Nicole stepped forward and linked Alfred’s bony, freckled arm through hers. Avery admired the fact that she didn’t wince or react to the chemical cologne that wafted off of him.

Nikki pointed at the sign that stretched over the entrance. “I’m sure the King of Chrome should be able to handle something a little out of the ordinary.”

Avery followed them into the office and then into the old service station where Alfred’s cologne had originated. Even though the big bay door was wide open, she still had to swallow carefully and keep her breathing shallow. Setting the cardboard box down on a workbench, she and Nicole toured the various-sized vats of solution and listened intently as the king described the stripping, dipping, and buffing process. Nikki subtly stroked his vanity while Avery asked the technical questions. When she was satisfied that he could and would re-chrome the fixtures she asked for an estimate and was careful not to blink when he named the small fortune he would charge them. Nor did she react to the fact that it could be several weeks before he’d have this first batch done.

But that might have been because their eyes were already slitted against the harsh sting of the chemicals and the whole lack-of-breathing thing. Or because Avery couldn’t think of any other alternative and wasn’t about to replace all this great stuff with reproductions.

Clutching a claim form and written estimate, Avery and Nicole exited into the parking lot where they drew great gulps of sunshine and air into their lungs.

“You were awesome!” Avery said when they’d left the body shop behind. “You handled the King of Chrome perfectly.”

They did an exaggerated high five, and Nicole laughed freely, something Avery realized she hadn’t heard before. “You’re hereby elected to pick up the finished pieces and deliver the next set. If anyone can get us a better price, it’s you.”

Avery tilted her head back against the leather headrest, enjoying the play of sunshine and fresh air on her cheeks as she thought about Nicole’s manner with Alfred. Nikki was extremely attractive, but she didn’t use her looks overtly, they were just part of her package. And she didn’t play the helpless female; Avery couldn’t imagine anyone forcing Nikki into the Vanna role that Avery had been relegated to onHammer and Nail. But she wasn’t a battering ram, either. Her persuasive skills seemed to work equally well on the high-net-worth individuals who were her clients as well as the more blue-collar variety.

“How do you do it?” she asked Nicole when they’d driven through Pasadena and on to the Corey Causeway Bridge. “How do you get people to do what you want without them even realizing it?”

On Gulf Boulevard they waited while a stream of beach-goers crossed with the light. “Handling people isn’t all that complicated,” Nicole said. “It doesn’t really matter whether they’re men or women, young or old . . .” She shrugged. “Because it’s not really about them.”

“No?”

“No.” Nicole smiled, but there was no humor in her voice, and her chin was set. Avery wished she could see behind her sunglasses, to what might be revealed in her eyes. “It’s really a matter of knowing exactly what it is that you want to achieve in each situation; you can’t be hoping for some vague outcome. You have to be specific. Then you simply help them think it’s what they want, too.”

The light turned green and Nikki eased her foot down on the accelerator. “It’s all about force of will. Mind over matter,” she said as the Jag sprang forward. “You just have to make sure that it’s your mind, your will that dominates theirs.”

“How did you learn all that?” Avery asked, surprised by the depths lurking beneath Nicole’s sophisticated surface.

“The hard way,” Nikki said so quietly her words were almost lost in the wind. “Out of necessity.”

Avery had cause to remember this when they got back to Ten Beach Road and found large furniture boxes sticking up over the edge of the Dumpster.

“There’s no way Deirdre unpacked and carried that bedroom furniture upstairs on her own, is there?” Nicole asked as they passed the Dumpster and headed up the drive.

“No. My money’s on her having found some poor schmo to do it for her.” They entered through the kitchen door and found Deirdre standing at the center island. A sketch pad sat in front of her, a tape measure next to it. She was studying the kitchen cabinets with a thoughtful expression on her face. “But feel free to ask,” Avery said as she went to the refrigerator to retrieve two Diet Cokes.

Nicole paused beside Deirdre and took a sip of the proffered Coke before asking, “How did you get the furniture upstairs, Deirdre? You look miraculously unscathed.”

Deirdre took the other Coke out of Avery’s hand, despite the fact that it was already halfway up to Avery’s mouth. “It was the most serendipitous thing,” Deirdre said. “A nice young man who was out fishing on the back seawall helped me.”

“You invited a stranger into the house?” Avery asked.

“Darling, there’ve been a million strangers in and out of this house already. And he was very well mannered. And exceptionally good-looking.”

“Oh, well, as long as he was attractive.” Avery took her Coke back and wiped the rim with her T-shirt. The lack of air-conditioning had her pressing it against her neck.

“He was broad shouldered and had dark hair and eyes. He could definitely be in movies.”

An odd look passed over Nikki’s face.

“Besides, he wasn’t a complete stranger,” Deirdre said. “He told me he’d met Nicole a number of times.” She winked conspiratorially. “I think he must be interested. He asked me all kinds of questions about her.”

Nikki made a strange sound; Avery couldn’t have identified it, but it matched the look on her face.

“Girardi? Jenari?” Deirdre cocked her head and squinted, trying to remember. “Giraldi, that’s it. Joe Giraldi,” she said, pleased at having successfully plumbed her memory banks. “He said he’d be in touch.”

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