They're Watching (2010) by Gregg Hurwitz Read Free Book Online Page A

of some sort. I ushered them in. We sat at the dining table like it was some sort of social visit. Richards's gaze caught on my bruised knuckles. I dropped my hand quickly into my lap.
    "Would you like something to drink?" Ariana asked.
    Valentine shook his head, but Richards smiled brightly. "I would love something to drink. Glass of water. With a spoon."
    Ariana arched an eyebrow but brought both over. Richards plucked three Sweet'N Lows from her inside lapel pocket and shook the pink packets down. She tore off the ends, dumped the sweetener in, and stirred. "Don't ask. It's a fucking diet so I can fit into a boat tarp by beach season. Now, what's going on here?"
    I ran through it all for them, Richards quietly noting Ariana's surprise at some of the revelations. Halfway through, Valentine got up and stood at the kitchen window, staring out despite the fact that the blinds were closed. After I finished, Richards knocked the table twice and said, "Let's take a look at these DVDs, then."
    I fed in the first disc, Richards and Valentine exchanging a glance over my tissue-handling of the evidence. We stood before the flat-screen, all four of us, arms crossed, scouts watching batting practice. After the last one finished, Richards said, "Well, well."
    Back to the dining table. She sat, and Ariana and I followed suit. Valentine stayed in the family room, poking through the cabinets. Ariana glanced over her shoulder at him a few times, nervously. I realized, with approval, that Richards had taken a chair on the far side so Ariana and I would wind up sitting with our backs to her partner as he snooped.
    Richards smoothed her hands across the lacquered surface. "This one of your designs?"
    Ariana said, "How did you . . . ?"
    "Stacks of trade mags on the table by the front door. Sketch pad on the stairs, there. Charcoal smear on your left sleeve. Lefty--creative. And your hands"--Richards reached across the table, took Ariana by the wrists, like a fortune-teller--"rougher than suburban. These hands work with abrasives, I'd guess. So: a furniture designer."
    Ariana withdrew her hands.
    Valentine was behind us. "You keep a house key outside somewhere? Hidden?"
    "Fake rock by the driveway," I answered. "But like I said, I probably left the back door unlocked myself."
    "But you're not certain," he told me.
    "No."
    "Alarm? You got two signs out front, stickers in the windows."
    "Just the signs. From the last owner. As deterrents. We dropped the service."
    Valentine made a noise in the back of his throat.
    Richards asked, "Why?"
    "Expensive."
    Valentine looked around with pursed lips, presumably at the nice furnishings.
    "Okay," I said, "we'll call the company, get it hooked up again."
    He asked, "It work by code or keys?"
    "Both."
    "How many keys?"
    "Two."
    "You still have 'em?"
    I walked over, pulled them from the back of the silverware drawer. "Yes."
    "Anyone else know where those keys are?"
    "No."
    Valentine took them from me and dropped them into the trash can. "Get new ones. Change your code. Don't tell anyone. Not the cleaning lady, not your Aunt Hilda, nobody." His flat stare was unreadable. "Only you two should know."
    Richards stood, winked at me. "Let's take a look outside, Patrick." Ariana started to stand, and Richards said, "It's cold out there. Why don't you wait inside with Detective Valentine?"
    Ariana eyed her a beat too long. "Fine. I'll go get the key in the fake rock, then."
    Richards gave me an after-you flourish of the hand, and we went through the rear door. Outside, she crouched, studied the knob.
    "Detective Richards--"
    "Please. Sally."
    "Okay, Sally. Why was he wearing latex gloves?"
    "Leather ones leave distinctive marks, just like fingerprints."
    "So if the guy used leather gloves twice, you'd be able to ID them."
    She cocked her head, taking me in from an angle. "Screenwriter, yeah?"
    I grinned. Her Sherlock routine in the kitchen with Ariana's charcoaled sleeve was probably just stage dressing on a Google