Hunting Eve by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page B

You’re still hoping they’ll turn up before you take the plunge and have to buy them again. But it’s been what, three months?”
    Jane thought for a moment. “Two.”
    “In the meantime you’ve been wearing an inexpensive pair that are a little uncomfortable for you. They look similar to the ones you lost, but they’re not the same, are they?”
    “No.” Jane smiled. “So now are you going to tell me where I can find my Guccis?”
    “Under the sofa in your sitting room, probably on the left side.”
    Jane’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
    “Nah, just kidding about that one. Who do you think I am?”
    Jane shook her head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
    “But I can tell you that your favorite bracelet was made in the twenties or thirties, possibly made of silver and Czech glass. Your second favorite is very colorful, maybe amber, blue-and-white stardust patterns all around, with intricate gold settings.”
    Jane instinctively gripped her own bare left wrist. “You’re right. But I didn’t bring either of them with me.”
    “I’m sure you had more important things on your mind. You use an iPhone, and you don’t own a car. Not that you really need one in London. Eve already told me that you’re an artist, but she didn’t say that you’ve recently been doing microscopic detail work, possibly photorealism?”
    Jane was gazing at her in amazement. “Yes, I’ve been experimenting just in the past few weeks. I haven’t shown anyone my work yet.”
    “I’ve always admired artists who weren’t afraid to branch out and try new forms.”
    Jane didn’t speak for a moment, then slowly nodded. “The admiration is mutual, Dr. Michaels.”
    Kendra inclined her head. “Kendra.”
    Joe smiled. “Didn’t I tell you, Jane?”
    “Yes,” Jane said. She turned back to Kendra. “But are you sure that someone didn’t tell you all this? Joe wasn’t entirely certain. Not Eve or Joe?”
    “I was told, but not by them.”
    “Then who?”
    “By you.” Kendra leaned back against the porch rail. “All those years I was blind, I used everything I had to make my way in the world. Everything I heard, smelled, felt, and tasted was crucial. I was like a voracious sponge absorbing everything. You just don’t unlearn that. And now that I can see, I want to pay attention to everything. Vision is such a wonderful gift that I don’t take anything for granted.”
    “Clearly you don’t,” Jane said. “So how did I tell you all that?”
    “Your clothes tell me quite a bit. You’re wearing a three-year-old pair of Feiyue sneakers and a pair of slacks from Maje that are about the same age. You could have bought them in many cities or even online, but each of those items is most popular in France. Odds are that you were living there at the time of purchase.”
    Jane nodded. “I was. But you knew I moved later to England.”
    “You replaced your shoelaces within the last few months, and those are different from any that Feiyues come with. Those are polyester flat-woven, five-sixteenth-inch-wide laces. Clearly from the UK, not France. Your shoes are scuffed with tiny marks of gray paint on the fronts and backs, some fresher than others. You picked them up by several months of banging your toes and heels against painted staircase risers, probably unavoidable because the treads are so narrow. That wouldn’t be the case in a newer building. And you now obviously go to a hair salon in England, not France.”
    Jane flipped back her shoulder-length red-brown hair. “Obviously? I didn’t know I had a British hairstyle.”
    “You don’t, but you use a British shampoo. Indian Mulberry by Molton Brown.”
    Jane’s mouth fell open. “How in the hell—”
    “A very distinctive scent.” Kendra tapped her nose. “When you’re blind, shampoos and soap odors are fairly reliable indicators as to who is standing nearby. And sometimes where people come from.”
    “Well, you’re dead right. About my hair and my