“You were right,” Nick said, hanging up his desk phone. “Weber sounds like a hungover bear that some drunk camper woke early from hibernation.”
“And when will our drunken bear friend be here?” Riley asked as she disconnected her own call.
“As soon as he finishes puking.” Nick tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Did you get a hold of Brian?”
“Your cousin was not happy about me waking him up this early, but he’s digging into the corporation from the nondisclosure agreements as we speak,” she reported. “What do we do until Kellen gets here?”
They’d secured all doors and windows on the first floor and given Burt a hot dog snack so he would stop pouting. The dog was now snoring like a four-legged lumberjack somewhere on the first floor.
“We find out if we should freeze the finger or put it in the fridge,” Nick said, frowning at his laptop. “Huh. Vegetable crisper. Who knew?”
“Our life is so weird,” she said.
“But never boring. Come on.” He got to his feet and held out a hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Upstairs,” he said, towing her toward the door.
“We’renothaving sex again until after the finger is out of this house and we’ve both showered at least twice.”
“Relax, Thorn. We’re searching Sesame’s room.”
“Oh. Okay. This makes me a little nostalgic for when we searched Dickie’s apartment after…”
“After he got himself murdered and you tackled me down the stairs thinking I was the murderer?”
“Yeah. Good times. Hey. What do you think couples who don’t find dead bodies everywhere talk about?” she wondered as they hit the second floor and peeled off toward Sesame and Tommy’s room.
“I have no idea.”
“Holy crap! What the hell happened in here?” Riley said when Nick opened the door.
The guest room had been what Riley would have termed “habitable” before Sesame and her husband had moved in mere days ago. It’d had a bed—on the small and lumpy side. The faded pink carpet had been worn but not too hideous, and the walls had been papered in a dizzying flower petal pattern that had inexplicably made Nick ragey.
The wallpaper was still there. But the rest of the room was unrecognizable.
“When did she get a king-sized bed? Is this rug real fur?” she asked as she sank ankle-deep into the thick, tangerine-colored area rug.
“It looks like she skinned a Muppet,” Nick grumbled.
There were tall silver lamps on mirrored nightstands that matched the new dresser.
One entire wall had been turned into an open wardrobe with a snazzy closet system that was full of Sesame’s clothes. Tommy’s suitcase was tucked next to the Hollywood-style makeup vanity in the corner.
“How did she do this in two days? It takes me three days just to put a load of laundry away,” Riley noted in wonder.
“Focus, Thorn. We’re looking for anything linked to the finger,” he snapped.
“You mean like a hand?”
Nick was too busy scowling at the wallpaper to be impressed with her wit.
“Stop staring at the walls,” she told him.
“I just hate them so much.”
“Okay. You focus on the floor and the furniture. I’ll start with the wardrobe to the stars,” Riley suggested, only partially because she wanted to try on some of Sesame’s shoes.
