by Shawna Seed
Was it her imagination, or was Julien a little slow sliding the computer over?
Unfortunately, Genevieve couldn’t type fast enough to derail D.
D: You didn’t mention HOT SEX SCENE with him and princess girl they captured
Gen: Stop. Not a good time
D: WHY HAVE YOU NOT GIVEN ME THIS DVD FOR XMAS? BDAY? FRICKIN LABOR DAY? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND
Genevieve began to blush. Julien laughed out loud.
Gen: Ppl looking at my screen, not a good time
D: Also right re YCLI and older brother actor
D: too bad he dies early
D: and keeps CLOTHES ON
D: oh, whos looking at your screen?
Gen: explain later
D: K, bye call me
Genevieve closed the chat window and buried her face in her hands. At least D had used the shorthand YCLI – your current love (or lust) interest – rather than Julien’s name.
“Sorry about that,” she said, sliding the computer back toward Julien.
“Don’t be,” he said. “That’s pretty much the highlight of my day so far.”
Genevieve wasn’t sure what she expected from a security consultant, but it wasn’t this.
The man in her courtyard looked like a salesman on a golf outing – medium height, medium build. He had black hair, cut very short, shot through with gray. He wore khakis, a polo shirt and a windbreaker.
“Melvin Dixon,” he said, offering his hand. Genevieve showed him inside.
Melvin motioned her toward the sofa. “Why don’t you sit.” It wasn’t really a question.
Genevieve complied, and Julien took a seat next to her. Melvin grabbed one of the bar stools. He put it in the middle of the room, facing them.
“So, you’re working for Mr. Lazare, and you received a couple anonymous emails, and then this morning found your car vandalized and a dead fish inside?”
Genevieve nodded.
“Have you called the police?”
“No. I’m sorry. My cat got out, and then...”
Melvin pulled a notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket. “It’s fine. Good, actually. Something like this – basically vandalism – LAPD isn’t going to want to f… um, mess with it. Best to handle this kind of thing off the books. Trust me, I know. I spent 20 years on the force.”
Somehow, she didn’t think conserving police resources was his primary concern.
“Walk me through the whole thing,” he said, and so she did, starting with the first email.
She didn’t think this was much help, but Melvin was taking lots of notes. “How about cars you didn’t recognize parked nearby lately, anything unusual on the street?”
Genevieve closed her eyes, trying to recall. “Nothing. Well, the lights for the driveway are off, but that’s not unusual. The tenant in the front house keeps messing them up. I’ve called the landlord.”
“Call him again,” Melvin said. “Now, you have no idea what time this happened? You didn’t hear anything?”
Genevieve shook her head.
“No alarm on the car?”
“It didn’t seem worth it to get it fixed,” Genevieve said. “The car’s got 200,000 miles on it.”
Melvin stood. “I’ll want to take a look at the computer, but let’s go outside now.”
The three of them walked out, and Melvin spent a few minutes circling the Camry taking photos while Julien and Genevieve leaned against the courtyard wall.
“Your cousin has this guy on the payroll?”
Julien shrugged. “Some divorces get really ugly, I guess.”
When he was done with his photos, they trooped back into the apartment. Julien and Genevieve sat on the sofa again. Melvin resumed his spot on the bar stool.
“How many people are aware of your work for Mr. Lazare?”
Genevieve thought about that. “My father in Wichita Falls, and my best friend in Dallas. My godmother in Chicago found out this morning, but after the window was broken.”
Melvin didn’t bother to write any of that down. “Anyone here in Los Angeles?”
“We’ve been to the Getty library twice for research. Someone there might have had their curiosity piqued. Oh!” She turned to Julien. “Remember that librarian yesterday? He kept trying to get me to tell him what I was working on.”
“I don’t think that guy had anything to do with this,” Julien said.
“But he kept looking at me.”
Julien caught Melvin’s eye and gave a little shake of his head.
“Honestly, I think he was just checking you out, Genevieve. He seemed harmless,” Julien said.
Melvin seemed to accept Julien’s assessment. “So there’s no one else in LA who knows about this?”
“Oh, my friend Thomas,” Genevieve said. “Duh.”
Melvin pulled out his notebook. “And who is this Thomas?”
“He works at the Hilliard, and...”
Julien interrupted her. “Is that the guy on the phone yesterday? Seemed like that call got kind of heated. Didn’t he tell you that you were being paranoid?”
Suddenly Genevieve realized how this must look to Melvin.
“Thomas had nothing to do with this, he...”
Julien glanced at the bruise on the top of her forearm. Genevieve covered it with her other hand.
“He’s a very good friend. Run any background check you want. Do you need his full name and address?”
Melvin took down the information. “Who else at the museum should we be looking at?”
“This is not how museum people operate,” Genevieve said. “They’re snotty about people’s credentials and gossip about their research methods. They don’t leave dead fish in cars. We’ve stumbled into something else. I just don’t know what.”
Melvin chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen. “Any chance this is directed at you, and your work is a red herring? Do you have an ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, current boyfriend, anybody like that you might have mentioned this project to? No shame if you do – lots of women have an asshole ex-boyfriend.”
