Page 28 of Trick of Light
They just happened to be from the year of his birth, and somehow he didn’t think that was a coincidence.
“Shot of whisky in that?” Jasmine asked as she tempted him with a bottle.
“I wish.” He shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll need it.”
“Better make it a double.” A husky voice had him turning on his bar stool. Gabby Ramon slid onto the one next to his. He ignored the zing of pleasure her appearance brought him. Her eyes were always so bright, her skin so glowing. She wore a boat-neck navy tee and skintight jeans, with a delicate gold necklace nestled in the dip at her throat.
And then there was the tiny dab of paint in her hair. Should he tell her about it? Pluck it out?
“I’ve got a few things to say to you,” she said sternly.
Oh shit. She’d probably talked to Sasha Mackey. He braced himself. “Go on. Let it rip.”
Her brown eyes filled with fire. “You have some nerve interfering with our podcast just because you don’t like where it’s headed. I know you people think you can just throw some money around and get your way, but we are going to pursue that storyline no matter what bullshit you pull.”
He took a gulp of his coffee, regretting its lack of whiskey. “I’m sure you will. Do what you have to. Folks around here are getting riled up about the Fund, so I thought it would be best to take a beat.”
“But you didn’t think to discuss that with me or Heather?”
“I was trying to save time.” He winced at how that sounded. “Also, I knew you’d fight it.”
“And that I might win.”
“Yes.” He acknowledged that point with a nod. Sasha hadn’t liked bailing on the podcast, and if Gabby had gotten a chance to argue against it, she probably would have won. “I wanted to get the heat off Tamara, at least for now.”
She laughed—definitely not the reaction he’d expected. More anger, more resentment, maybe some cursing…but not laughter.
“I don’t think it worked,” she said wryly.
“What are you talking about?”
She cocked her head, as if debating whether or not to say more.
“If it’s about Tamara…”
A few quick shifts in her expression told him it was, and that she knew how important Tamara was to him, and that as angry as she might be with him, that didn’t extend to his grandmother.
“I was on my way to Tamara’s to ask her about some information I found, but I was turned away by some police officers. I think they might be searching her place.”
He froze in horror at the thought of police raiding his grandmother’s haven.
“I thought you would want to know, and I couldn’t get you on the phone, so I hitched a ride here with one of your landscapers. Are you okay?”
Suddenly released from his paralysis, he bolted to his feet. “Thank you. That will be all,” he stammered, so worried about Tamara that he barely knew what he was saying.
“Excuse me? I’m not your servant to be dismissed.”
He swung around to face her. She flinched back when she saw his expression, which must be terrifying. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You knocked me for a loop. Thank you for tracking me down. What was the information, can you tell me that? Is it connected with why the police are there?”
“Maybe. She was named in Amelia’s will as her primary beneficiary. Amelia signed the will three days before she died.”
This was bad. Very bad.
He fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it before he could check his missed calls. Cursing out loud, he saw that Tamara had called him several times, and that Gabby had both called and texted.
Another thunderbolt of fear shot through him as he dialed her number. He’d given Tamara that cell phone about six years ago, but she’d never called him on it until now. This must be a very serious situation.
“Tamara?”
