Not Quite an Angel by Bobby Hutchinson Page B

matter how infatuated he might be with Sameh—and he was totally gaga over her, no doubt about that; he seemed to consider her his long-lost sister or something—but he’d never in a million years rat on an investigation. Adam would bet his balls on that.
    Delilah, then? He discounted Delilah right away. She didn’t even know they were investigating her new secretary. And Violet sure as blazes wouldn’t announce it over afternoon tea—Violet was paying the shot to Blue Knights.
    When you don’t have an answer, counter with a question.
    â€œWhat makes you think I’m suspicious of you?”
    She gave him a look that squelched him. “Don’t play word games, Adam. I read it in your thought patterns, of course. Bernie was embarrassed. He knew that you were wrong about me from the start. But for you to actually believe that I might do something…something—” she searched for a word ugly enough “—something…malevolent…” She withdrew her hand from his and scowled at him. “That’s truly disgusting of you, Adam.”
    Adam frowned at her. “Hold it, hold it just a damned minute. Go back a little. Did I hear you say you read all this in my, uh, my thought patterns?”
    She bobbed her head, and her blond curls bounced and settled again. The moon was full, and its rays caught strands of her hair and streaked them with silver like a halo. “I didn’t catch all of it. I’m not exactly an expert at thought reading.” She made a disparaging sound in her throat and looked down at the hands now clasped tightly in her lap. It was still a mystery to her why she could see one person’s thoughts and totally blank out on another’s, such as Tyrone’s.
    The bleakness in her tone and on her lovely face got to him, even though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
    â€œI’m not much of an expert at anything, really.” She looked out at the moon-filled darkness for a long moment. “But I sensed enough to realize you weren’t telling me the truth. I got that much when you came to Delilah’s the other day.”
    She’d turned to face him again, her voice accusatory. “And of course I knew Bernie had taken pictures of me before that. Cameras give off a particular energy.” She curled her hands into fists and smacked them down on her lap, making the green dress billow around her legs. “It makes me feel…angry, and hurt, and defensive.”
    She gave him that look again. “I just detest being at the mercy of such primitive emotions. It doesn’t say much for my training, you know. I realize full well that anger is residual fear, but darn it all, knowing it with my head doesn’t stop me from feeling it. And really, all you had to do was ask.”
    She held his gaze. “I’d have told you the entire truth if you’d only asked me, Adam. It’s sometimes expedient towithhold details that might hurt someone’s feelings, but as for out-and-out lying—” she sounded vehement again “—well, of course I’d never deliberately lie. Truth is freedom. We all learn that in the nursery. It’s a critical learning experience.”
    It was one his particular nursery had skipped, then. Damn, he’d somehow lost complete control of this conversation again. He blew out a long breath and tried to regain ground. “You’re telling me we just should have walked up to you on the street and said, ‘Hello there, Ms. Smith, who are you and what are you doing here?’”
    She ignored the sarcasm in his voice and nodded emphatically. “Yes. You just should have asked me. I’d have told you the truth. The last thing I want is for you to upset Delilah with some misguided conclusions about who I am and what I’m doing here. Violet Temple has done quite enough of that. My job is strictly a literary matter. I intend to tell