Genevieve’s temper flared. “Yes, I have an asshole ex-boyfriend. But I haven’t talked to him in six years.”
“OK, OK. I had to ask.” Melvin closed the notebook. “That just leaves the computer.”
He walked over to the bar. To Genevieve’s surprise, he unplugged the computer and began wrapping up the cord.
“Um, what are you doing?”
Melvin kept his back to her. “I’m going to have to take this for a few days to do some forensics on it. We’ll get it back to you just as soon as we can.”
Genevieve shot Julien a look. He seemed just as surprised as she was.
“Like hell you are!”
At that, Melvin turned around.
“All my financial information is on there, I need it for my work, and... well, I don’t think you have any right to take it,” Genevieve said.
Melvin exchanged a look with Julien. “I’m going to have to discuss this with Mr. Lazare,” he said.
“Discuss all you want,” Genevieve said. “My computer stays here.”
Julien cocked his head toward the door. “Melvin, could I have a word?”
Melvin followed Julien out into the courtyard. Genevieve pointedly locked the door behind them. Then she took her computer into the bedroom, where she inched open a window to eavesdrop.
“...but knows about those characters? The MO doesn’t add up,” Melvin said.
“But why would she?” Julien said.
Why would she what, Genevieve wondered.
Melvin was speaking again. “The boss says...” Genevieve strained to hear as they moved away from the courtyard. “Just be objective...” They were too far away; she could no longer hear them. Frustrated, she waited.
After about 10 minutes, she heard one set of footsteps coming back toward her apartment, then a knock on her door.
She buried her laptop in her underwear drawer and went to the living room.
“Melvin left. It’s just me,” Julien said.
Genevieve thought for a moment, then grabbed her keys and slipped out into the courtyard, locking the door behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” Julien said.
“I’m not letting that guy take my computer.”
“No, I told Henry that,” he said. “I have copies of the emails – that’s all they need. That was bullshit. So, here’s the peace offering: a guy is coming to sweep up the glass, fix the window and detail the car, courtesy of Henry. Melvin already bagged the fish and took it with him. While the mess gets cleaned up, why don’t I take you out to lunch?”
Genevieve gestured toward her outfit. “I’m not really dressed for it.”
“I know tons of great dives where you’ll fit in just fine,” Julien said.
Genevieve considered his offer. “Hang on,” she said.
She went back inside, and returned a few minutes later with her laptop in her bag.
They went for Korean barbecue. Julien noted the laptop bag, which she took into the restaurant, but he didn’t say anything.
“So here’s something I’m wondering about,” Julien said as he dug into his food. “We know this guy, whoever he is, can’t spell. But does he know his literary references? The email addresses he’s using – do Tristan and Iseult both die?”
“Depends,” Genevieve said. “It’s one of those medieval tales with a bunch of variations. The one constant is that they’re eternally in love – in some versions they’re under a spell, in other versions they mistakenly drink a potion. But they can’t be together, because she has to marry his uncle, the king. I think Tristan always dies, but not Iseult. She does in the opera, though.”
“No version where they live happily ever after?”
Genevieve shook her head. “No.”
She hadn’t had breakfast, but Genevieve found that she wasn’t hungry. She felt overwhelmed and confused, and more than anything, she wanted quiet and time to process what was going on.
Julien noticed that she wasn’t eating. “Don’t like it?”
Genevieve shrugged and pushed her plate away. “It’s good. I’m not hungry.”
Julien finished his lunch and carefully wiped his hands on his napkin.
“I’m on your side, you know that, right? You seemed to have it under control, but for the record, I wasn’t going to let Melvin walk out of there with your laptop.”
“Thanks.”
“Henry swears he didn’t tell him to do that. Just cop instincts, I guess,” Julien said.
Genevieve managed a smile. “Thank you for making sure my window got fixed and the mess cleaned up. I know that’s you, not him.”
“Least we could do.”
The waiter approached with drink refills, but Julien warned him away with a subtle shake of his head.
“Look, Genevieve, I don’t know you very well, obviously,” he said. He glanced away. “Although sometimes it seems like I do, weirdly... Anyway.”
He took a deep breath and continued. “It seems like maybe you have a lot going on in your life right now.” His eyes slid to the bruise on her arm.
Genevieve reflexively covered it with her hand. “I know you’re worried I’m dating some abusive jerk, but I’m not. I’m not dating anyone.”
That last part was unnecessary. So why had she mentioned it?
Julien waited. Perhaps for an explanation of the bruise on her arm? Genevieve didn’t have one that made sense.
Seeing that none was forthcoming, Julien continued.
“Even when you land another gig right away, a layoff is stressful, and it’s OK if you need to take some time to catch your breath. I think I told you earlier, I had breakfast with Henry this morning. One of those annoying power breakfasts, on his turf.”
That would explain Julien’s switch from his usual casual look.
“I told him we’re at a point where we just have to let some inquiries play out. If it makes you feel any better, the whole Luca Brasi thing this morning with your car convinced him you’re on the right track.”
