Page 36 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
“I heard he got those from overseas,” the man at the bar said. “They were originally outside some hoity-toity mansion in France or something.”
“Did they bring those in on a helicopter too?”
He shrugged. “Hell if I know. But I hear they’re made of marble. Not the kind of thing you get around here.”
I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “Do you know who they’re talking about?”
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. She twisted in her chair and cut in on their conversation. “Are you guys talking about Rich Pine?”
I flinched a little at her directness. But maybe she knew what she was doing.
“No, no,” the guy at the bar said with a wave of his hand. “He doesn’t have statues.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said. “Who does?”
“You know, the odd duck who lives on the north side. There are two flanking the walkway to his front door. Fancy ones. Like something you’d see in a museum.”
“Guy has more money than he knows what to do with,” one of the men said. “New cars. Fancy clothes.”
“And statues,” Natalie added.
Statues could mean anything. After all, the local antique dealer had described a seven-foot Sasquatch as a “family heirloom.” But it was also possible they were talking about an art enthusiast. Maybe even a wealthy collector.
“See?” The man at the bar pointed at Natalie. “She gets it.”
“I heard he moved here from New York,” one of the men said.
“I thought it was San Diego,” Natalie said.
“No, no,” the man at the bar said, waving his hand again. “We’re talking about Julian Myers.”
“Oh, Julian Myers,” Natalie said, turning to give me a subtle smile. “You’re right. He’s not from San Diego.”
I raised my eyebrows and gave her a subtle nod. Impressive. She’d been right about listening in on town chatter. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was better than nothing.
She’d been right about my clothes, too. No one in the bar seemed interested in me.
We sat for a while longer, sipping our drinks and casually eavesdropping. At one point, Natalie rose and wandered to an old jukebox. I watched with a barely concealed smile as she pretended to peruse the song selections, all the while turning her ear to the group of couples at the nearby table. I made a trip to the bar, ostensibly to get a napkin, and paused to listen in on a few of the patrons.
Neither of us heard anything else that seemed relevant. Just more talk about the weather, some griping about a neighbor, and concern over whether the squirrels had enough sustenance for the winter.
There they went with the squirrels again.
Satisfied with our reconnaissance, we decided it was time to go, and I led Natalie out to my car. She gave me a wary look as I opened the passenger door for her. So guarded. She got in, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and inhaled deeply, filling my nose with her scent.
A wave of heat swept through me. It was as if Natalie was a woman created to be my ultimate weakness. If I didn’t know better, I might have wondered if she was a lure, sent by an enemy to trap me.
CHAPTER 9
Natalie
Ileft the Timberbeast feeling mildly intoxicated. And it had nothing to do with the drink. Or Jensen Lakes.
Okay, maybe Jensen had a little bit to do with it. It was hard to imagine any woman spending time with a man like him and not feeling the force of his masculine charm.
But it wasn’t the alcohol or the company. It was the thrill of hunting a thief.
Honestly, it was silly. All we did was go to the tavern for a drink and eavesdrop on the locals. That was a typical Saturday night in Tilikum. But it had felt like more.
