With Private Eyes. Eileen Wilks
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Claudia wondered what mysterious male test Ethan had passed to rate the handshake. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Tell Gail hello, and give Molly a big, sloppy kiss for me.”
“Will do. I’d like a word with you before you leave.” He glanced at Ethan. “Family matters. If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside—?”
“No problem.” Ethan’s smile was wide, almost sleepy.
He didn’t look like a shark, but Claudia’s antennae were quivering. “You can talk to Mrs. Peabody. Nicholas’s assistant? She’s very nice.” And she really needed a home for those puppies.
He gave her a wry look. “Think I’ll read the report instead. I don’t need a puppy.” With a last nod at Nicholas, he headed for the door.
Claudia frowned at him. He’d seen right through her. How annoying.
As soon as the door closed behind Ethan, Nicholas turned those laser eyes on her, trying to slice through to the back of her head. “I don’t like the look in his eyes when he’s watching you.”
“Really?” Surprised pleasure hummed in her middle. She ignored that. Involuntary responses didn’t count. “I hadn’t noticed that kind of look on his face.”
“He doesn’t do it when you can see. Claudia.” He shook his head. “Mallory intends to trick you.”
“Oh, I know that.” She waved it aside. “He doesn’t know me very well.”
Nicholas’s lips twitched once before he smoothed them out. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
She smiled brightly, easily, at him and tried to make her eyes crinkle. “Of course. Don’t I always?”
Three
By the time Ethan left the building, he was feeling quite satisfied with the bargain he’d struck with his tame dragon. Norblusky’s personnel file had been all he’d hoped it would be—references, social security number, the works. Derrick Barone had played least-in-sight, but Gina Barone Kingman had been helpful.
And the report Nicholas had given Ethan was extremely interesting.
Whoever had handled the in-house investigation had done a good job of reconstructing events. The report concluded that the gelato had been adulterated when a person or persons unknown had entered the back of the refrigerated truck ferrying the gelato to the tasting while the truck was stuck in traffic.
Nothing amazing about a truck getting caught in traffic, but Ethan’s curiosity was snagged by the reason for that particular traffic jam. A produce truck had spilled bushels of habanero peppers all over the street.
Life was full of bizarre coincidences, and that was probably all this was. But he thought he’d check out the driver of the produce truck, anyway.
Ethan glanced at the woman beside him. Claudia had been elated by the news of Norblusky’s connection, then irritated when they learned her brother was gone—to a luncheon appointment, according to his secretary. Two hours before noon. Ethan was definitely curious about Derrick Barone.
It didn’t take a body-language genius to interpret the way Claudia tensed up every time Derrick’s name was mentioned. Ethan figured that Derrick was the Barones’ problem child. Most families had one. That by itself wouldn’t make him suspicious, but the report Nicholas had given him had confirmed what Ethan had suspected: the gelato tampering had been an inside job.
The people with the most knowledge and best access to the gelato were all Barones. Admittedly, an employee made a more likely saboteur than someone who was getting rich off Baronessa, but the Barone problem child had expensive tastes. Offered a big-enough bribe from one of Baronessa’s competitors, he might have chosen money now over money later.
All of which meant Ethan had to ditch the blonde. Pity, but given half a chance, Ms. Claudia Barone would put herself in charge of his investigation—and she wasn’t likely to investigate her brother.
Bossy woman. He smiled, thinking of the way she’d primmed up when he’d referred to her as a tame dragon.
“What’s that about?” she asked, all blue-eyed suspicion.
“What?” He opened the passenger door for her.
“That sneaky smile. Most of us do have different smiles, you know, for different occasions.”
“That stung, did it?” He went around to his side, climbed in and tossed the red-bound report in the box in the back seat that held his working files. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told her reassuringly. “I doubt most people notice the difference. Personally, though, I kind of like the crinkles.”
“I don’t recall expressing an interest in your opinion. My goodness, this car is chilly. Would you turn on the heat, please?”
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