“Does this hurt?” he asked, pressing gently.
“No,” Nicole said, but even she didn’t think it sounded believable. Her voice was about three octaves higher than normal.
Jake gave her a reproving look. “You have to tell me if it hurts, it’s how I’ll know where the glass is. You have several pieces in your foot that I can see, and a couple I don’t think I’m seeing. So, stoic, no, and honesty, yes, okay?”
Nicole nodded silently, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He went back to work then, starting with the glass he could see, she supposed, since he didn’t ask her if it hurt anymore. However, it did hurt when he dug out the bits of glass and Nicole was clenching her hands and trying not to cry out when he began to ask questions, distracting her.
“Marguerite says you’re an artist?”
“Yes. I paint portraits,” she answered, looking away in the hopes that not watching would make it less painful.
“You’re good,” he complimented, and the words made her smile crookedly.
“How would you know? You haven’t seen my work,” she said with amusement.
“I did,” he countered. “When we found the front door unlocked and got no answer when we called out, Marguerite and I searched the house starting on the ground floor . . . including your studio.”
“Oh,” Nicole murmured, but she was frowning. “The front door was locked. I locked it myself behind Marguerite when she left.”
Jake raised his head and peered at her, then glanced to the door. Nicole followed his gaze to see Marguerite in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, the phone in her hand at her side. Apparently she’d finished talking to Pierina. Now she was exchanging a solemn look with Jake.
“It was unlocked when we got here,” Marguerite said quietly, as if verifying that he hadn’t remembered wrong.
“Well, that’s just—” Nicole shook her head. “I know I locked it.”
“Marguerite, if you’ll finish here, I’ll check the house again,” Jake said quietly, straightening.
Nicole frowned. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
“You locked it, and it was unlocked when we got here,” he pointed out simply. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Yes, but no one has keys but me. Well, and Marguerite,” she said, and then frowned and added reluctantly, “Maybe I just thought I locked it. Or maybe I accidentally unlocked it when I went to take the key out.”
“Rodolfo doesn’t still have a key, does he?” Marguerite asked with concern.
“No. He gave it back when I bought him out of the house,” Nicole assured her.
“Did you have the locks changed after you bought your husband out of the house?” Jake asked.
Her eyes widened. Nicole was surprised he even knew there was a husband, soon to be ex-husband. Apparently, Marguerite had told him about her life . . . which was more than she’d done for Nicole. She didn’t know a thing about her new cook/housekeeper. “No, I didn’t have the locks changed. There was no need. Rodolfo gave me his key.”
Marguerite and Jake exchanged another glance and then Marguerite moved forward and took the tweezers from Jake as he straightened.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and slipped from the room.
“There’s really no need to search the house,” Nicole said wearily as Marguerite moved one of the kitchen chairs over to sit in front of her and began to work on removing the glass from her foot. “I probably messed up about locking the door. Besides, Jake just said you guys searched when you got here.”
“Better safe than sorry, dear,” Marguerite said with unconcern. “Besides, it makes men feel good to do stuff like this. Let him be all manly and protect us womenfolk,” she said lightly with a grin, then added more seriously, “Now brace yourself, some of these glass slivers went pretty deep.”
Nicole braced herself, but it didn’t help much. It took all she had not to howl like a two-year-old as Marguerite set to work on removing the glass from her foot.
Jake checked the upper floor first, looking into the master bedroom, en suite bathroom, and walk-in closet again, just to be thorough. He then checked the sliding glass doors in the master bedroom to be sure they were locked before moving on to the guest bedroom next to the master and its bathroom.
Marguerite and Nicole were in the kitchen, so he didn’t need to check there, but couldn’t resist glancing that way as he passed the door on the way back through the living room/dining room, headed for the stairs. Nicole Phillips wasn’t what he’d expected. After everything Marguerite had told him this evening, he’d expected to find a rather pathetic creature on his hands. She didn’t strike him as pathetic.
Certainly, the sweet round derriere he’d come upon on entering the walk-in closet hadn’t looked pathetic, and she just didn’t have a pathetic air about her. Actually, while Jake hadn’t known her for more than minutes and hadn’t really spoken much to her, the overall impression he had so far was a light and cheery one. Nicole’s home had lots of large windows, stretching eighteen or twenty feet to the cathedral ceilings. The rooms were decorated in cream, with splashes of red and the occasional black accents. Her studio was a menagerie of color, and the clothes in her closet had been colorful as well.
Nothing he’d seen so far spoke of a depressed woman, crawling out from the wreckage of an abusive marriage. But then, Marguerite had said at the beginning of their conversation that Nicole had sought out counseling right away to deal with the damage from her marriage. It appeared to be working. But he’d have to wait and see to know for sure.
Jake went through every room on the main floor, checking closets, and ensuring doors were locked. He left the front door for last because he’d locked it himself when he and Marguerite had arrived, using the key Nicole had given Marguerite during her stay to do it. So, it was with some surprise that he found that door unlocked again. He opened it and peered out at the driveway, then along the road in both directions. There was nothing to see, but then he hadn’t expected there to be.
Expression grim, Jake closed the door and relocked it, then pulled out his cell phone and called a local locksmith he had dealt with in the past. He was having every lock in the house rekeyed tonight. It was the fastest and easiest way to handle the situation. Nicole’s husband may have given back his key, but he’d obviously had a copy made before doing so. She said she’d locked the door, and while she may claim that perhaps she had only meant to and hadn’t actually done it, he knew damned right well he’d locked it when he and Marguerite had entered. It being unlocked again suggested someone had come into the house after Nicole had locked it, and then left again after he’d locked it.
The question was, what had they come in for? His money was on it being Rodolfo who had entered. If they were lucky, Rodolfo had entered, intending to do something nefarious, but had been forced to scrap the plan when Marguerite and Jake had returned. He’d obviously slipped out while they were searching the house. But he couldn’t count on the man not having had time to do something, and since the guy liked to set up things that looked like accidents . . .
Turning on his heel, he started through the house again.
Three
“There you are! We were starting to worry you’d got lost.”
Nicole looked around at Marguerite’s light words and saw Jake entering the kitchen. She smiled at him a little nervously, and then turned back to the cupboard and pulled out a third cup as Marguerite said, “We finished a few minutes ago and Nicole put coffee on. It should be ready soon.”
“Oh.”
Nicole turned uncertainly at that one word. It sounded a little taken aback and she frowned and asked, “Don’t you like coffee? I can make something else for you. Tea, or . . . cocoa? Or maybe you’d rather have something cold to drink?”
“No, coffee’s fine,” he said slowly, then moved toward her, holding out his closed hand. When he reached her, he opened his hand, revealing three keys.
