fabric that seemed more designed for looking than sitting. The polished, dark wood floors were covered with rugs that were probably handwoven in the 1500s, and little tables scattered around the room were topped with things that I would have called knickknacks if they hadn’t looked like they cost five thousand dollars apiece.
There were two fireplaces, one on either side of the room, though I doubted they’d ever been used. Each one of those was topped with more gold statues which probably cost more than I made in a year. The art on the walls was lavish, garish even, and I suspected it was all original, whatever the hell it was.
I didn’t want to touch any of it. How could anyone live in a place like this? Why would you want to? Even the scale of the room felt designed to make you uncomfortable. Like living in a museum.
I looked out through the French doors to the formal gardens beyond the patio. Even those looked too manicured, too pristine. My lip curled into a sneer.
Footsteps sounding on the tiles in the hall announced Eleanor’s arrival, and I turned, not bothering to smooth my face. It wasn’t like Eleanor was going to be happy to see me. No reason to act like the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Eleanor came to a stop at the entrance to the room, holding a surprisingly tattered-looking paperback book. It looked distinctly out of place, not just in this house, but in her delicately manicured hand. I was shocked she’d deign to touch something that ratty.
“Connor.” Her voice sounded cool, like a silvery bell. “Joan told me it was you, but I confess, I thought she must be mistaken.”
I sensed a barb somewhere in that comment, but couldn’t quite figure out how to respond. So I didn’t. The look Eleanor gave me said she’d roll her eyes, if she were the type of person to indulge in such a vulgar gesture.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Those silver tones were more clipped this time.
“Sarah Jane Slagle,” I said without preliminaries. “I ran into her last night. I caught someone trying to dig up the turtle’s nest at McIntyre Beach. He got away, but I got his jacket. Sarah Jane thought you might be able to help.”
I paused, giving Eleanor a chance to say something. She didn’t. Well, I supposed that was fair play.
“She said the logo looks like the one for a garden supply company you use. And that you might be able to get a list of their employees. We’re trying to figure out who this guy is, and what he can tell us.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together in a thin line. I waited for her to speak, but she still said nothing. I sighed. It had been a long night, and I really wasn’t in the mood for her ridiculous pride today.
“So, would you be willing to take a look at the jacket, or…?”
I hefted the plastic bag in my hand where I’d folded the jacket up. Eleanor eyed it like it might contain dog poop.
“What makes you think this man—assuming we are able to identify him—won’t just lie when you talk to him? What incentive does he have to help?”
“He left his tools behind. And I don’t think he was wearing gloves, so there are bound to be fingerprints.”
“But you’re the only witness to this activity. So it would be his word against yours?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Do you recall the reputation you have in this town? I can’t imagine anyone would be inclined to believe you.”
I wanted to sigh again, but I decided twice in one minute was a little much.
“Then I’ll use other parts of my reputation to persuade him,” I said, smiling coldly instead.
I might have had a reputation for being a bad seed as a kid, but I also had one as someone you didn’t want to cross. If people still remembered that all these years later—and to be fair, this was Adair, so they probably did—I might as well put it to good use.
Eleanor just studied me, tapping a finger against her lips like I was a new, tasteless painting that she wasn’t sure she liked. Given the ones currently hanging on her walls, I decided to take that as a compliment.
“Look, I know neither of us is happy about working together on this,” I said. “But since we are, could you just take a look at the damn jacket and then let me go?