Sandford, John - Prey 18 - Phantom Prey by Sandford John

Author:Sandford, John
Language: eng
Format: epub

They sat in silence for a moment, and then she said, “Awful, isn’t it?

People sel ing each other out?”

“Trying to catch a kil er,” Lucas said.

“Wel , if your online biography is right, you’re pretty good at it.”

“Not bad,” he said. He stood up, and she stood up, and they shook hands again.

“Good luck with the new job.”

She clutched the briefcase to her breast, looked out over it and said,

“Luck is not a factor. I’l get the job and then I’l work harder than anyone they’ve ever hired.”

He watched her going off down the skyway, weaving through the crowd, looking at her Rolex.

She would always be in a hurry, he thought, right up until she dropped dead.

Could be the fairy. Physical y, anyway.

But if she was the fairy, what was she doing with the guy who shot at Lucas? She seemed to have nothing but disdain for Austin’s lover. And, if Lucas could judge by a one- second look, and he thought he could, the guy who shot at him would be one much like Frank Wil ett.

One of those guys who you can’t figure out how they make a living.

He looked at his notebook: Maybe get a look at Wil ett, huh?

187

P H A N T O M P R E Y

13

FAIRY WAS in the kitchen when he cal ed to her; out the window over the sink, the moon was rising behind the bare branches of the winter oaks.

“Hel o? Hel - o- o- o?” Loren said. He walked in, wearing another new outfit, this one with a ruffle at his neck, with a

green velvet coat that was cut long, as though he’d been traveling in the nineteenth century. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips were cold and dry. Then he stepped back and, looking down, said, “Those shorts aren’t particularly becoming.”

He was not trying to be offensive: he said it with the detached professional tone of a hairdresser about to suggest a change of style.

“I’ve been moving furniture,” Fairy said.

He cut her off: “Just an observation,” he said. He cocked his head and grinned, a practiced gesture that might have been made by a French fop in a romantic novel. But something caught in her throat, and she suspected he knew it. He was stil holding her hand, and she could feel the edges of his fingernails in her palm, like claws. “Pale women have a problem with thighs,” he said. “Their paleness, which can be very attractive, also makes them look a little heavy. A soft dress, on the other hand, something in a cool green, or a mint, would be stunning. Black would be good, in the evenings; Ivory would be fine, too—but of course, you know al this.”

“Now you’re a fashion maven?” Fairy asked.

“I have an interest in costume,” Loren said, not quite dismissively.

Before she could say anything else, he turned to the piano and hit a chord.

“You talk about the piano, but you never play,” she said. “You do play?”

“Yeah, sure.

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