you okay?”
“Yeah. Just made a run for it when I saw you over here. Guess I’m a little out of shape. I need to add more cardio to my workouts.” A runner jogged past us and gave a friendly nod. “Jogging,” Starla said, lighting up again. “I should start jogging. No,
we
should start jogging. It’s always more fun to run with a partner. What do you think?”
“Besides that you’re crazy?”
Starla wasn’t movie-star thin, but she wasn’t heavy, either. I was naturally average bordering on the thin side (good genetics)—thank goodness, because I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body.
She laughed. “Come on. Everyone can use a little toning.”
“Why are you eyeing my triceps?”
“Well, now that you mention it”—she jiggled the loose skin on my upper arm—“it is kind of…”
“Be nice.”
“Flaccid.”
Flaccid. No one wanted to be
flaccid
, least of all me. “That’s not nice.”
“But honest. I’m always honest. I bet it jiggles when you wave. Go ahead, wave.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Just try it.”
I figured it was easier to do what she asked than protest. I waved. Sure enough, my skin jiggled like Santa’s belly.
An approaching jogger mistook my jiggle test as friendliness, waved back, and altered his course to head toward us.
As he neared, recognition hit fast and fierce and my heart started beating a crazy rhythm.
“Good morning,” Nick Sawyer said as he slowed to a stop, his lean calves and upper arms glistening with an oddly appealing sheen of sweat.
“Good morning,” Starla and I said in unison.
I fought the urge to hide my flaccid arms, and instead focused on keeping Missy from jumping all over him. I could completely understand why she wanted to, but it just wasn’t polite. “Down, Missy!”
“She’s all right,” Nick said, squatting so Missy could have free access.
Lucky dog.
No. I gave myself a hard mental shake. No, no, no. He was just eye candy, and if my father, a dentist, had instilled in me one lesson, it was that sugar was bad for me. Very, very bad.
“Here comes the computer,” Starla said, motioningtoward Alexandra’s shop again. Her blond ponytail swung as her head turned.
Sure enough, a detective was carrying out a hard drive and a laptop.
“I can’t believe I missed all the excitement last night,” Starla added. “Alexandra wasn’t the friendliest sort, but she was always nice to me, and Evan really adored her. I heard you found the body, Darcy. Do the police really think Sylar’s guilty? How’s Ve holding up?”
Her questions spun in my head, twisting and twining, making me a little dizzy. I noticed Nick looking up at me—he was still squatting, lavishing Missy with scratching and belly rubs. “I haven’t seen her since last night. I found a note this morning that there haven’t been any big changes. No news is good news?”
“What about Alexandra’s watch?” Starla loosened Twink’s lead and the dog bunny-hopped over to Nick to get his share of attention. “I’d say that’s pretty big news.”
Nick’s brow furrowed and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his stubbled jaw. “What about her watch?”
I thought back to the night before, to the rain falling, to Sylar bending over Alex’s body. I could see the puckering of her silk dress, the water beading on her legs, her arms. Her bare arms. Her fancy watch was gone.
“Whoever killed her stole it. It’s all the talk over at the Witch’s Brew,” Starla said. “Speculation is running high that the local thief stepped up his game and killed Alexandra for her watch. According to Shea Carling at All That Glitters, that watch was worth almost fifty thousand dollars.”
I gaped. “Fifty thousand?”
Starla tightened the band of her ponytail as she said, “She would know, too, since she sells Harry Winston pieces in her store.” She dropped her voice. “Shea let it slip that Alexandra had come to her a few weeks ago to get an appraisal. She
“Yeah. Just made a run for it when I saw you over here. Guess I’m a little out of shape. I need to add more cardio to my workouts.” A runner jogged past us and gave a friendly nod. “Jogging,” Starla said, lighting up again. “I should start jogging. No,
we
should start jogging. It’s always more fun to run with a partner. What do you think?”
“Besides that you’re crazy?”
Starla wasn’t movie-star thin, but she wasn’t heavy, either. I was naturally average bordering on the thin side (good genetics)—thank goodness, because I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body.
She laughed. “Come on. Everyone can use a little toning.”
“Why are you eyeing my triceps?”
“Well, now that you mention it”—she jiggled the loose skin on my upper arm—“it is kind of…”
“Be nice.”
“Flaccid.”
Flaccid. No one wanted to be
flaccid
, least of all me. “That’s not nice.”
“But honest. I’m always honest. I bet it jiggles when you wave. Go ahead, wave.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Just try it.”
I figured it was easier to do what she asked than protest. I waved. Sure enough, my skin jiggled like Santa’s belly.
An approaching jogger mistook my jiggle test as friendliness, waved back, and altered his course to head toward us.
As he neared, recognition hit fast and fierce and my heart started beating a crazy rhythm.
“Good morning,” Nick Sawyer said as he slowed to a stop, his lean calves and upper arms glistening with an oddly appealing sheen of sweat.
“Good morning,” Starla and I said in unison.
I fought the urge to hide my flaccid arms, and instead focused on keeping Missy from jumping all over him. I could completely understand why she wanted to, but it just wasn’t polite. “Down, Missy!”
“She’s all right,” Nick said, squatting so Missy could have free access.
Lucky dog.
No. I gave myself a hard mental shake. No, no, no. He was just eye candy, and if my father, a dentist, had instilled in me one lesson, it was that sugar was bad for me. Very, very bad.
“Here comes the computer,” Starla said, motioningtoward Alexandra’s shop again. Her blond ponytail swung as her head turned.
Sure enough, a detective was carrying out a hard drive and a laptop.
“I can’t believe I missed all the excitement last night,” Starla added. “Alexandra wasn’t the friendliest sort, but she was always nice to me, and Evan really adored her. I heard you found the body, Darcy. Do the police really think Sylar’s guilty? How’s Ve holding up?”
Her questions spun in my head, twisting and twining, making me a little dizzy. I noticed Nick looking up at me—he was still squatting, lavishing Missy with scratching and belly rubs. “I haven’t seen her since last night. I found a note this morning that there haven’t been any big changes. No news is good news?”
“What about Alexandra’s watch?” Starla loosened Twink’s lead and the dog bunny-hopped over to Nick to get his share of attention. “I’d say that’s pretty big news.”
Nick’s brow furrowed and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his stubbled jaw. “What about her watch?”
I thought back to the night before, to the rain falling, to Sylar bending over Alex’s body. I could see the puckering of her silk dress, the water beading on her legs, her arms. Her bare arms. Her fancy watch was gone.
“Whoever killed her stole it. It’s all the talk over at the Witch’s Brew,” Starla said. “Speculation is running high that the local thief stepped up his game and killed Alexandra for her watch. According to Shea Carling at All That Glitters, that watch was worth almost fifty thousand dollars.”
I gaped. “Fifty thousand?”
Starla tightened the band of her ponytail as she said, “She would know, too, since she sells Harry Winston pieces in her store.” She dropped her voice. “Shea let it slip that Alexandra had come to her a few weeks ago to get an appraisal. She
Similar Books
