Nightingale

by Jennifer Estep

  I sighed. I’d been dreaming when I thought it would be this easy. That we could just read the information on the drive, find out who Tycoon was, and anonymously give the information to Talon and the police.

  Maybe I should just tell Talon who I was. Maybe I should take a chance he was really the great guy he seemed to be. Maybe I should do a lot of things. I wrinkled my nose. Like take a shower. I smelled like sleeping gas and dried blood, and Rascal’s tongue bath hadn’t helped. Plus, the warm water would help soothe the aches and pains I’d gotten from my adventures last night.

  Piper tapped her fingers against her lip. “But I might know someone who could open it for us. Or rather, Fiona does.”

  “Fiona? What does Fiona know about computers?”

  The only things Fiona seemingly cared about were her clothes, food, and her fiancé, Johnny Bulluci. That was all she’d talked about a few weeks ago when she’d come in to discuss plans for her engagement party and upcoming wedding.

  “Not much,” Piper said. “Although she can break plenty of them. The woman’s stronger than she looks. I asked her to unplug a cord for me, and she ripped it right out of the wall—along with the outlet. But Fiona has a friend, Lulu something. She came in the last time our system went down. Our tech guy worked on the problem for two hours and got nowhere, but she had it up and running in ten minutes. It was amazing, especially when Lulu told Fiona the whole system was a piece of junk—and Fiona didn’t throw her out of the store.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Fiona didn’t let her have it?”

  Piper shook her head. “Nope. She just let Lulu talk to her like that. I couldn’t believe it either.”

  Fiona never let anyone get the best of her. If you pissed her off, she let you know about it—in a hurry.

  “Can you call Fiona and get Lulu’s number?”

  Piper glanced at her Swifte clock. “Are you kidding? It’s not even eight yet. Fiona is not a morning person. She usually doesn’t roll into the office until after ten. Even then, I normally don’t speak to her until lunchtime. At least, not without food in hand.”

  I tapped my fingers against my knee, more than a little impatient. I wanted to know what was on the flash drive—right now. But calling Fiona and bugging her wouldn’t do any good. I knew from past experience that the fashion designer did things when she wanted to. Like Kyle Quicke, she had a remarkable ability to tune me out.

  “It’s just as well,” I said. “We need to go by my loft first anyway. I want to see how much damage Bandit did.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I took a shower, threw on some clothes I kept at Piper’s, and went over to my building.

  Bandit had been telling the truth when he said he’d ransacked my loft. Actually, ransacked wasn’t the right word. Decimated was more like it.

  Standing in the doorway staring at the mess, I was shocked and horrified. Bandit had ripped the furniture to pieces. Drawers had been yanked out of my desk; their contents upended on the floor. He apparently put his fist through all of them, searching for secret compartments. The couch cushions had been shredded. Down feathers and cotton stuffing covered the floor like soft piles of snow. The light fixtures had been ripped out of their sockets and smashed, and the floorboards pried up. He’d pulled the doors off my closet and rummaged through my clothes and shoes. Several of my vests lay crumpled on the floor, the khaki fabric crisscrossed with cuts where he’d slashed into them, trying to see what was inside.

  Bandit had even dug into the boxes I hadn’t unpacked, dumping their contents on the floor. Books, papers, dishes, towels. It was a broken, jumbled mess—one Rascal found to be the perfect playground. The puppy grabbed one of my socks and wrestled with it while Piper stood aghast in the middle of the destroyed loft.

  I’d sunk almost all of my money into the loft, to have a soundproof oasis shutting out the rest of the world, but Bandit had destroyed my peace, ripped it away from me. I felt sick and violated.

  The worst thing was what the ubervillain had done to my music collection. Bandit had tipped over my entertainment center, spilling CDs across the floor. He’d opened every case; I guess to check and make sure they held what they were supposed to and that I hadn’t copied the flash drive onto one of them.

  Then the bastard had broken the discs—every single one.

  All my rock music. My jazz collection. The pop tunes, the disco beats, the classical arrangements. All gone. He’d even smashed my laptop and iPod and the albums I’d collected over the years. The bastard.

