clue, but the look on
his face belied his words. Worry glimmered in those tawny eyes that
looked so much like Kennedy’s. Not to mention the way the man had
insisted that he take Drake and Kennedy out for a drink to
celebrate Drake’s quick thinking. He’d herded them away from the
growing crowd at the gym as if he feared some disastrous event
might occur. Drake still wondered how the man showed up so fast,
even before the police arrived at the gym.
“I caught him all right,” Drake confirmed. “I
have his profile, approximate height and weight, at least.”
He carried both a film camera and a digital.
He just happened to be using the film camera when the event
occurred. There had been no time to retrieve the digital camera.
The local drugstore had one-hour developing but it wasn’t open all
night. Martin, like the few who knew he had gotten the shots, would
simply have to wait. The mayor looked as if he might not survive
the wait. Drake’s suspicions were growing by leaps and bounds. “Who
knows,” he added just to see the man’s reaction? “Sometimes I catch
more than I expect.” Before he could analyze the look in Martin’s
eyes, Kennedy interrupted.
“Personally,” Kennedy announced, her voice
slightly slurred, “I can’t wait to find out who he is. Thirty years
is too long for a mystery to remain unsolved.”
“Would you folks like anything else?” the
waitress asked, hovering near the mayor’s elbow.
Drake shook his head. “Nothing else for me.”
He hadn’t even finished the first beer.
“I’ll have another, Lisa,” the mayor said
with a weary smile. “How about you, Kennedy?”
Kennedy lifted one shoulder in an attempt at
a shrug and grinned in a lopsided sort of way. “Why not? This is
great stuff.” She fingered the stem of her glass.
Drake frowned. He knew Kennedy wasn’t much of
a drinker. The only thing he had ever seen her indulge in was wine.
He leaned close and whispered, “Hey, those Long Island Teas are a
little stronger than you might realize.”
Kennedy cocked her head and stared at him,
aghast. Damn, it was too late, he realized. She was past the point
of caring.
“I bed…your pardon,” she retorted
thickly.
The waitress returned then and placed another
tall glass before Kennedy and the beer next to Martin’s empty can.
She thanked the mayor for his generous tip and moved on to the next
table.
“She’ll be fine,” Martin assured Drake.
“You’ll take good care of her. It’s not often than Kennedy lets her
hair down. Leave her be.”
Kennedy nodded once. “That’s right, Drake.
You let your hair down all the time. I can’t keep count of the
women coming and going at your apartment.” She shook a finger at
him. “What’s good for the goose—I mean the gander—is good for me.”
She hiccupped faintly.
The look Martin shot Drake was nothing short
of startled, which quickly turned openly accusing. Damn. He had to
get Kennedy out of here before she blew the spin to hell and
back.
“Sweetpea, you know better than to say things
like that,” Drake put in quickly, his eyes attempting to relay to
her the magnitude of her faux pas. “A photographer’s work is never
done.”
After a long drink, Kennedy sighed loudly,
then flipped her silky hair over her shoulders. “I don’t care about
your women, Drake, as long as you keep that thing away from me.”
Kennedy shuddered visibly. “The last time it was between my legs—”
She hiccupped again. “Well, anyway, just remember that I’m not
going to be a slave to that thing again. The maid might do it, but
I won’t anymore.”
Iggy. She was talking about his pet iguana.
One look at her uncle’s face and Drake knew that the man had formed
an entirely different theory. Anything Drake said at this point
would only make things worse. Kennedy’s advice to Larry rang in his
ears. Do not deny. Evade.
He shot out of his seat, almost knocking the
chair over in his haste. “Time to call it a night,
his face belied his words. Worry glimmered in those tawny eyes that
looked so much like Kennedy’s. Not to mention the way the man had
insisted that he take Drake and Kennedy out for a drink to
celebrate Drake’s quick thinking. He’d herded them away from the
growing crowd at the gym as if he feared some disastrous event
might occur. Drake still wondered how the man showed up so fast,
even before the police arrived at the gym.
“I caught him all right,” Drake confirmed. “I
have his profile, approximate height and weight, at least.”
He carried both a film camera and a digital.
He just happened to be using the film camera when the event
occurred. There had been no time to retrieve the digital camera.
The local drugstore had one-hour developing but it wasn’t open all
night. Martin, like the few who knew he had gotten the shots, would
simply have to wait. The mayor looked as if he might not survive
the wait. Drake’s suspicions were growing by leaps and bounds. “Who
knows,” he added just to see the man’s reaction? “Sometimes I catch
more than I expect.” Before he could analyze the look in Martin’s
eyes, Kennedy interrupted.
“Personally,” Kennedy announced, her voice
slightly slurred, “I can’t wait to find out who he is. Thirty years
is too long for a mystery to remain unsolved.”
“Would you folks like anything else?” the
waitress asked, hovering near the mayor’s elbow.
Drake shook his head. “Nothing else for me.”
He hadn’t even finished the first beer.
“I’ll have another, Lisa,” the mayor said
with a weary smile. “How about you, Kennedy?”
Kennedy lifted one shoulder in an attempt at
a shrug and grinned in a lopsided sort of way. “Why not? This is
great stuff.” She fingered the stem of her glass.
Drake frowned. He knew Kennedy wasn’t much of
a drinker. The only thing he had ever seen her indulge in was wine.
He leaned close and whispered, “Hey, those Long Island Teas are a
little stronger than you might realize.”
Kennedy cocked her head and stared at him,
aghast. Damn, it was too late, he realized. She was past the point
of caring.
“I bed…your pardon,” she retorted
thickly.
The waitress returned then and placed another
tall glass before Kennedy and the beer next to Martin’s empty can.
She thanked the mayor for his generous tip and moved on to the next
table.
“She’ll be fine,” Martin assured Drake.
“You’ll take good care of her. It’s not often than Kennedy lets her
hair down. Leave her be.”
Kennedy nodded once. “That’s right, Drake.
You let your hair down all the time. I can’t keep count of the
women coming and going at your apartment.” She shook a finger at
him. “What’s good for the goose—I mean the gander—is good for me.”
She hiccupped faintly.
The look Martin shot Drake was nothing short
of startled, which quickly turned openly accusing. Damn. He had to
get Kennedy out of here before she blew the spin to hell and
back.
“Sweetpea, you know better than to say things
like that,” Drake put in quickly, his eyes attempting to relay to
her the magnitude of her faux pas. “A photographer’s work is never
done.”
After a long drink, Kennedy sighed loudly,
then flipped her silky hair over her shoulders. “I don’t care about
your women, Drake, as long as you keep that thing away from me.”
Kennedy shuddered visibly. “The last time it was between my legs—”
She hiccupped again. “Well, anyway, just remember that I’m not
going to be a slave to that thing again. The maid might do it, but
I won’t anymore.”
Iggy. She was talking about his pet iguana.
One look at her uncle’s face and Drake knew that the man had formed
an entirely different theory. Anything Drake said at this point
would only make things worse. Kennedy’s advice to Larry rang in his
ears. Do not deny. Evade.
He shot out of his seat, almost knocking the
chair over in his haste. “Time to call it a night,
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