the latest ex-wife's settlement or Drew had been reduced to selling things for cash. Audie didn't care much either way. They were just things—Drew's things. He could do whatever he liked with them.
Drew handed her what looked like a gin and tonic. "Relax, Audie. How's the column going? How's soccer this season? How's Russell?"
Audie stared at the drink in her hand, carried it patiently to the bar, and set it down. Her brother had already deposited himself in a slip-covered chair, looking quite self-satisfied.
"I'm not seeing Russell Ketchum anymore, not for six months. We're seven-and-two. And some kook is threatening to kill me."
"So I hear." Drew gestured for his sister to have a seat near him in the library. Audie saw that he'd had the Oriental carpets and heavy draperies removed for the summer, just like Helen used to do. The property seemed well tended. Drew seemed to be staying on top of things, wife or no.
"The Chicago Police have already paid me a call—fine public servants they were, too. One of them seemed to be quite interested in your welfare." Drew brought the crystal tumbler to his lips and inclined his head a bit. "The macho Irish one. Finn."
Audie frowned at him. "Quinn. And I didn't know they'd already come to see you."
"Right after lunch today, actually. We spent quite a bit of quality time together, discussing sibling rivalry, my private financial affairs, my ex-wives, that sort of unpleasantness. Mrs. Splawinski was here, so it was like Warsaw old home week for the big Polish guy—they were jabbering in the kitchen while she made him brownies. You sure you won't have a drink?"
Audie felt her eyes glaze over for a moment, then tried to refocus. There he was—her brother, her flesh and blood—in his urban-chic eyeglasses, his Ralph Lauren khakis and Polo shirt and his Sperry topsiders, and she felt so little of anything for him.
Audie didn't hate Drew, but she didn't love him, either. He was just some man she never would have tolerated had he not been her brother, had he not shared a childhood with her and was now the only living relative she had in the world.
She saw that Drew's dark hair was starting to thin, leaving a shiny spot on top of his head. His skin was as tanned as it was every summer, but she saw a touch of gray beneath the brown this year. He was drinking too much, obviously, and he looked much older than thirty-three. He also seemed more arrogant and bored than the last time she'd seen him, if that could be possible.
It occurred to Audie that Drew was starting to resemble Helen around the eyes.
Audie studied him carefully. Did he look dangerous? She nearly laughed at herself for even considering the possibility.
"So how is Mrs. Splawinski?" Audie asked, smiling politely. "Any brownies left?"
Drew chuckled. "Yeah, sure. On the counter. Help yourself."
As Audie made the trip to the kitchen, she thought of the family's energetic cook. She'd stayed on with Drew after Helen moved to Lakeside Pointe, and Audie didn't see her often.
"Is her hip doing better?" Audie was back on the couch, two soft, chewy brownies in her hand.
"Oh, she's the Bionic Woman now, zipping around on all her plastic parts. Fit as a fiddle."
Audie smiled. "So what happened with the detectives, Drew?"
He sighed. "Well, I don't think they're quite ready to cart me off to Stateville, but they wanted to see my computer and printer and get my fingerprints. It was quite the Starsky and Hutch kind of experience, let me tell you."
Audie leaned back into the soft cotton slipcover on the sofa, crossed her legs, and munched. She watched his expression closely. "I'm sorry about the police coming here."
"Oh, for God's sake." Drew waved his hand around before he took another sip. "I was happy to oblige. It's truly awful. I can't believe you never said one word about it to me. Are the letters still coming?"
Audie stretched an arm along the back of the couch and wiped a few crumbs off her shirt. She'd inhaled those
Drew handed her what looked like a gin and tonic. "Relax, Audie. How's the column going? How's soccer this season? How's Russell?"
Audie stared at the drink in her hand, carried it patiently to the bar, and set it down. Her brother had already deposited himself in a slip-covered chair, looking quite self-satisfied.
"I'm not seeing Russell Ketchum anymore, not for six months. We're seven-and-two. And some kook is threatening to kill me."
"So I hear." Drew gestured for his sister to have a seat near him in the library. Audie saw that he'd had the Oriental carpets and heavy draperies removed for the summer, just like Helen used to do. The property seemed well tended. Drew seemed to be staying on top of things, wife or no.
"The Chicago Police have already paid me a call—fine public servants they were, too. One of them seemed to be quite interested in your welfare." Drew brought the crystal tumbler to his lips and inclined his head a bit. "The macho Irish one. Finn."
Audie frowned at him. "Quinn. And I didn't know they'd already come to see you."
"Right after lunch today, actually. We spent quite a bit of quality time together, discussing sibling rivalry, my private financial affairs, my ex-wives, that sort of unpleasantness. Mrs. Splawinski was here, so it was like Warsaw old home week for the big Polish guy—they were jabbering in the kitchen while she made him brownies. You sure you won't have a drink?"
Audie felt her eyes glaze over for a moment, then tried to refocus. There he was—her brother, her flesh and blood—in his urban-chic eyeglasses, his Ralph Lauren khakis and Polo shirt and his Sperry topsiders, and she felt so little of anything for him.
Audie didn't hate Drew, but she didn't love him, either. He was just some man she never would have tolerated had he not been her brother, had he not shared a childhood with her and was now the only living relative she had in the world.
She saw that Drew's dark hair was starting to thin, leaving a shiny spot on top of his head. His skin was as tanned as it was every summer, but she saw a touch of gray beneath the brown this year. He was drinking too much, obviously, and he looked much older than thirty-three. He also seemed more arrogant and bored than the last time she'd seen him, if that could be possible.
It occurred to Audie that Drew was starting to resemble Helen around the eyes.
Audie studied him carefully. Did he look dangerous? She nearly laughed at herself for even considering the possibility.
"So how is Mrs. Splawinski?" Audie asked, smiling politely. "Any brownies left?"
Drew chuckled. "Yeah, sure. On the counter. Help yourself."
As Audie made the trip to the kitchen, she thought of the family's energetic cook. She'd stayed on with Drew after Helen moved to Lakeside Pointe, and Audie didn't see her often.
"Is her hip doing better?" Audie was back on the couch, two soft, chewy brownies in her hand.
"Oh, she's the Bionic Woman now, zipping around on all her plastic parts. Fit as a fiddle."
Audie smiled. "So what happened with the detectives, Drew?"
He sighed. "Well, I don't think they're quite ready to cart me off to Stateville, but they wanted to see my computer and printer and get my fingerprints. It was quite the Starsky and Hutch kind of experience, let me tell you."
Audie leaned back into the soft cotton slipcover on the sofa, crossed her legs, and munched. She watched his expression closely. "I'm sorry about the police coming here."
"Oh, for God's sake." Drew waved his hand around before he took another sip. "I was happy to oblige. It's truly awful. I can't believe you never said one word about it to me. Are the letters still coming?"
Audie stretched an arm along the back of the couch and wiped a few crumbs off her shirt. She'd inhaled those
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