  “Well, look at the bright side,” Piper said, her voice far too cheery for my liking. “Bandit did your unpacking for you.”

  “Yeah, great,” I muttered and kicked a cracked CD case with my boot.

  “He actually did you a favor dumping everything out in the open like this. It’s no problem. We can have this place clean in a few hours. Sparkling. Spick-and-span. It’ll be fun!” Piper chirped.

  I gave her a sour look. Neat freak didn’t begin to describe the depths of Piper’s depravity. She organized her underwear by size, color, and frequency of use.

  I, on the other hand, had better things to do, like find out what was on Talon’s flash drive and finish planning the event for his alter ego, Wesley Weston. I whipped out my cell phone and called Chloe.

  “Hey, Abby,” Chloe said.

  “How did the party end last night?”

  “Everything went fine,” she said. “There were a few incidents, but I handled them all.”

  I gripped the phone tighter. “Incidents? What sort of incidents?”

  “Well, Fiera started juggling fireballs and accidentally toasted the banner strung up in the jail. But Chief Newman grabbed the fire extinguisher and put it out before it spread, almost like he knew she was going to light it up. Peter Potter got sloshed and had a few words with Octavia, but I broke it up before it got too out of hand, stuffed him in a limo, and sent him home. A few people started saying catty things about Berkley, complaining his name was on everything in the city. Joanne didn’t like that. I thought she was going to leap onto one woman and punch her, but this tall guy with an earring pulled her away before too many feelings were hurt.”

  Out-of-control superheroes. Drunken businessmen. Catfights. Pretty typical stuff. “I’m sure you did just fine.”

  “Where are you?” Chloe asked. “It’s after nine. You didn’t call and tell me you were going to be late. I was getting worried.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I hadn’t been at the office by nine, but I figured I’d earned a break after almost getting killed last night. “I’ve had a bit of a situation.”

  I told Chloe I’d spent the night at Piper’s, and someone had broken into my apartment and made the biggest mess ever. I asked if she could call Clean Dreams and have them send over a crew to help get things straightened up and to haul away what couldn’t be salvaged. Chloe agreed to phone them, and we hung up.

  Piper was reluctant to leave the cleaning to someone else, but I told her we had a fashion designer to bribe—and a flash drive to decrypt. I grabbed the few clean, undamaged clothes I could find and the two vests that had survived Bandit’s rampage. Then, I dropped to my knees and sorted through the broken CDs on the floor, trying to find one that wasn’t snapped in two.

  Nothing. I sat back on my heels and blew out a breath. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and my gaze landed on my CD changer. Maybe he hadn’t thought to look in there. I scooted forward and hit the button. The drawer slid open, revealing another broken disc. Okay, maybe he hadn’t thought to check if there were any more discs. I pushed the button again.

  The changer revolved, and a single, intact disc appeared—John Denver’s greatest hits. The CD I’d played at Talon’s request. A wave of longing hit me. If only I could rewind time to that one perfect moment.

  “Are you ready, Abby?” Piper called out from the doorway.

  “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  I slipped the CD in my coat pocket, and we left.

&nb
sp; #

  By the time we got to Piper’s office at Fiona Fine Fashions, it was after ten. We went through the front of the store. Racks of designer dresses crowded into the white space, each one more brightly colored and boldly embellished than the last. Classical music trilled in the background, while models flounced up and down a catwalk, showing off a variety of wedding gowns. Piper moved off to talk to one of the clerks at the front desk. I stood off to the side.

  A group of women perched in overstuffed chairs at the end of the catwalk, sipping champagne and eating gourmet chocolates. Octavia and Olivia O’Hara were among them, along with Paul Potter. I waved at Olivia. She smiled, waved back, and started to get up. Then, her eyes fell on Rascal. Olivia froze, half in, half out of her chair. Paul’s gaze slid over to me, and he frowned. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a happy expression on his face, not even during the engagement party.

  Octavia also turned her head at her sister’s movement. Spotting me, Octavia’s mouth flattened into a hard line. Not the most pleasant of expressions.

