he—"
"Artemis Angle," Seaver repeated slowly. A chill ran down my spine. I pulled up my collar against the rain that he didn't seem to notice.
Maizy nodded. "The Society of Seers? Interesting man."
"Bloodsucker," Seaver said sharply.
"Well, he was very complimentary of your sister-in-law," Maizy said. "He said she was very gifted."
"I suppose to a housefly," Seaver said, "a spider is very gifted."
It didn't take a trained eye to see that Seaver didn't seem to hold Dorcas in the highest regard. And he certainly didn't care for Artemis Angle either.
"I thought it might be helpful," Maizy went on, "to get a few shots of Mrs. Beeber's working space. For color, you understand."
I stared at her. There was no way I was setting foot back in that studio. And I wasn't shutting myself into a deserted building with Seaver. I was beginning to suspect he spent the daylight hours asleep, in a bed with a lid.
Seaver studied Maizy. She held steady, looking back at him without guile. She'd pulled up her hood so that the blue hair was under cover. Her hands weren't shaking or anything. "May I ask how old you are?" he said finally. "You seem very young to be a reporter."
"Aren't you sweet," she said. "But ladies never tell." She took a step toward the door. "So, if you have a few minutes—"
"I'm sorry, I don't." He stuck a key in the lock, angling his body so that he blocked our sightline. "My brother asked me to pick up something for him. I have no intention of spending any time in this place." He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes black. "And I suggest you don't, either. It's not safe. They say killers often return to the scene of their crime." His teeth flashed in a very inappropriate and chilling grin. "I'd hate to see something happen to either of you."
Maizy looked at me and did a what did I tell you? eyebrow raise. She opened her mouth but before she could put her foot in it, I put my arm around her and guided her back in the direction of the Gremlin. I was soaked and my creepy quotient was full. "Sorry to bother you," I said. "Give my regards to Weaver." And I hustled Maizy into the street.
"Wait!" he called out.
I felt Maizy slowing to a stop. "Keep moving," I whispered.
"Maybe he changed his mind," she whispered back.
"There is no way he changed his mind," I told her.
"I changed my mind," he yelled. "You can take your photos."
"Don't you dare turn around," I whispered harshly.
Maizy pivoted toward Seaver but kept walking backwards. "Sorry," she called out. "I just realized I forgot my camera. I usually have a photographer traveling with me, but budget cuts, you understand."
I looked over my shoulder, and I wasn't sure, what with the dark and the rain, but I could have sworn Seaver was chuckling, and not in a good-natured kind of way. More like a nasty I nailed you kind of way. "Yes," he called back. "I understand completely. I'll be seeing you again, ladies."
Not if I could help it, he wouldn't.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Monday mornings were delightful all on their own with the flood of phone calls from the litigiously challenged forced to wait out the weekend. Mine was made even more so when Detective Bradley Bensinger showed up at 9:15. He was very short and very hairy and very muscular. His slacks strained to contain his Incredible Hulk thighs. His jacket stretched tight across his shoulders. He had no neck. He did, however, have a full head of very thick hair, so black it was almost blue, with a little curl to it that would have been cute if it had been on someone else's head.
He sat next to me in the conference room, smiling as if we'd just been reacquainted at a class reunion. "You can relax," he told me, as if there was any chance of that. "I'm not here to arrest you."
Yet was the unspoken ending to that sentence.
"What a relief," I said, although I wasn't feeling relieved at all. "I already gave a statement," I added.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, you did. And I read your statement." He kept smiling. His
"Artemis Angle," Seaver repeated slowly. A chill ran down my spine. I pulled up my collar against the rain that he didn't seem to notice.
Maizy nodded. "The Society of Seers? Interesting man."
"Bloodsucker," Seaver said sharply.
"Well, he was very complimentary of your sister-in-law," Maizy said. "He said she was very gifted."
"I suppose to a housefly," Seaver said, "a spider is very gifted."
It didn't take a trained eye to see that Seaver didn't seem to hold Dorcas in the highest regard. And he certainly didn't care for Artemis Angle either.
"I thought it might be helpful," Maizy went on, "to get a few shots of Mrs. Beeber's working space. For color, you understand."
I stared at her. There was no way I was setting foot back in that studio. And I wasn't shutting myself into a deserted building with Seaver. I was beginning to suspect he spent the daylight hours asleep, in a bed with a lid.
Seaver studied Maizy. She held steady, looking back at him without guile. She'd pulled up her hood so that the blue hair was under cover. Her hands weren't shaking or anything. "May I ask how old you are?" he said finally. "You seem very young to be a reporter."
"Aren't you sweet," she said. "But ladies never tell." She took a step toward the door. "So, if you have a few minutes—"
"I'm sorry, I don't." He stuck a key in the lock, angling his body so that he blocked our sightline. "My brother asked me to pick up something for him. I have no intention of spending any time in this place." He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes black. "And I suggest you don't, either. It's not safe. They say killers often return to the scene of their crime." His teeth flashed in a very inappropriate and chilling grin. "I'd hate to see something happen to either of you."
Maizy looked at me and did a what did I tell you? eyebrow raise. She opened her mouth but before she could put her foot in it, I put my arm around her and guided her back in the direction of the Gremlin. I was soaked and my creepy quotient was full. "Sorry to bother you," I said. "Give my regards to Weaver." And I hustled Maizy into the street.
"Wait!" he called out.
I felt Maizy slowing to a stop. "Keep moving," I whispered.
"Maybe he changed his mind," she whispered back.
"There is no way he changed his mind," I told her.
"I changed my mind," he yelled. "You can take your photos."
"Don't you dare turn around," I whispered harshly.
Maizy pivoted toward Seaver but kept walking backwards. "Sorry," she called out. "I just realized I forgot my camera. I usually have a photographer traveling with me, but budget cuts, you understand."
I looked over my shoulder, and I wasn't sure, what with the dark and the rain, but I could have sworn Seaver was chuckling, and not in a good-natured kind of way. More like a nasty I nailed you kind of way. "Yes," he called back. "I understand completely. I'll be seeing you again, ladies."
Not if I could help it, he wouldn't.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Monday mornings were delightful all on their own with the flood of phone calls from the litigiously challenged forced to wait out the weekend. Mine was made even more so when Detective Bradley Bensinger showed up at 9:15. He was very short and very hairy and very muscular. His slacks strained to contain his Incredible Hulk thighs. His jacket stretched tight across his shoulders. He had no neck. He did, however, have a full head of very thick hair, so black it was almost blue, with a little curl to it that would have been cute if it had been on someone else's head.
He sat next to me in the conference room, smiling as if we'd just been reacquainted at a class reunion. "You can relax," he told me, as if there was any chance of that. "I'm not here to arrest you."
Yet was the unspoken ending to that sentence.
"What a relief," I said, although I wasn't feeling relieved at all. "I already gave a statement," I added.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, you did. And I read your statement." He kept smiling. His
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