"I can come up with something. Go ahead and take your pictures."
Malory aimed the camera, waited until Brad's footsteps receded. “Talk about gods," she murmured to Zoe.
"What?"
"Bradley Charles Vane IV. His kind of looks just smack a woman right in the hormones."
"Looks are genetic." Zoe very nearly sniffed. "Personality and manners are developed."
"It was one fine day in the gene pool when he was made." She lowered the camera. "I gave you the impression he was giving me a hard time. Really, he wasn't."
"Maybe, maybe not. But he's an arrogant snob."
"Wow." Malory blinked at the vehemence in Zoe's voice. "I didn't get that. I can't imagine Flynn being friends with anyone who fits the snob category. Arrogant is debatable."
Zoe jerked a shoulder. "I've run into his type before. They're more interested in looking good than in being human. Anyway, he's not important. The painting is."
"I think it is. And what you said about them being a set, part of a set. I think that's true, and there's at least one more. I have to find it. Something in them, or about them, is going to point me toward the key. I'd better hit the books."
"Want some help?"
"All I can get."
"I'll head back now. There are a couple of things I need to do, then I'll swing by your place."
About the time Brad unearthed a bottle of shampoo he heard a car start. He went to the window, cursed under his breath as he watched Zoe and Malory head down his lane.
As far as first impressions went, he'd made a complete mess of it. He didn't usually alienate women on sight. But then again, the sight of a woman didn't usually slam into him like a hard, sweaty fist. Considering that, he supposed he could be excused for not being at his best.
He went downstairs, then detoured back into the great room instead of continuing to the outside. He stood staring at the painting as he had the first time he'd seen it at the auction house. The way he'd stared at it countless times since he'd acquired it.
He'd have paid any price for it.
It was true enough what he'd told Malory and Flynn. He'd bought it because it was magnificent, powerful, compelling. He'd been intrigued by the one figure's face, its resemblance to his childhood friend.
But it had been another face in the painting that had dazzled him, consumed him. Undone him. One look at that face, Zoe's face, and he'd fallen unreasonably in love.
Strange enough, he thought, when the woman had simply been a figure in a painting. How much more complicated and impossible was it now that he knew she was real?
He thought about it while he put some of his house in order. He continued to think about it later when he and Flynn climbed up to sit on the wall surrounding Warrior's Peak.
They each opened a beer and studied the exotic silhouette etched against a gloomy sky.
Lights glowed against the windows here and there, but as they drank their beers in silence, they saw no figure pass behind the glass.
"They probably know we're out here," Flynn said after a time.
"If we take your girlfriend's theory to heart, and label them Celtic gods with a few thousand years under their belts, yeah, pretty safe bet they know we're out here."
"You used to be more open-minded," Flynn noted.
"Ah, no. Not really. Jordan would be the one inclined to bite on this kind of a story line and run with it."
"You see him lately?"
"A couple months ago. He's been doing a lot of traveling, so we don't manage to get together as often as we used to. Fuck it, Flynn." Brad flung an arm around
Flynn's shoulder. "I've missed you assholes."
"Same goes. You going to tell me what you thought of Malory?"
"Classy, intellectual, and very, very hot—despite her dubious taste in men."
Flynn tapped the heels of his ancient tennis shoes against the stone of the wall. "I'm about half crazy about her."
"Serious crazy, or let's mambo crazy?" "I don't know. Haven't figured it yet." He studied the house, and the quarter slice of moon that drifted over it. "I'm hoping it's door number two, because I'd just as soon not get serious crazy at
this point."
"Lily was a social-climbing opportunist with a great rack."
"Jesus, Vane." He wasn't sure whether to laugh or give his friend a hard shove off the seven-foot wall. So he did neither and only brooded instead. "I was in love with her. I was going to marry her."
"Now you're not and you didn't. Lucky break for you. She wasn't worthy, Flynn."
Flynn shifted. He couldn't see Brad's eyes clearly. Their color blended into the night. "Worthy of what?"
"Of you."
"That's a hell of a thing to say."
"You'll feel better about the whole thing once you admit I'm right. Now back to current affairs. I liked her—your Malory—if you're keeping score."
"Even though you think she's whacked."
Boggy ground, Brad mused, even when you were walking it with a friend. "I think she's found herself in extraordinary circumstances and she's caught up in the mystique. Why wouldn't she be?"
Flynn had to smile. "That's just a diplomatic, bullshit way of saying she's whacked."
"You once punched me in the face for saying Joley
Ridenbecker had beaver teeth. I'm not heading meetings on Monday with a black eye."
"See, you are a suit. If I admit that Joley did indeed have teeth like a beaver, will you believe me if I tell you I've never known anyone with less of a whack quotient than Malory Price?"
"Okay, I'll take your word. And I'll admit the whole thing about the paintings is intriguing." Brad gestured with the beer, then drank again. "I'd like to get a look at the one in there myself."
"We can go up, knock on the door."
"In the daylight," Brad decided. "When we haven't been drinking."
"Probably better." "Meanwhile, why don't you tell me more about this Zoe?"
"Haven't known her long, but I did some background checking. On her and Mal. Just in case Dana was getting sucked into some weird-ass scam. She moved to the Valley three years ago, with her kid."
"Husband?"
"Nope. Single parent. Looks like a good one to me. I met the kid. He's bright, normal, appealing. She worked at Hair Today, girly hair place on Market. Word is she's good at her profession, personable with customers, reliable. Got canned the same time Malory did, and around the same time they cut Dana's hours at the library to the bone. Another weird coincidence. She bought this little cardboard box of a house when she moved here. Apparently she's done most of the fixingup work herself."
"Boyfriend?"
"Not that I know of. She… wait a minute. You ask two questions. Husband, boyfriend. My razor-sharp reporter's instinct leads me to the conclusion that you're thinking of the mambo."
"Or something. I should get back. I've got a hell of a lot to do in the next couple of days. But there's this one thing." Brad took another pull on the bottle. "How the hell are we going to get off this wall?"
"Good question." Flynn pursed his lips, studied the ground. "We could just sit here and keep drinking until we fall off."
Brad sighed, drained the bottle. "There's a plan."
Chapter Ten
Malory was barely out of the shower when she heard the knock on her front door. She belted her robe, snagged a towel, and wound it around her hair as she hurried to answer.
“Tod. You're up and about early."
"On my way to the coffee shop to ogle the nine-to-fivers before heading to work." He peered over her right shoulder, her left, then gave her a leer. "Got company?"
Malory swung the door wider in invitation. "No. All alone."