  Paul leaned over and whispered something to Octavia. She nodded and put her hand on Olivia’s arm, pushing her sister back down in her chair. Octavia got to her feet and walked over to me. Today, she wore a dark green suit with round, white buttons.

  “Abby.”

  “Hi, Octavia. Is Olivia shopping for wedding dresses already?”

  “Yes. She and Paul are so in love, they plan to get married on Valentine’s Day.”

  That was less than a month away. “Well, give me a call, and we’ll set up a time to talk about the ceremony.”

  A dark emotion flashed in Octavia’s eyes. “We’re going to let Katie Connors plan the wedding.”

  “Katie Connors?” I said in disbelief. “You’re going to trust your sister’s wedding to Katie Connors? You know, she can barely plan a kid’s birthday party and have it turn out well.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” Octavia said, her voice cool.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why? Did she offer you a better price?”

  “No. We’ve just decided to go in a different direction.”

  “But why? You liked what I did for the engagement party, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” Octavia said. “But it’s come to my attention you’re planning an event for Wesley Weston, where he’ll announce his acquisition of Gelled. I don’t appreciate people who stab me in the back, Abby. In under a week, no less. You will not be planning anything else for me—ever again.”

  Octavia turned on her stiletto and stalked to her chair. Paul stared at his nails, like he could manicure them with his eyes. Olivia gave me a weak smile and returned her gaze to the models, as though ivory lace was the most interesting thing in the world.

  “What was that about?” Piper asked, coming to stand beside me.

  I shook my head. “Just what I thought would happen. Octavia found out about the Weston party and banned me from planning any more of her events.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  I shrugged. The loss of a customer didn’t bother me as much as usual. Maybe it was because it was Octavia, the woman who had dated Wesley and sneered at Rascal.

  We walked on. Piper punched in a code on a door, and we stepped into the back of the building. Workers huddled at stations, sewing sequins, feathers, glass beads, and more on clothing, handbags, and other accessories. Piper stopped to chat with some folks before heading to her office.

  We also got waylaid by more than a few people who just had to tell me what a cute puppy Rascal was. Rascal, of course, was more than happy to prance around and strut his stuff. I eyed the puppy. Maybe Tycoon’s radioactive drugs had made him supercute. That was the only explanation I could come up with for the way people reacted to the corgi—everyone except Octavia.

  We reached Piper’s office. It was just as neat as her apartment, with everything sorted by size, color, and height. Only a couple of Swifte sticky pads broke up the sterile, professional space. Piper kept her superhero obsession and massive collection of fangirl items mostly at home.

  “Piper! There you are!”

  Fiona Fine struck a pose in the doorway. The fashion designer was known throughout Bigtime for her outrageous designs, and today was no different. Fiona wore a crimson miniskirt paired with a top covered with black and white geometric patterns. Red go-go boots crawled up to her knees, while matching, white, plastic hoop earrings dangled from her ears. On anyone else, the outfit would have looked ridiculous, but Fiona pulled it off—with plenty of style to spare.

  “I was starting to worry,” she said. “It’s not like you to be late.”

  “I had to help Abby with something,” Piper said in a breezy tone.

  Fiona sniffed and tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “Well, you should have called.”

  “But if I’d called I wouldn’t have had time to get these.”

  Piper held out a paper bag full of cream cheese-filled doughnuts. She’d insisted we stop by Bryn’s Bakery on the way here, even though it made us ten minutes later. She’d wanted to bring Fiona a bribe to help smooth things over.

  “Is that a problem?” Piper asked. “If you don’t want any, I’m sure Abby and I can take care of them—”

  No!” Fiona said, snatching the bag out of Piper’s hands and digging into it with the enthusiasm of a true sugar addict. “Not when you bring me doughnuts to make up for it.”

  Piper gave me a smug, knowing look, before scooting around her desk and flipping on her computer. I leaned against one of the file cabinets and watched Fiona shove a doughnut in her mouth, and then proceed to eat the other dozen in under three minutes—without asking us if we wanted a single one. Rascal yipped in protest, but Fiona ignored him, too intent on her food to notice the puppy.

