too, just…because.
What that had to do with her sugar container or her coffee supply, she didn’t know.
But it was easier to imagine than someone searching her sugar and coffee canisters, which was just weird.
Why would anyone search anything of hers?
When she picked up her phone, it was working. She called the Whitakers to be sure, and Betsy Whitaker answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Betsy. It’s Kim from downstairs. Have you been having trouble with your phone?”
“No, why? Are you?”
“No,” Kim said. “Just…well, Mrs. Beasley said someone from the phone company was here today and…Oh, never mind, Betsy. Sorry I bothered you. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Did they have phone lines outside anyone’s apartment? Or a phone box of some sort somewhere? Maybe wiring that someone needed to check that day?
She knew next to nothing about phone boxes or wiring or anything like that.
She just knew that her phone seemed to be working fine, that Eric hadn’t called and that someone seemed to have searched her sugar and coffee canisters.
What could anyone possibly expect to find in there?
Chapter Seven
N ick was playing Peeping Tom again. As best he could considering it was daytime.
Not that he was looking forward to nighttime, either.
He wasn’t looking forward to anything.
Certainly not bath time.
Torture time, as he’d come to think of it.
Did she take a bath every day? Or was that a kind of treat? A relaxation thing? An indulgence?
So far, she’d taken a bath every night.
Although her climbing out of the shower couldn’t be that much better.
Nick groaned just thinking about it as he watched her look around her apartment like she’d lost something. As long as it kept her out of the bathtub, he was happy.
Harry called on Nick’s cell, no doubt because Nick refused to turn on his radio. Harry could be damned irritating.
“Yeah,” Nick said, sitting in his spot by the window, looking down into her apartment with grim resolve.
“I’ve got fifty bucks that says she takes a bath again tonight,” Harry said.
“Shut up, Harry!”
“Ahhh, come on. We have to have a little fun.”
“What did you find out about the phone number?” Nick asked.
“It’s a cell. One of those pay-as-you-go ones, just like we suspected.”
“Dammit,” Nick said.
Those things would be outlawed if he had anything to say about it, because there was no friggin’ paperwork. No name. No address. No nothing. Anybody could buy one at any time and call anyone else, and unless you could catch the call bouncing off a satellite somewhere because you had the party on the other side of the call under surveillance, there was no way to trace the call.
“Yeah. I know. We dialed. Guy didn’t answer. The message feature has one of those weird, computerized, fake voices saying you can leave a message, so there’s no voiceprint. No way to know if he’s even still using the phone or if he’s ditched it. Hell, he could have a dozen of these phones and never use the same one twice. We gotta figure out what to tell Little Miss Gorgeous about it.”
What would be best to tell her, Harry meant. What would further their investigation?
“Okay. We tell her the truth, she’s probably going to think it’s odd that he’d be using a phone like that,” Nick said. “Or that he has lousy credit and is a lousy prospect as a boyfriend.” None of which they wanted. “We tell her the line’s not working and then she’s got an excuse for why he hasn’t called her. Although why he wouldn’t call from work or home or borrow someone’s phone…”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t let a phone being out of order keep me from calling her,” Harry said.
“Yeah. We tell her it’s a landline, she’s going to want an address so she can try to find him herself—”
“Or if she has another way to contact him, she’d probably use it then.”
And they needed to know if she had another way to contact him.
The only problem was,
What that had to do with her sugar container or her coffee supply, she didn’t know.
But it was easier to imagine than someone searching her sugar and coffee canisters, which was just weird.
Why would anyone search anything of hers?
When she picked up her phone, it was working. She called the Whitakers to be sure, and Betsy Whitaker answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Betsy. It’s Kim from downstairs. Have you been having trouble with your phone?”
“No, why? Are you?”
“No,” Kim said. “Just…well, Mrs. Beasley said someone from the phone company was here today and…Oh, never mind, Betsy. Sorry I bothered you. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Did they have phone lines outside anyone’s apartment? Or a phone box of some sort somewhere? Maybe wiring that someone needed to check that day?
She knew next to nothing about phone boxes or wiring or anything like that.
She just knew that her phone seemed to be working fine, that Eric hadn’t called and that someone seemed to have searched her sugar and coffee canisters.
What could anyone possibly expect to find in there?
Chapter Seven
N ick was playing Peeping Tom again. As best he could considering it was daytime.
Not that he was looking forward to nighttime, either.
He wasn’t looking forward to anything.
Certainly not bath time.
Torture time, as he’d come to think of it.
Did she take a bath every day? Or was that a kind of treat? A relaxation thing? An indulgence?
So far, she’d taken a bath every night.
Although her climbing out of the shower couldn’t be that much better.
Nick groaned just thinking about it as he watched her look around her apartment like she’d lost something. As long as it kept her out of the bathtub, he was happy.
Harry called on Nick’s cell, no doubt because Nick refused to turn on his radio. Harry could be damned irritating.
“Yeah,” Nick said, sitting in his spot by the window, looking down into her apartment with grim resolve.
“I’ve got fifty bucks that says she takes a bath again tonight,” Harry said.
“Shut up, Harry!”
“Ahhh, come on. We have to have a little fun.”
“What did you find out about the phone number?” Nick asked.
“It’s a cell. One of those pay-as-you-go ones, just like we suspected.”
“Dammit,” Nick said.
Those things would be outlawed if he had anything to say about it, because there was no friggin’ paperwork. No name. No address. No nothing. Anybody could buy one at any time and call anyone else, and unless you could catch the call bouncing off a satellite somewhere because you had the party on the other side of the call under surveillance, there was no way to trace the call.
“Yeah. I know. We dialed. Guy didn’t answer. The message feature has one of those weird, computerized, fake voices saying you can leave a message, so there’s no voiceprint. No way to know if he’s even still using the phone or if he’s ditched it. Hell, he could have a dozen of these phones and never use the same one twice. We gotta figure out what to tell Little Miss Gorgeous about it.”
What would be best to tell her, Harry meant. What would further their investigation?
“Okay. We tell her the truth, she’s probably going to think it’s odd that he’d be using a phone like that,” Nick said. “Or that he has lousy credit and is a lousy prospect as a boyfriend.” None of which they wanted. “We tell her the line’s not working and then she’s got an excuse for why he hasn’t called her. Although why he wouldn’t call from work or home or borrow someone’s phone…”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t let a phone being out of order keep me from calling her,” Harry said.
“Yeah. We tell her it’s a landline, she’s going to want an address so she can try to find him herself—”
“Or if she has another way to contact him, she’d probably use it then.”
And they needed to know if she had another way to contact him.
The only problem was,
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