Six
Early the next morning, I was walking briskly home from Chantelle's apartment in West Hollywood. I'd planned this yesterday; I'd put a sports bag with shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes in Chantelle's Jeep when she'd picked me up last night.
I'd discovered that even at the best of times, Chantelle was not what you'd call an early riser. Besides, this morning she'd be in a rush to get to her new job on time, so it was easier for me to get myself back to Kendall & Creeling. It wasn't that far, a couple of kilometers or so, but it was mostly uphill, so I was getting a good workout.
As I walked, I mused about Chantelle and me. Last night had been lovely. Chantelle was a warm and considerate lover, no strings attached, so at the moment I didn't have to worry where our relationship might go-I could just enjoy it.
So far we'd always ended up at her place, never mine. I used the excuse that her bed was king-size and so much more comfortable for two, but I knew that wasn't the real reason I never suggested we go back to my room at Kendall & Creeling.
That was it: Creeling.
Although technically I owned one percent more of the business than she did, in essence the building was home to Ariana Creeling's private eye company. Even when she wasn't there, Ariana was always present in some way, her personality palpable in her empty office. I just wouldn't be comfortable having Chantelle stay the night.
That got me wondering if I'd ever look at Ariana as just a person who happened to be my business partner. I couldn't imagine it would ever happen-not after that kiss.
How many different people had I kissed in my romantic career? Quite a few. Some of those kisses had been dynamite, some merely pleasant, some frankly yuck. I recalled sloppy kisses and cool kisses and swallow-your- tongue kisses and kisses that made my knees go weak…
And then there was Ariana.
One kiss, that's all we'd had, in a highly charged moment of danger. If I shut my eyes I could still feel her lips on mine, her arms around me. Not to be too fanciful, but that moment had been like being struck by lightning.
Unfortunately, Ariana didn't share this earthshaking insight of mine. She'd backed off, apologized. A spur-of- the-moment kiss of little significance was the message. 'I'm sure you'll agree,' she'd said, quite kindly, 'that close personal relationships in the workplace should be avoided. They just cause complications.'
I'd almost blurted out, 'Complications are what I want!' but I didn't. I played it cool, knowing instinctively that if I pushed it, Ariana would retreat to a place where I could never reach her. And I was determined to reach her, however long it took.
When I got to Kendall & Creeling, I checked the car park to see what vehicles were there. My rental, of course. And the battered pickup belonging to Luis the cleaner. No one else. Even Lonnie, who liked to get an early start, hadn't yet arrived.
I made a bit of a racket opening the front door and coming into the building. I'd threatened Luis with a golf club the first time we'd met, and he'd never forgotten it. Whenever I ran into him I couldn't help noticing he always kept a close eye on me and never let me get behind him.
'G'day, Luis,' I said, meeting him on my way to the kitchen. He was a little bloke, who seemed a rather down- in-the-mouth type. I'd never heard him whistle or sing as he worked, though that might be because of me. For all I knew, Luis sang like a canary on his other cleaning jobs.
Right now he was holding a wastepaper basket at chest height, like a shield. He nodded warily at my greeting but kept his lips tightly closed.
'I'm thinking of learning Spanish,' I said with a big smile. 'Maybe I can practice on you.'
Luis took a step back.
Julia Roberts, irritated because I'd been out all night, joined me in the kitchen while I made myself a pot of tea-loose leaf Twinings Orange Pekoe-and a bowl of porridge.
'Sorry to have left you alone, Jules,' I said, when even a food bribe failed to wipe the scowl from her furry face. It amazed me how she could achieve such an unmistakable expression with just a few subtle adjustments of ears and whiskers.
I headed for my office, leaving her glowering at the crab-and-shrimp-flavored treats I'd put in her dish. Maybe Jules was right. I didn't think I'd fancy that combination for breakfast.
Last night I'd got a fair amount of information out of Quip about Lamb White et cetera, and I wanted to jot it down before the details faded. I needed to be prepared for my next meeting with my clients-that word gave me a bit of a thrill-who were due in my office at eleven o'clock. I was hoping Melodie would be back from her audition for a tooth-whitening commercial well before then.
Lamb White Incorporated specialized in G-rated movies for family viewing. I knew the sort, syrupy goody-goody stories where people smile and cry a lot, but never, ever swear or have sex. The company was part of the business empire of Brother Owen, a wealthy televangelist, whose New Age Church of Possibilities had sucked lots of celebrities into its congregation. Quip described Brother Owen as an obscenely rich con artist who had ripped off millions from trusting individuals who freely gave money to support the bogus belief system he was peddling.
The movie company, Lamb White Incorporated, was run by a woman called Tami Eckholdt. Quip wasn't too keen on her either. He said she came over as warm and caring, but underneath she was a combination of Phyllis Schlafly and Anita Bryant, only worse. When he explained who these two were, I saw what he meant. 'A poisonous sheila?' I'd said. He'd agreed that pretty well summed up Tami Eckholdt.
I took my
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized reliable lie detection would be an asset for any private investigator. Achieving this, however, was harder than I'd imagined. My handbook confidently stated that lies were detected only slightly more than half the time, which wasn't much better than just guessing. And worse, the better you knew someone, the less likely you were to know they were lying to you, because your feelings got in the way, plus the person had learned how to fool you.
I stopped reading to ponder whether Ariana had ever lied to me.
'Good morning, Kylie.' Harriet Porter's smile lit up her face. 'You studying something?'
Harriet had a voice like smoky honey, thick chestnut hair, and a top personality. She juggled law classes with part-time work for Kendall & Creeling. Add to that the fact she was pregnant, though not showing much yet, and you had someone who had an awful lot going on in her life. Me, I'd have been flat out just keeping up, but Harriet seemed to sail on through, like nothing really got to her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was in a great relationship with Beth, or maybe Harriet was just one of those fortunate people who can cope, no matter what.
'I'm reading up on lying,' I said. 'Did you know that a person's blink rate can be a dead giveaway?'
'I think I heard that somewhere.'
'The normal rate of blinking is twenty times a minute,' I informed her.
Harriet grinned. 'That much? You'd think we'd all wear our eyelids out. Or they'd become muscle-bound.'
I had to laugh at that. Harriet had a bonzer sense of humor. 'And Harriet, if people blink much faster, like up to a hundred times a minute, they're under pressure and probably lying.'
'Maybe the person has something in their eye,' Harriet suggested. She wasn't taking this at all seriously.
The front door banged behind Fran. She gave us both a gimlet stare. 'Morning,' she snarled.
If Quip could manage to be cheerful while married to Fran, the least I could do was be positive. 'Last night was super, wasn't it?' I said with a jolly smile.
'You had a girls' night out?' inquired Harriet.
