and all three men pushed to their feet. “Considering my life? Are you kidding? It’s like watching Leave It to Beaver.”
She moved toward the elevator. Alec followed after her.
“Abel.” Gadara’s voice arrested everyone. “I’d like you to stay and go over your report regarding the death of your Mark.”
Reed nodded and hung back.
Turning inside the car to face him, Eve’s gaze met his just before the doors closed.
His wink good-bye followed her all the way home.
Yellow police tape and a crime scene sticker sealed Mrs. Basso’s door. Eve couldn’t help but stare at it as they passed. Alec tossed an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, offering support.
“This is terrible in so many ways,” she said.
“I’m sorry, angel.”
“I loved her.” She struggled to push her key into the lock of her door. It was hard to see through tears.
Alec took her keys from her and worked his way through the dead bolts. He pushed open the door and gestured her in.
“I liked her,” Eve continued, setting her Coach bag atop the console table where she kept her gun. The screen door to the patio was open and a crisp sea breeze wafted through her sheer curtains, billowing through them like a ship’s sails. “Really liked her. Some people you only like a little, some you only like on certain occasions, and some you only like when you’re drunk. But I liked her all ways and all the time.”
He pulled her into a tight embrace.
Her hands fisted in his shirt. “I’m going to miss her. And I’ll probably hate whoever moves in next door.”
“Don’t say that,” he murmured. “Give them a chance.”
She rubbed her face into the cotton of his T-shirt, drying her tears. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Can I offer a suggestion?”
Leaning back, Eve met his gaze. “I mean about our living arrangements.”
His mouth curved in a smile that curled her toes. “Of course I’ll move in with you, angel. I was just waiting for you to ask.”
“My dad would kill me.”
“This coming from the gal who survived a tengu, a Nix, and a wolf in a week?”
“They have nothing on my dad’s silent treatment, let me tell you.” She pulled away. “I mean he’s silent most of the time, but when he is peeved about something, he becomes really silent. Oppressively silent. I hate it. Makes me squirm.”
“Guess I better go with plan B, then.”
She frowned. “What’s plan B?”
“Moving in next door when the police are done with it.”
“What?”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s creepy.”
“She was a sweet old lady, angel. She’s with God now; she’s not hanging around worrying about us.”
The doorbell rang.
They both stilled. Alec arched a brow in silent query. She shook her head. Knocking came next, an annoying impatient rapping.
“Ms. Hollis?”
Eve groaned in recognition of the voice.
“It’s Detectives Ingram and Jones from the Anaheim Police Department. We’d like to speak with you.”
Blowing out her breath, she went to the door and opened it. “Hello, Detectives.”
“Can we come in?”
“Certainly.” She stepped out of the way, her heels rapping on the hardwood floor. She’d dressed for business to see Gardara—skirt, blouse, and chignon. Now, she was doubly glad to be formidably attired.
The two policemen entered and she was once again struck by what an odd pairing they were. One short and thin, the other tall and portly. But there was a synergy between them that told her they had been working together a long time.
“Would either of you like some coffee?” she asked.
“Sure,” Jones said, unsmiling.
Eve led the group into the kitchen and began preparing the coffeemaker. “So what brings you to my door?”
“We found a local florist who remembers selling water lilies on two separate occasions to this man,” Ingram said.
She looked over her shoulder. The detective held up a sketch artist’s rendering. Mostly she found the ones she saw on television to be useless for identification purposes, but this one was good. It looked eerily like the Nix. She took the carafe over to the sink.
“Have you seen this man, Ms. Hollis?” Jones asked.
“No.” The mark burned.
“What about you, Mr. Cain? Have you seen him?”
“I haven’t, no.” Alec, moved to the cupboard that held the mugs.
“I don’t believe you,” Ingram said bluntly.
Eve sighed and filled up the water reservoir of the coffeemaker. “I’m sorry about that.”
“So are we.” Jones propped one foot on the rail that ran along the bottom of the island. “You see, either both you and Mrs. Basso received flowers—which is what we think happened—or another woman in Huntington Beach has