Page 7 of Kiss Me Now
“When...”
She gave me a tight smile. “He was kind enough to offer me a place to stay for a little while. It made me wish I’d lived closer all along. He was a quiet man, but interesting once you got him talking. Layers I wouldn’t have expected.”
I didn’t doubt the woman in front of me was masterful at insinuating herself into the life of a lonely old widower like Fred, peeling back those layers with solicitous questions, pretending interest in his ordinary existence. The proof was in her inheritance. She’d ingratiated herself to him late in his life, and magically, a short time later, he’d bequeathed her everything. Fred Sandberg’s house was not even a third the size of Gran’s, more cottage than estate, but it was still plenty of room for the average family, and the land it sat on made it a super generous inheritance. A strange gift for a grand-niece Fred hadn’t known well.
“You must have been surprised when he left you his property,” I said casually, but my tone didn’t fool Gran who flashed me a warning look.
“Ignore my grandson, Brooke,” she said. “It’s his nature to dig into everyone’s business. He claims he doesn’t work for the CIA, but I don’t believe him. Don’t know what else could explain why he’s always so nosy.” She softened the insult with a smile full of warmth.
“I’m not a spy, Gran. I’ve been telling her that for years,” I explained to Brooke.
“That’s exactly what a spy would say,” Brooke said.
Gran laughed. “And that’s exactly what I say to Ian every time he denies it.” I listened to their exchange with a half-smile, but their easiness with each other made me distinctlyuneasy.
“What is it you do then?” Brooke asked.
“Didn’t Gran tell you?” I asked. “She makes it sound like her grandkids are the only thing she ever talks about.”
“Um, let me think.” Her forehead wrinkled. “One of your brothers is...a lawyer?” Gran gave her an encouraging nod. “And your sister is an artist. That must mean you’re the other lawyer.”
“Gran wishes I were a lawyer.”
Brooke’s expression grew confused. “Didn’t you tell me he works at some big shot law firm?”
Her question was for Gran, but I interjected before Gran could answer. I wanted to see her reaction to the news of what I really did. “I do work for the most prestigious law firm in the District. But I’m not an attorney. I’m their lead investigator.”
For a split second, her face froze, then her polite listening expression reappeared. “Sounds interesting.” But her tone was deeply disinterested.
“It can be,” I said. “Sometimes it’s long, boring stakeouts. But sometimes it’s uncovering the kind of corruption that average Americans don’t realize is disenfranchising them.”
“Sounds like you like your job.”
I shrugged, not taking my eyes off her. “I’m at least very good at it.”
She blinked and turned away, giving a slight sniff. “Smells as delicious as usual, Miss Lily.”
Mary appeared in the doorway to confirm what our noses were telling us. “Dinner’s ready, y’all.”
I rose and offered Gran my arm as my mom had taught me to do when I was little, and she settled her small hand into the crook of my elbow and led the way to the breakfast nook. She preferred to eat there instead of the formal dining room unless the party was large.
As we settled around the oak table, I continued to monitor Brooke closely without appearing to do so. It was a necessary skill for an investigator, the ability to observe carefully without making the subject feel like she was under a microscope.
I wondered first at her age. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five, but she carried herself with the confidence of someone with more life experience, which made me stick with my original guess of thirty. Next, I listened for the way she spoke. She didn’t have a discernible accent, but she was articulate in a way that suggested a good education. That or she was a gifted mimic of educated people. I’d seen it go both ways. She had to have at least a bachelor’s degree to also hold a teaching credential, but I’d uncover all these things when I did an Internet search after dinner.
The average American would be appalled by how easy it was to examine the minutiae of their lives with a visit to a few databases, but it definitely made my job easier.
Gran had chosen a cabernet for the roast, and I poured a glass of wine and hid a smile behind it. Poor Brooke. She might be good enough to fool lonely senior citizens with her sweet smile and interested questions, but she couldn’t fool my Google skills.
“How’s the house coming along?” Gran asked her.
“Slowly,” Brooke said with a sigh. I was content to let Gran steer the conversation. It gave me more opportunity to observe my subject. “It’s a great house,” she explained to me. “But I don’t think my uncle did a single update the whole time he owned it. Tomorrow I start the floors.” She followed that with a grimace. “It’s a big job, but it’s cheaper to rent the equipment and do it myself than hire a contractor.”
She was very good. She was too smart to come out and say, “I sure wish someone would give me the money to do this.” Instead, she planted subtle hints about the scope of the work and the expense of the undertaking.
Gran shot Brooke an admiring smile. “This one is convinced there’s nothing she can’t conquer with the right YouTube tutorial.”
“Oh, it’s never just one,” Brooke said, with a shake of her head and a small laugh. “You have to watch at least ten, and the correct answer lies somewhere in the middle. You start to see a consensus about a few things, and then you can piece together an approach that will get the job done.”
