“Not that I know of.” She tapped the end of the pen against the tabletop, thinking. “But then, I hadn’t even realized she had an affair with him until Andrew told me. If Vella kept any souvenirs of her time with Wilder Jones, they would be at the Shelbyville house.”
“You said the basement was filled with boxes and cartons.”
“Yes. Most of them contain her paintings. I suppose we’ll have to go through them. It’s going to be a job. There must be two or three hundred pictures in that basement. As far as I know they’re all masks.”
The doorbell chimed, startling Raine into dropping the pen. “It’s six-thirty in the morning. Who in the world?”
“Got a hunch that’s your babysitter.”
Zack put down his coffee mug and went into the living room. Robin and Batman trotted along at his heels, ears perked and tails high. They had adopted him, Raine realized. As far as they were concerned, Zack was now part of the gang. She tried to recall the name for a group of cats. Clowder. That was it. Unfortunately it didn’t sound very exciting, let alone cool. No wonder people didn’t use it to describe those of the feline persuasion.
She heard the front door open and the rumble of a deep bass voice that sounded like it came from the heart of a mountain. She got to her feet, exercising some caution because her ankle was still tender, and went to stand in the doorway.
A big, dark-skinned man a few years younger than Zack occupied a considerable amount of space in her small living room. His head was completely shaved and gleamed as though it had been waxed. Dark glasses veiled his eyes. A gold ring flashed from one ear. He was dressed in khakis, a dark blue pullover shirt and a battered suede bomber jacket. She caught a glimpse of a shoulder holster beneath the jacket.
He gave her a smile that could have lit up the stage of a large theater.
“You must be the client,” he said.
She didn’t even try to resist the smile. “You must be the bodyguard.”
“This is Raine Tallentyre,” Zack said. “Raine, meet Calvin Harp.”
Raine extended her hand. “A pleasure, Mr. Harp.”
“Call me Calvin.” He shook her hand and then looked down at the cats, who were sitting directly in front of him, gazing upward with unblinking stares. “Who are these guys?”
“Batman and Robin,” Zack said.
Calvin beamed. “What do you know? Couple of my favorite masked avengers.”
He went down on his haunches and held out his hand. The cats sniffed his fingers in an assessing manner and appeared to be satisfied. Calvin rubbed their ears gently with one huge hand and straightened.
“Looks like you’re in the club,” Zack said. “How about some coffee?”
Calvin’s smile got even bigger. “Excellent idea. Any chance of some food? I’ve been a little busy since I got Fallon’s call a few hours ago. Wasn’t anything to eat on board the company plane except a couple of boxes of doughnuts. Had to share ’em with the pilots.”
“How do you feel about peanut butter?” Zack asked.
“Works for me.” Calvin looked toward the kitchen with great interest. “Hell, I’m hungry enough to eat the cats’ food.”
Zack looked at Raine. “The only downside of working with Calvin is that you have to feed him. A lot.”
Forty-seven
Zack used a gadget from his J&J tool kit to let himself into the small studio apartment. He did not expect to find anything that pointed to Pandora as a member of Nightshade but he had learned the hard way not to let the personal get in the way of the logical.
The tiny space was decorated in what could only be described as High Goth. The ceiling was an elaborately detailed night sky, complete with crescent moon and stars. The walls were painted midnight blue, the window and door trims picked out in a paler shade. The furnishings were eclectic and mostly black punctuated with the occasional bloodred pillow.
He checked the refrigerator first. One of the things they had learned in the Stone Canyon affair was that Nightshade’s version of the formula had to be refrigerated. With luck, that was still true.
He opened the door with gloved hands. There was an assortment of leftover takeout, several bottles of water and a couple cases of soda. He took the small metal stick Fallon had given him out of its leather case and inserted it into the milk carton, just to be sure. It did not change color. He rinsed it off at the sink and tried the bottle of vinegar. No change.
He went through the rest of the apartment carefully but there was nothing to indicate that Pandora was anything other than what she appeared—a creative young woman with a flair for the offbeat and the dramatic.
He went out of the apartment, made his way down the three flights of stairs and walked the two blocks to where he had left the rental car.
Pandora emerged from the back room shortly before noon. “How does pizza sound?”
Calvin, sprawled in a chair with a cup of coffee, gave her a mockingly earnest look. “Don’t toy with me, woman. You never want to ask me a question like that unless you’re serious.”
Pandora’s answering laugh was light, almost a giggle, and so unexpected that Raine, standing behind the counter, could only stare at her in disbelief. She had never heard Pandora laugh like that.
“The restaurant at the end of the block makes great pizza,” Pandora assured Calvin. “I’ll go pick one up.”
“Oh, man,” Calvin said, big hand covering his heart. “The perfect woman. You with anyone?”
To Raine’s astonishment, Pandora actually blushed.
“Not at the moment,” she said lightly.
“This is definitely my lucky day,” Calvin declared.
Pandora looked oddly flustered. She turned hastily to Raine. “The usual? Olive and veggie?”
“Sounds good to me,” Raine said, still trying to get used to the sight of a sparkling-eyed Pandora. “If that’s okay with you, Calvin.”
“Sure.” Calvin took out a wallet. “Get two. Make sure one of ’em’s extra large.”
“That’s okay,” Raine said. “Lunch is on the house.”
“Nah, let’s let J&J pay for it.” Calvin crammed a fistful of cash into Pandora’s hand. “I’ll bill the pizzas as expenses.”
With a last lilting giggle, Pandora hurried out the door with the money.
Calvin watched her go with a besotted expression. “I think I’ve just met the girl of my dreams.”