Fired Up

there’s actually an outside chance that someone made a copy of some old lamp and sold it to Drake Stone?”
    “Heaven forbid,” Chloe said.
    Rose’s black brows spiked a couple of times. “I seem to recall someone telling me that faithful copies and exact reproductions of works of art or antiquities are not considered fakes or forgeries.”
    “Except when they’re represented and sold as originals,” Chloe concluded drily. “I know. Hard to believe that could happen. I’m going to need an intro to get to Stone. Aunt Phyllis knows everyone in the show-business world, at least the stars in Drake Stone’s age group. I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning and see if she can help me contact him. Then I’ll make a quick trip to Vegas to check out the lamp. If it’s the real thing I’ll call Mr. Winters and tell him to go ahead with the deal.”
    “I love Vegas. Can I go with you?”
    “No, you cannot,” Chloe said firmly. “You’re my administrative assistant, remember? Your job is to look after things here and take care of Hector. You know he can’t be left alone for long.”
    They both looked at Hector. He thumped his tail once or twice and waited to see if he was going to get any more pizza.
    “Bummer,” Rose said. “I really love Vegas.”
    “I seem to recall that you have a psych test coming up this week,” Chloe said before taking the next bite.
    Rose was in her first year at a local community college. Her goal was to become a partner in Harper Investigations. Chloe assumed that her assistant would change her mind a million times before she found the career she really wanted, but Rose was showing no such uncertainty.
    “Promise me you’ll ask Drake Stone for an autographed picture,” Rose said.
    “I’ll do that.”
    Rose frowned. “Just thought of something. What if Stone doesn’t want to sell the lamp?”
    “I’ll worry about that after I’ve verified that it’s the right lamp. One step at a time, as we in the investigation business like to say.”
    “Mostly what you say is that the client is a pain in the ass.”
    “That, too.”
    “Mr. Winters is different, though, isn’t he?”
    “What makes you say that?”
    Rose studied her with a thoughtful expression. “You think he’s hot. Weird, but hot.”
    “Jack Winters? Hot?” Chloe sputtered on the pizza. She finally managed to swallow. “He’s a client, Rose.”
    “Doesn’t mean he can’t be hot.” Rose grinned. “I saw your face when he left the office. You’re attracted to him, aren’t you? Admit it.”
    “You know Rule Number One here at Harper Investigations.”
    “Never sleep with a client. Sure. But what about when the case is closed?”
    “Rose—”
    “You never looked at Fletcher Monroe the way you looked at Mr. Winters.”
    Chloe narrowed her eyes in warning. “Speaking of Fletcher Monroe.”
    “Right. This is the night, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.” Chloe glanced at her watch. “But not until midnight, at the earliest. I’d better make a pot of coffee.”
    “You don’t like coffee. You drink tea.”
    “I’ll need the caffeine to stay awake. Meanwhile I’ve still got time for a little more research on the Burning Lamp. You want to give me a hand?”
    Rose’s eyes glinted with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. I really love these woo-woo cases.”
    Chloe looked at her. “I haven’t told you anything except that I’m looking for an old lamp. What makes you think this is one of the woo-woo cases?”
    Rose reached for the last slice of pizza. “I always know.”

7
    CHLOE EASED THE CAR TO THE CURB AND TURNED OFF THE engine. She studied the small house through the windshield and felt the hair stir on the nape of her neck.
    The shades and curtains were closed upstairs and down. Only the faint glow of a television screen showed at the edge of the living room window. The rest of the lights were off.
    “That’s not right,” she said to Hector. “All of the lights and the television were supposed to be off by midnight. I swear if Fletcher decided to bring a date back here tonight, I’m off the case. I’m not about to go through all this trouble again.”
    Hector was sitting upright in the passenger seat. He turned his head briefly at the sound of her voice but otherwise showed no great interest in the matter. He was just content to be with her.
    She sat for a while behind the wheel. Most of the other houses on the quiet street in the North Seattle neighborhood were shrouded in darkness, save for the