  “Actually, I was hoping you could help us with something,” Piper said.

  “What?” Fiona mumbled through a mouthful of cream cheese.

  “Abby’s been having some computer problems. I was wondering if you could give me the number for your friend, Lulu. I remembered how she fixed our computers a couple of months ago. I was wondering if she might help Abby.”

  It might have been my imagination, but Fiona’s blue eyes seemed to sharpen at Piper’s words. It was sort of hard to tell when she was stuffing food into her mouth at the speed of light.

  Fiona swallowed the last doughnut, then licked a few crumbs off her fingers. “What do you need Lulu’s help with?”

  Piper opened her mouth, but I cut her off. I didn’t want her to get into trouble with Fiona over this. I pulled Talon’s flash drive out of my pocket and showed it to the fashion designer. “I put some files on here and used the password protection feature. Now, I can’t get to them. I don’t know what’s wrong with the drive, and I need the files. They’re for an event I’m planning.”

  “The Wesley Weston party?” Fiona asked.

  I nodded. That lie was just as good as any other.

  “I got my invitation this morning. Johnny did too. We’ll be there. So I suppose I should help you make it as fabulous as possible,” Fiona said. “Let me see if I can find Lulu’s cell phone number.”

  She sashayed next door to her office. I followed her, with Piper behind me.

  Where Piper’s desk was neat-freak clean, Fiona’s was a slob’s paradise with crumpled papers, uncapped pens, half-used legal pads, crushed soda cans, and empty takeout containers. Fiona hunted through the haphazard mess on her desk, while Piper paced back and forth outside the door, growing more and more agitated. Fiona’s lack of proper desk maintenance aggravated Piper to no end.

  “If Lulu’s your friend, shouldn’t you have her number in your cell phone?” I asked, trying to speed the process along. “That’s where I keep my important contacts.”

  “I did, but my phone got fried last night,” Fiona said.

  “That happens quite a bit to you, doesn’t it?” Piper asked. “If something’s not getting overheated, it’s snapping in two.”

  Fiona put her
hands on her hips. “Yeah, it does. Now, do you want Lulu’s number or not?”

  I looked at Piper. She shrugged, and we both shut up.

  “I know I have it here somewhere,” Fiona muttered, shoving a pile of papers off the desk. They hit the reams already carpeting the floor.

  Piper closed her eyes and let out a whimper. She looked like she was going to faint.

  Fiona wasn’t making much progress, so Piper decided to motivate her. She went into her office and brought back another bag she’d gotten at the bakery. Thick, round bagels bulged out of the top of the sack.

  “Are those bagels?” Fiona asked, her eyes brightening.

  “Blueberry, your favorite,” Piper said. “With extra cream cheese.”

  Fiona leapt into action then, shoving just about everything on her desk off into the floor as she searched for Lulu’s number. Unable to watch the trash piles multiply exponentially, Piper handed me the bag of bagels and went back to her office.

  “A-ha!” Fiona cried, holding up a wrinkled business card. “Here it is!”

  She handed me the card, and I gave her the bagels. Fiona tore into the bag before I turned to leave. Rascal wandered over to the fashion designer in hopes of scoring a treat. His tail thumped against her boots as he stared at the bag, as if it would magically split in two and shower him with bagels.

  Fiona eyed him. “Sorry, dog. No thumbs, no bagels.”

  “Come on, Rascal,” I said. “You had plenty of puppy chow this morning.”

  Rascal let out a pitiful whine, but I picked him up and carried him back to Piper’s office, making sure the door shut behind me.

  “I can’t believe she eats like that!” I whispered to Piper.

  She shrugged. “You get used to it after a while. Although I need to get some more pamphlets about that eating disorder clinic for her. I think if Fiona would just admit she has a problem, that would go a long way toward solving it.”

  Rascal barked his agreement.

  #

  Piper called Fiona’s friend, Lulu Lo, and told her about my problem. Lulu agreed to meet us at lunchtime at the coffee bar in the Bigtime Public Library. We dropped Rascal off at my office with Chloe and headed over to the library.