swimming around in the water—like, mermen . That’s what the walk-outs were about—people too damned freaked to go near that water. And you know how freaked that’s got to be. I mean, hello, beaches are pretty much our raison d’etre . Besides, water’s going to swallow us sometime.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, aren’t you just Mr. Shiny Happypants.”
Jesus gave me an answering eye-roll. “ Whatever . I’m out. News, gossip, etcetera is on your desk.”
He snapped his cuffs smartly into place and used the reflection off his computer screen for a last-minute touch-up of the hair before taking off.
“Jesus, you’re a prince,” I called after him.
He acknowledged me with an airy over-the-shoulder wave.
I sighed and turned to the paperwork awaiting me in my office. With Jesus gone, it was too damned quiet. I never could think in silence. Before turning to the papers Jesus had stacked neatly in my inbox, I hit a key on my computer to wake it up and reached for my CD case. Smash Mouth called to me, but they always made me want to move . Good for cleaning or pacing, bad for reading. Offspring , I decided instead, especially since there was no one around to hear if I unconsciously hummed along. Jesus had threatened a strike the first time he’d heard me, asked if there was a level beyond tone deaf—seventh level of hell, maybe.
Music playing, I kicked off my boots, propped my feet up on the desk and focused on the printouts. Two things stood out. One, there’d been a lot of noise about the mysterious nature of Sierra Talbot’s death at first, but no post-autopsy follow-up in the press. Maybe the reality was too much of a letdown after the buildup. Or maybe the police were keeping mum. If Sierra had been one of Circe’s clients and had her life force drained, cause of death might well have eluded the ME. And two, special effects were being done by none other than ILM. Hiero Cholas had been mentioned by name.
I wondered if Armani already knew about a link between Circe and the little mermaid and if that was a contributing factor to his consideration of the fetish angle. If I wanted to learn more about the official file on Sierra’s death, I was going to have to turn up something to trade. Hiero seemed as good a place to start as any. The trick was getting to him.
I could think of only one way. I tried to tell myself that calling Apollo was perfectly natural. He was my client; I needed a connection he could provide to help the investigation. Anyway, the number he’d left probably only got me as far as his personal assistant. Even so, my heart started to beat faster. It felt too much like asking a favor—and favors generally came with strings.
Still, I’d have to cave sometime if I wanted a look at Circe’s files, which I did now more than ever. ’Course, even if it turned out that Circe had repped Sierra and planted the nasty little clause in her contract, I couldn’t see any immediate connection to the fish folk. As trails went, it ranked right up there with Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.
I picked Apollo’s card off the edge of the desk where he’d left it and studied the number, memorizing for later reference, and froze as I found myself actually stroking the card with my thumb. Weird, weird, weird. Not to mention creepy. Which begged the question, could I really blame the strange obsession on Apollo’s godly mojo when he wasn’t even in the room? If not, what did that leave? I refused to consider myself a shoo-in for the starring role in Fatal Attraction II, though I was certainly in the right place for it.
Moving on, I shook off the self-analysis. Probably, it was just the superior paper quality making me all touchy-feely. I had a job to do and failing to make the call would only be wussing out.
I dialed the office phone, hoping with each ring to get bumped to voice mail, which was just stupid, since I’d get a lot further a lot faster if we connected. Besides which, if Apollo
I rolled my eyes. “Well, aren’t you just Mr. Shiny Happypants.”
Jesus gave me an answering eye-roll. “ Whatever . I’m out. News, gossip, etcetera is on your desk.”
He snapped his cuffs smartly into place and used the reflection off his computer screen for a last-minute touch-up of the hair before taking off.
“Jesus, you’re a prince,” I called after him.
He acknowledged me with an airy over-the-shoulder wave.
I sighed and turned to the paperwork awaiting me in my office. With Jesus gone, it was too damned quiet. I never could think in silence. Before turning to the papers Jesus had stacked neatly in my inbox, I hit a key on my computer to wake it up and reached for my CD case. Smash Mouth called to me, but they always made me want to move . Good for cleaning or pacing, bad for reading. Offspring , I decided instead, especially since there was no one around to hear if I unconsciously hummed along. Jesus had threatened a strike the first time he’d heard me, asked if there was a level beyond tone deaf—seventh level of hell, maybe.
Music playing, I kicked off my boots, propped my feet up on the desk and focused on the printouts. Two things stood out. One, there’d been a lot of noise about the mysterious nature of Sierra Talbot’s death at first, but no post-autopsy follow-up in the press. Maybe the reality was too much of a letdown after the buildup. Or maybe the police were keeping mum. If Sierra had been one of Circe’s clients and had her life force drained, cause of death might well have eluded the ME. And two, special effects were being done by none other than ILM. Hiero Cholas had been mentioned by name.
I wondered if Armani already knew about a link between Circe and the little mermaid and if that was a contributing factor to his consideration of the fetish angle. If I wanted to learn more about the official file on Sierra’s death, I was going to have to turn up something to trade. Hiero seemed as good a place to start as any. The trick was getting to him.
I could think of only one way. I tried to tell myself that calling Apollo was perfectly natural. He was my client; I needed a connection he could provide to help the investigation. Anyway, the number he’d left probably only got me as far as his personal assistant. Even so, my heart started to beat faster. It felt too much like asking a favor—and favors generally came with strings.
Still, I’d have to cave sometime if I wanted a look at Circe’s files, which I did now more than ever. ’Course, even if it turned out that Circe had repped Sierra and planted the nasty little clause in her contract, I couldn’t see any immediate connection to the fish folk. As trails went, it ranked right up there with Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.
I picked Apollo’s card off the edge of the desk where he’d left it and studied the number, memorizing for later reference, and froze as I found myself actually stroking the card with my thumb. Weird, weird, weird. Not to mention creepy. Which begged the question, could I really blame the strange obsession on Apollo’s godly mojo when he wasn’t even in the room? If not, what did that leave? I refused to consider myself a shoo-in for the starring role in Fatal Attraction II, though I was certainly in the right place for it.
Moving on, I shook off the self-analysis. Probably, it was just the superior paper quality making me all touchy-feely. I had a job to do and failing to make the call would only be wussing out.
I dialed the office phone, hoping with each ring to get bumped to voice mail, which was just stupid, since I’d get a lot further a lot faster if we connected. Besides which, if Apollo
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