Fired Up
She paused delicately. “Are you by any chance taking some kind of sleeping medication?”
His ascetic features hardened. “I started using the meds after I woke up in that alley. Got them from my doctor. I told him I was having some problems sleeping. They seem to work. They knock me out. I haven’t had any sleepwalking episodes since I began taking them.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth, making a tut-tutting sound.
“You must realize that any kind of strong psychotropic medication can be problematic for a strong talent like you.”
“It’s not like I had a lot of choice, Chloe.”
“The meds may knock you out, as you say, but it’s obvious that you are not sleeping properly. You aren’t getting the deep rest that you need and that your psychic senses require. The result is that you’re walking around on the verge of exhaustion.”
Cold amusement flickered in his expression. “Do I look like I’m about to fall asleep?”
“No, but that’s because you’re using a low level of psi to overcome the effects of sleep deprivation. That trick will work for a while, but eventually it’s all going to catch up with you. Sooner or later you’re going to crash, and when you do, you’ll crash hard.”
“I’ll worry about getting some sleep after you find my lamp.”
She sighed. “Why is it that no one ever takes my good advice when I have so much of it to give? That’s why I became a private investigator instead of a dream therapist, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“When I was younger I planned to get a degree in psychology and go into dream therapy work. But I found out soon enough that it would be terribly frustrating. Oh, sure, people are willing to pay for good advice, but they won’t follow it.”
“I hope you’re a better PI than you are a therapist.”
That hurt, but she refused to let it show. She straightened a little and picked up the pen again. “I told you, I’m good at what I do. Give me your contact information. I’ve got another case that I’ll be winding up tonight, but I’ll start the search for your lamp immediately. I’ll be in touch within a couple of days.”
“You sound very confident.”
“Are you kidding?” She gave what she hoped was a ladylike sniff. “A paranormal artifact created by the alchemist Nicholas Winters? If I can’t locate it within forty- eight hours or find out what happened to it, I’ll go back to school and get that degree in psychology.”
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6
AT SEVEN O’CLOCK THAT EVENING ROSE STALKED INTO THE office, a pizza box in her hands. Raindrops glittered like ebony diamonds on her long, black raincoat. Rose always stalked rather than walked. Chloe thought it probably had something to do with the two-inch platform soles of the steel-buckled, black leather boots she wore.
“Dinner time,” Rose declared. “You’ve been at that computer or on the phone ever since Mr. Winters left. All you’ve had is a few cups of tea. Got to keep up your energy, boss.”
“Thanks.” Chloe studied the e-mail that had just arrived in her in-box. “I am feeling a little hungry, now that I think about it.”
Hector trotted across the room to greet Rose. He sat down directly in front of her, blocking her path, and gazed at the pizza box with an expression that, in a human, would have indicated that the carton contained a winning lottery ticket.
“Don’t worry—there’s enough for three,” Rose told him. She set the box on Chloe’s desk and took off her raincoat. “How’s the investigation going?”
“Let’s just say it’s been interesting.” Chloe swiveled around in her chair. “And getting more interesting by the minute.”
Rose hung up the raincoat and sat down in the client chair. “Find the lamp yet?”
“I think so. Got a solid lead on it hours ago from Aunt Beatrice.”
“Your relative who runs that antiques shop in Los Angeles? The one that specializes in old movie star memorabilia?”
“Right.”
Beatrice Harper did a thriving business in original movie posters signed by famous stars, rare film footage, and other artifacts associated with Hollywood’s golden era. From long-lost outtakes of Marlene Dietrich, Cary Grant or Joan Crawford to one-of-a-kind Art Deco cigarette lighters guaranteed to have been used by Humphrey Bogart, Beatrice could find it for you.
Mostly Beatrice found such valuables in a certain workshop located in Redondo Beach. The shop was operated by Clive and Evelyn Harper.
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