“I should take this,” I said. “It’ll only be a minute.”
The other two averted their eyes politely, Rachel back to her screen and Zachary down to Edwina.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “How are you?”
“Gina.” Greg’s voice was warm. “I’m fine, but I’m more concerned about you. I’ve been thinking about last night all day. The paint, the vandalism—are you okay? Did the police come out?”
“They did,” I said, which was technically true. Mendoza had been there, even if it was just him and not an entire CSI team. “They took photos, asked questions, the usual. They’re making inquiries.”
That last part was a stretch. I doubted Mendoza was prioritizing red paint over an undercover operation with a murder investigation attached, but it sounded reassuring, and I didn’t want Greg to worry more than he already was. Besides, Mendoza probably did think about me on and off. At least I hoped he did.
“Good. That’s good.” He paused. “Listen, I know this has been a rough couple of days for you. Why don’t I take you out to dinner again tonight? Nothing fancy, just someplace quiet where you can relax and not think about murders and vandalism and the mob for a few hours.”
I hesitated. Two nights in a row felt like too much, like I was leading him on when I still hadn’t sorted out my own feelings. And more than that, I was rattled from the afternoon at Sal’s—the dogs, the guns, the mad dash back to safety. The last thing I wanted was to sit across from Greg and try to act normal while avoiding any mention of my illegal trespassing.
“That’s really sweet of you,” I said carefully, “but I think I’d like a quiet night at home. It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty exhausted.”
“Of course. I understand.” His voice was considerate, without a hint of disappointment. “How about I call you tomorrow instead? We can figure out a better time.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you, Greg. For checking on me, and for understanding.”
“Anytime, Gina. Get some rest. And lock your doors.”
“Always,” I said, and ended the call.
When I looked up, Rachel and Zachary were both watching me with knowing expressions.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing,” Rachel said, too innocently.
Zachary just grinned.
I rolled my eyes and sat back down at my desk. “All right. Where were we?”
Chapter Eighteen
“So that’s the infamous paint job,” Rachel said as we met in front of the house in Hillwood after work.
We had knocked off a bit early—there was nothing else to do; I couldn’t go back to the Body Shop, nor could Zach, and staking out Sal’s house was out of the question. There was nowhere to park on Nick’s street, and I didn’t feel like sitting on Elliston Place staring up at Jacquie’s windows. What good would it do?
Daniel was busy, and Rachel was free for the evening, so I invited her back to the house for food and conversation—about anything but the case. I had invited Zachary too, but he had plans, he’d said, with an expression that was part triumphant and part embarrassed.
I gathered the bag of cheese and crackers from the back of the Lexus while Edwina made a beeline to the grass to relieve herself. “That’s it.”
Rachel grabbed the wine bottles—two of them, because it had been that kind of day—and wandered over for a closer look at the door.
“Let’s just go through the kitchen,” I added. “That’s what I did this morning.”
I dug my keychain out of my bag and closed the hatch on the Lexus remotely.
“I can see why,” Rachel nodded. She tilted her head. “It doesn’t look too bad right now, but I can imagine what it must have been like, coming back here in the dark and seeing it all wet and glistening.”
I fought back a shiver, and Rachel added, as she stepped back and turned to follow me. “What are you going to do about it?”
“The door?” I led the way around the side of the house toward the kitchen door while Edwina scampered in front. “I’m not painting it red, if that’s what you’re asking. But I also don’t think the wood can be salvaged, so I’ll probably have to paint it some color or other. Most likely black. Try to cover up the red.”
Rachel nodded. “Probably the best thing to do. Might do you good to sell the place, too.”
