"That's just potpourri."
Joe glanced over his shoulder at Gabrielle and tossed the small satchel back into the basket. "I'd already figured that out, but thanks anyway."
"I thought you might confuse it for some kind of mind-altering drug."
He looked into her green eyes and thought he detected a glint of humor, but he wasn't sure. It could just as easily be a spark of dementia. His gaze moved past her to the empty room. Carter was still in the office. Hopefully, busy setting himself up. "I was a narcotics agent for eight years. I think I know the difference. Do you?"
"I don't think I should answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me." An amused smile lifted the corners of her red lips. She obviously thought she was a riot. "But I will say that if I ever did use drugs, and keep in mind that I'm not confessing anything, it was a long time ago for religious reasons."
He had a feeling he was going to be real sorry, but he asked anyway. "Religious reasons?"
"To seek truth and enlightenment," she elaborated. "To break the boundaries of the mind in search of higher knowledge and spiritual fulfillment."
Yep, he was sorry.
"To explore the cosmic connection between good and evil. life and death."
"To seek new life, new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before," he added, keeping his tone bland. "You and Captain Kirk seem to have a lot in common."
A frown flattened her smile.
"What's in this trunk?" he asked.
"Christmas lights."
"When was the last time you checked?"
"Christmas."
Movement behind Gabrielle drew Joe's attention to the front counter, and he watched Kevin walk to the cash register and pop it open. "I have a few business errands to run this morning, Gabrielle," Kevin said as he filled the drawer with money. "I should be back by three."
Gabrielle spun around and looked at her business partner. Tension choked the air, but no one besides her seemed to notice. It clogged her throat, but for the first time since she'd been arrested, relief lifted her spirits a little, too. There was an end to this madness in sight. The sooner Kevin left, the sooner the detective could search, and the sooner he would find nothing. The sooner he would leave her store and her life. "Oh, okay. Take all the time you need. If you get really busy, you don't have to come back at all."
Kevin shifted his gaze from Gabrielle to the man standing directly behind her. "I'll be back."
As soon as Kevin was gone, Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder. "Do your thing, Detective," she said, then moved to the front counter and began wrapping the blue plate in tissue paper. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pull a small black notebook out of the back pocket of his Levi's. He flipped it open and slowly walked through her store, thumbing past one page and pausing to scribble on another.
"When does Mara Paglino come to work?" he asked without looking up.
"One-thirty."
He checked the marking on the bottom of a Wedgwood butter dish, then flipped the notebook closed again. "If Kevin comes back early, keep him out here with you," he said as he walked to the office and shut the door behind him.
"How?" she asked the empty store. If Kevin came back early, she didn't know how-short of tackling him-to keep him from discovering the detective rifling through his desk. But it really wouldn't matter if Kevin came back early and caught Joe red-handed. Kevin would know. He was so over-the-top neat that he always just knew if someone had touched his things.
During the next two hours, Gabrielle's nerves coiled tighter and tighter. Every tick of the clock pushed her closer to a complete breakdown. She tried to lose herself in daily routine, she failed. She was much too aware of the detective searching for incriminating evidence behind the closed door of her office.
Several times she walked toward the office door with the intention of sticking her head inside and seeing exactly what he was doing, but she always lost her nerve. Every little sound made her jump, and a knot formed in her throat and stomach, preventing her from eating the broccoli soup she'd brought for her lunch. By the time Joe finally emerged from the office at one o'clock, Gabrielle was so tense that she felt like screaming. Instead, she took deep breaths and silently chanted the soothing seven-syllable mantra she'd composed eighteen years ago to cope with the death of her father.
"Okay." Joe interrupted her attempt to find her quiet center. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
He must not have found anything incriminating. But Gabrielle wasn't surprised; there wasn't anything to find. She followed him to the back room. "You're leaving?"
He looked into her eyes, and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"
"Of course not, but what about the shelves? What am I supposed to tell Kevin?"
"Tell him I'll start tomorrow." He took his sunglasses from the pocket of his T-shirt. "I need to put a wiretap on your business phone. So come in a little early in the morning. It won't take me but a few minutes."
"You're going to bug my telephone? Don't you need a court order or something?"
"No. I just need your permission, which you're going to give me."
"No, I'm not."
His dark brows lowered and his eyes turned hard. "Why the hell not? I thought you said you didn't have anything to do with the theft of Hillard's Monet."
"I didn't."
"Then don't act like you have something to hide."
"I'm not. It's a horrible invasion of privacy."
He rocked back on his heels and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Only if you're guilty. Giving your permission could help prove you and Kevin are innocent as babes."
"But you don't believe that, do you?"
"No," he answered without hesitation.
It took a great deal of effort not to tell him exactly where he could shove his wiretap. He was so sure of himself. So absolutely certain, but so mistaken. A wiretap would gain him nothing, and there was only one way to prove him wrong. "Fine," she said. "Do whatever you want. Put up a video camera. Wheel out the polygraph. Bring out the thumbscrews."
"The tap will be sufficient for now." He opened the back door and shoved his sunglasses on the bridge of his straight nose. "I save my thumbscrews for kinky informants who get off on that sort of thing." The sensual lines of his lips curved into the kind of provocative smile that could make a woman almost forgive him for handcuffing her and hauling her to jail. "Are you interested?"
Gabrielle looked down at her feet, away from the mesmerizing effect of that smile, horrified that he could affect her at all. "No, thank you."
He hooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze,back to his. His seductive voice brushed across her flesh. "I can be real gentle."
She looked into his sunglasses and couldn't tell if he was joking or if he was serious. If he was trying to seduce her or if it was just her imagination. "I'll pass."
"Chicken." He dropped his hand and took a step backward. "You let me know if you change your mind."
For a few moments after he left, she stared at the closed door. A funny little flutter tickled her stomach, and she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn't eaten. But she didn't really believe it. With the detective gone, she should have felt better, but she didn't. He'd be back tomorrow with his wiretap, eavesdropping on conversations.
By the time Gabrielle left for the day, she'felt as if her brain had swelled and her head was about to explode. She didn't know for certain, but she thought she just might be developing a stress fracture at the base of her skull.
The drive home, which normally took Gabrielle ten minutes, was accomplished in five. She darted her blue Toyota pickup in and out of traffic and was never so glad to pull into the one-car garage in the back of her house.