A Dark Homage by Wendy Tyson

Author:Wendy Tyson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Inexpensive seemed hard to find in Cashman’s upscale neighborhood, so Delilah settled for a one-bedroom at Homewood Suites off the highway nearby. She and Anders trudged up the short stack of steps to reception and barely spoke on the elevator ride to the fifth floor. Delilah’s mind latched on to those blood stains in the bathroom. Together with the photo and the barren feel of the house, the nasty picture that was forming had solidified. But she felt too tired to make sense of anything right now. Sleep. She needed sleep.

Anders opened the door to the suite. Cold air blasted from within. The suite held a small bedroom and an open living room with a couch. A small bathroom was off the living room. Simple, but the rooms were clean and cockroach-free.

“You take the bedroom, I’ll take the couch,” Anders said. He sounded tired and looked as exhausted as Delilah felt. Delilah didn’t argue.

While he used the only bathroom, Delilah unpacked. She pulled shorts and a tank top from her overnight bag. She wanted to be ready in case they needed to leave suddenly. There had been no sign of Mr. Clean since Domino. Still, she thought of Natasha’s thugs and Miriam’s lifeless body. Whoever they were up against, trailing was the least of their intentions.

The digital clock read 12:09 a.m.

Delilah took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and dressed for bed. When she opened the bathroom door to head back to her bedroom, she saw Anders, already asleep on the couch. She smiled. They’d been together for four days now and hadn’t killed each other. Pretty impressive.

Delilah crawled into bed, her head swimming with details from the case. She tossed and turned, shivering in refrigerated air. Her head hurt and she rolled over, hoping a new position would ease the pain. It didn’t work. She needed another blanket and less air conditioning. An Advil would be nice, too.

As quietly as she could, she slid off the bed and opened the closet. No blankets. She opened the door to the living area, hoping to find the air conditioner control in the dark. She could make out the panel, beyond the couch.

She was halfway there when Anders said, “I can’t shake the feeling of desolation in that house.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Trying.”

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

Anders sat up. In the watery neon light seeping through the blinds, Delilah could make out broad shoulders, his bare chest. She closed her eyes.

She said, “What happened to Tula’s husband?”

Anders took so long to respond that Delilah thought maybe he’d drifted off to sleep. But when she looked his way again, she saw him staring at her. He was still sitting upright, his arms behind him, supporting his weight. His head was cocked to the side.

She said, “You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it.” He sighed. “Have a seat.”

Delilah perched on the edge of the sofa bed, the only seat in the room. She waited.

“Ahmed was a good man.

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