Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

like—a big question mark.
    I shoved the paper into my bag and walked to the house, trying not to limp. At the top of the steps, on Kosh’s upstairs landing, I deliberately dropped my keys. As I bent to get them, I surveyed his street. No one was watching.
    His front door had several panes of ornamental glass. If I could break one, I could reach inside and unlock the door. Nobody would see. The only view of the door was from the deserted beach behind me. I decided to use my sweater to help me shatter a piece of glass without cutting myself, the way I’d seen it done on TV.
    Then I stopped. What if there were an alarm?
    I cupped my hands over my eyes and pressed my forehead toward the glass. On the other side, about ten feet away, a questioning face looked back at me. A matronly Hispanic woman, holding a squirt bottle of Tilex, came forward and opened the door. She had what looked like a cleaning-products-holster around her broad hips.
    I improvised. “May I see Mr. Kosh?”
    “He’s not here, so sorry.” She began to pull the door closed.
    I frowned. “That’s strange. We’re supposed to meet for breakfast.”
    She shrugged. “Not home.”
    “If you don’t mind,” I said, “I’ll wait out here. Hopefully he’ll be back soon.” I leaned against the porch’s wooden banister and turned toward the surf. The wind was picking up.
    Behind me, she said, “You want to sit?”
    I turned. When she nodded to a kitchen barstool, I smiled my thanks and followed her inside. She closed the door behind us, and I surveyed the front rooms. The living room, to the right, was bright with natural light and furnished with white leather and maple pieces. Enormous windows offered a spectacular view of the sea. The kitchen, where I sat, was small and tidy and smelled like citrus cleanser. The only items on the granite countertops, still damp from having been wiped, were a cutlery set and an espresso machine. Ahead, a hallway led to the part of the house that overlooked the street.
    I turned around and looked at the door. No alarm system keypad.
    “The house looks great,” I said. “Mr. Kosh says nice things about you. Ana, right?”
    “Teresa.”
    “Of course, I’m sorry.”
    She nodded and disappeared into a bathroom down the hall. I heard the shower curtain being pulled back and water running in the tub. It gave me an idea.
    I wandered toward the bathroom and found her bent over the tub, the fabric of her slacks stretched tightly around her extended rear end.
    “Is there another restroom I could use?”
    She pointed to the right without looking up from her scrubbing.
    “Thanks,” I said, turning toward Kosh’s master bedroom. I stepped inside and made a hasty search. The hanging space in the closet was filled with expensive women’s clothes. A small portion of one rack had men’s suits.
    Nothing was under the elaborate king-size sleigh bed, but a jewelry box on the dresser protected an impressive collection of gemstone earrings and pendants. I ran a tentative finger over what must have been thousands of dollars in necklaces, bracelets, and rings. I ducked inside the master bath and flushed the toilet.
    On the way back to my designated kitchen stool, I paused. “How long to clean a house this size, Teresa?”
    Kosh’s home office was straight ahead.
    “This house, two hours.” She grunted as she stood. “Other houses…not so neat.”
    Kosh had two computers, a desktop and a laptop, side by side on his desk. I looked from one to the other and wondered which would boot up faster.
    “Place looks perfect,” I said. “You must have been here two hours already.”
    She raised the toilet seat and squirted cleanser under the rim. “Almost done. Finish here, sweep floors. Then, next house.”
    I returned to the kitchen. When a vacuum cleaner started in the master bedroom, I unlocked a living room window. I wanted to come back when Teresa was gone and search Kosh’s computers.
    I could only hope that the fact I’d seen no sign of an alarm meant there wasn’t one installed.
You’re an idiot, Emily. Let’s just hope you’re a lucky one.

Chapter Twenty-eight
    Teresa pushed and pulled the vacuum down the hall, where it sucked up perfumed powder she’d sprinkled on the floor. Gesturing at my watch, I signaled I was giving up on my fake meeting with Kosh and waved goodbye.
    Hidden in the carport’s shower stall, I waited next to His and Her flip-flops and beach towels until Teresa’s ride came at quarter