Kazimir
After too many yawns, followed by too many apologies for yawning, Harley padded upstairs to the guest bedroom on the third floor. She’s been through the wringer.
It’s only ten-thirty—way too early for me to sleep. I change into gray sweatpants and a white long-sleeve t-shirt and ready myself to go back down to my office to catch up on the day. I’m sure I have a long list of urgent things that require my attention.
My phone rings.
I snatch the device off the console and accept the video call.
Erik’s face fills the screen.
“Sorry I didn’t call you back. I didn’t respond to your voicemails or texts, because summarizing this day warrants more than just a few lines of reply.”
“Things didn’t go well at Grazie Mille?”
“Everything went according to plan. Étienne Leveaux was arrested before the restaurant opened its doors for the lunch service.”
“Good on you for putting the crook out of commission,” he says. “Were you able to get in touch with Harley? I can’timagine Étienne was agreeable to divulge that kind of information once the police had him in cuffs.”
“With the help of the owner, I got in touch with her.”
“How is she doing? Did she find another job?”
“She didn’t. And this day rail-rolled her. But now that she moved in with me, it alleviates some of the stress she’s been under.”
Erik tilts his head to the side. “Come again? Harley Lancaster moved in with you? Why?”
I fill him on today’s tumultuous events.
He rubs a hand over his face. “Holy shit. That’s insane.”
“Thank God I had the PI team I hired to dig dirt into Étienne still on retainer. Harley gave me her keys and I was able to let them into her apartment so they could take photos of every inch of the dump she lived in.”
“What does the landlord have to say?”
“She’s still waiting for a call back from him.”
“Damn, I hope he’s not giving her the runaround.”
“Maybe he was inundated with calls from freaked out tenants of his dilapidated apartment building.”
Erik squints. “What did you do?”
“Who says I did anything?”
“I know that look, Lindstro¨m. Don’t bullshit me.”
“I had a long chat with Alina earlier today. Devlyn is at it again?—”
“Don’t think I’m not onto you. You’re diverting the subject, but since we’re talking about your nightmare of an ex-wife, I’ll let it slide. What did the drama queen do now?”
I share all the details.
“This woman needs to find a new hobby,” Erik says.
“I’m exasperated by her antics.”
He arches a brow. “I’m willing to bet my fortune, Alina brought up the topic of a fake?—”