Genevieve frowned. “The whole what with my car?”
“The dead fish? Luca Brasi? The Godfather? No? I guess gangster movies aren’t your thing. More swords and sandals?”
He gave her a sly grin, then turned serious. “I mean, if someone’s warning you away, you must be on to something, right?”
“I guess,” Genevieve said. “I just wish I knew what.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A lot of what Julien said made sense. She was under a lot of stress. Maybe she needed to take a step back.
Or maybe she needed to push forward.
Genevieve opted to push forward. Did her mother’s notebooks from college survive? What was in them? She knew only one way to find out.
She started pricing tickets to Texas.
The cheapest last-minute deal was more than $900. She gulped, put it on 24-hour hold, and called D to make sure she could handle a houseguest.
“Gen! Who was looking at your computer?”
“Julien,” Genevieve said.
“Ooopsie,” D said. “Good thing I used the secret code!”
“Yeah, D, you really need to be careful with the IM thing. So, I need a favor,” Genevieve said.
“Name it. It’s yours.”
“There’s some stuff stored at my dad’s house I need for a research project. I have a week or so off in this thing I’m doing for Julien, so now’s a good time. Can I stay at your house on the way there and back? It would probably be...”
To her relief, D interrupted. “Gen, you can stay at my house for as long as you want, any time you want. You know that. And please don’t tell me you bought a really expensive last-minute ticket when I’m up to my ears in flight coupons I can’t use because I don’t have a frickin’ boyfriend to go anywhere with.”
Once D had booked the flights, Genevieve emailed Julien to say she’d be out of town for a few days. She told him she’d continue to work on the issue of researching French wills.
She talked to Thomas, who agreed to feed Mona and promised he’d guard the door with his life. Genevieve could only hope the cat’s outdoor adventure had taught her a lesson.
Thomas told her he’d dropped off the heart pendant with his friend who would give an expert opinion on its age and origin. She forwarded him the photos of the Lazare brides and asked for a ruling on whether it was the same piece.
She waited until evening to call her father. After the initial exchange of how-are-yous? and I’m-fines, she got to the point.
He was happy that she was coming, surprised by the timing.
“Is everything OK, Genny?”
She had debated how to broach the topic of her mother’s belongings. She’d even made notes before she dialed.
“Christine sent me a book from their school, and it made me wonder about Mom’s time at college. Christine thought you might have some of her things still?”
Her father seemed taken aback. He was silent a moment, then cleared his throat. “Anything of hers is in the cedar chest – I thought you knew that. Of course you’re welcome to go through it.”
This was the answer Genevieve had been looking for, so why did it fill her with such dread?
“I’ll stay with D tomorrow and be at the house around lunchtime day after. Is that OK?”
“That’s fine.” He seemed befuddled. “But what’s the rush? Why do you want to look now?”
Genevieve was ready for this question. “Oh, Christine got me curious, and I have a break in my schedule now. I don’t know when I’ll get an opening again.”
She wasn’t telling the whole truth, and she felt bad about that. But she rationalized that telling her father everything would just worry him.
After the requisite plane change in Albuquerque, Genevieve arrived in Dallas just after 6 p.m. She picked up a car
and eased into the rush hour traffic, headed for D’s house in the northern suburbs.
When Genevieve was growing up, she and her father had gone to Dallas every year for the State Fair. Back then, Dallas seemed crowded and terrifying. Life in LA had altered her perspective. The traffic seemed light and the city full of wide-open spaces. She passed block after block of big-box retail and parking lots that seemed to go on for miles.
D’s street was lined with two-story brick houses, each fronted by a patch of lawn and a spindly tree. The homes reminded Genevieve of women she saw in some LA neighborhoods, who all went to the same hairdresser and tanning salon and boutiques – slight variations on the same theme.
She parked and was hefting her suitcase when D came flying out of the front door. She was still in her work clothes – chic black pantsuit and four-inch heels. Genevieve didn’t know how anyone could walk in those, let alone run.
D wrapped her in a tight hug.
“I am SO glad to see you! I’m taking you out for Tex-Mex and margaritas! I’m going to get you drunk and make you tell me everything.”
Genevieve told D a lot over dinner, but not everything. In fact, she restricted herself to one margarita so that she wouldn’t be tempted to talk about the strangest things in her life.
Back at the house after dinner, D decided that Genevieve needed to raid her closet so that Julien would “get a little variety” the next time he saw her.
“Men like variety,” D pronounced.
Genevieve settled on the bed while D hauled clothes out of a walk-in closet nearly as large as Genevieve’s apartment.
“I don’t know that I’m going to be spending all that much time with him,” Genevieve said. “The next step is to hire a researcher in France, so I’ll mostly be dealing with Julien over the phone. Anyway, how would I get this stuff back to you?”
“Look at this closet! All I do is shop on the off-chance I’ll get a date! I won’t even miss any of this stuff!” D tossed Genevieve a slim black skirt. “I know you have black skirts, but try that. It might be a little tight, but tight isn’t always a bad thing.”