Whiskey Beach - By Nora Roberts Page 0,98

know how much help I’ll be. You know the lighting in there, especially when they have music. And he was sitting in a back corner where it’s darker yet.”

“What did he say to you, talk about?” Corbett asked.

“Not much. Tonic and lime. I asked if he was meeting anyone because chairs get to be a premium on the weekends. He just repeated the order. Not the friendly sort.”

“We’ll arrange the artist when it’s a good time for you. We’ll be in touch.” Since Barbie was sniffing at his shoes, Corbett leaned down to rub her head. “Oh, and the dog’s a good idea. A big dog barking inside a house makes a lot of B-and-E men think twice.”

When Eli let them out, Abra stood there, the basket of laundry on her hip. “I’m sorry, Eli.”

“For what?”

“If I’d remembered that guy last night, we might already have a sketch. And I’m already sorry because I don’t know how well I can describe him. I really didn’t pay close attention to his face after it was clear he wanted to be left alone.”

“We don’t even know if he has any part in this. And if he does, however vaguely you remember, it’s more than we had.”

“I’m going to meditate later, see if I can clear things out, pull it back. And don’t dis meditation.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You thought several. I’m going to put this laundry in.” She checked the time. “I’m definitely behind schedule. I’ll just take some time tomorrow to do the bedrooms I didn’t get to today. I’ll finish your grandmother’s, and get what I can get done by five. I have things to do at home before class.”

“Will you come back after class?”

“I really have things I’ve neglected, and I’m going to want my own empty house—without your doubting vibes—to meditate. Plus, you and Barbie need to finish bonding. I’ll be back tomorrow. Gotta get this load in,” she repeated, and hurried off.

“Just you and me, Barbie,” Eli told her. Probably for the best. He was getting just a little too used to having Abra there. Probably better for both of them to have some time, some space.

But it didn’t really feel better.

Eighteen

BLOCKED, ABRA DECIDED. SHE WAS BLOCKED, THAT HAD to be the answer. She’d meditated, worked with the police artist, tried active dreaming—which she wasn’t very good at—and still the time, effort and skill of the artist produced a sketch that could be nearly any man between thirty and forty.

Any man, she thought, studying her copy of the sketch yet again, with a thin face, long, somewhat shaggy medium brown hair and thin lips.

She couldn’t swear to the lips, if it came to that. Had they really been thin or had she projected thin lips because he’d struck her as such a tight-ass?

So much for her powers of observation, she decided in disgust, which she’d considered above average before this.

Of course, there wasn’t any proof her tight-assed, tonic-and-lime-drinking customer had anything to do with anything. But still.

Nothing to be done about it, at least until after the holiday weekend. She added the last little silver ball to finish the pair of citrine and silver dangle earrings. As she filled out the description card, she imagined Eli’s family already on their way.

That was one good thing. Another? The house hit “family holiday” perfectly on her scale. At least fussing with that had taken her mind off her pitiful failure with the artist.

She wanted progress, as she took off the glasses she wore for close-up work and reading. She admitted she’d hoped to play a part in identifying the intruder and potential murderer, in helping Eli resolve his problems, with the little rush of solving a mystery. She wanted to make it all neat and tidy when she knew, absolutely, life was anything but.

Now she couldn’t shake off the nagging sense of annoyance, and the underlying sense of unease.

At least her new jewelry stock turned out well, if she did say so herself. But her hope that the creative energy would unblock the block fell short.

She straightened up her worktable in her tiny second bedroom, put her tools and supplies away in their labeled bins. She’d take the new stock into the gift shop, and maybe buy herself a little something with the profits.

She opted to walk, to give herself a chance to admire the play of daffodils and hyacinths cheerfully showing off their blooms, the colorful Easter eggs dangling from tree branches, the bright pop of forsythia.

She always

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024