“That’s the Radwells, the perfect modern blended family,” Abby said. She turned away and became very busy with the teakettle. “That’s my stepbrother, Dawson, and my half sisters standing with me behind Dad and Diana.”
“Your half sisters look like twins.”
“They are. They’re in college.” Abby set the kettle on a burner. “I was twelve when they were born. Dawson was thirteen.”
He put the book down on the coffee table and finished his examination of the room. One corner had been turned into a home office outfitted with a desk, a computer and some storage cabinets.
The tiny balcony and wraparound floor–to–ceiling windows took full advantage of the cityscape view. The lights of the Space Needle glittered in the night.
The whole place glowed with a cozy, inviting warmth that suggested a very personal touch. A lot of time and attention had been lavished on the little condo to transform it from a living space into a home.
“Nice,” he said.
Abby smiled, the first genuine smile he had gotten from her. She was suddenly radiant. Deep satisfaction and delight lit her eyes. “It’s my first home. I’ve been renting forever. But I finally managed to save enough for a down payment. Moved in three months ago. Did the decorating myself. My friends helped me with the painting and built-ins.”
There was more than just pride of ownership in her voice. “It’s my first home” said a lot. The little condo was very important to Abby. Something else she had said struck him, too. Her friends had helped her paint and decorate. There was no mention of any assistance from her stepbrother and half sisters.
He walked to the granite counter that divided the living area from the kitchen and angled himself onto one of the bar stools.
Abby took a canister down out of the cupboard. “I assume you came to see me tonight because you’ve made some progress on the investigation?”
“Nope. I’ve got zip.”
For a heartbeat or two she did not move or even blink. Her stillness was absolute. She recovered quickly and frowned.
“Then what in the world are you doing here?” she asked.
He folded his arms on the counter. “My job. I told you I don’t have any startling revelations, but I do have a few questions.”
“You could have called.”
“I prefer to get my answers face–to–face.” He smiled. “Less chance of a misunderstanding that way.”
“Fine, whatever.” She removed the lid of the canister and started spooning loose tea into a pot. “Ask your questions.”
“You said you don’t know what the blackmailer wants.”
“I told you, he hasn’t made any specific demands.”
“Do you have any theories?”
“I assume he’s after some very hot, probably encrypted, book. He wants me to get it for him.”
“But you don’t know which book?”
“Not yet.” She put the lid back on the canister. “At any given time, there are always a few extremely rare volumes with a paranormal provenance floating around in the underground.”
“Did Thaddeus Webber give you any clue?”
“No.” She opened another cupboard and took down two mugs. “Our communication on the subject thus far has been via email. Thaddeus lives alone in the foothills of the Cascades. He’s very reclusive. Quite paranoid. He doesn’t have a phone. Says they’re too easy to tap. When he insisted that I contact you immediately, I emailed him a couple of questions, but the only response I got was ‘Talk to Sam Coppersmith. He’ll know what to do.
“I think he’s right. I have a better idea of what may be going down than you do.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I’ve come to the same conclusion. Talk to me, Sam.”
“I’m pretty sure that Thaddeus Webber sent you to me because he thinks your blackmailer is after an old lab notebook that my father spent years trying to find.”
“For the record, whoever he is, he’s notmyblackmailer, but go on.”
