her tracks and put a hand to her
forehead.
“Great,” she said, as he approached. “Just great. This is really not my day.”
“That was a quick escape,” he said.
“Thank you. Now, will you please go away? I need to find a phone book. Unless you happen to have jumper cables in your Jaguar.
My battery is dead.”
“You left your headlights on?”
“No,” Carly said flatly. “I left the interior light on. One of the doors wasn’t closed all the way.”
“That shouldn’t be enough to drain a battery.”
“It was enough to drain mine. I need a new one, and I haven’t gotten around to buying it. This is what I get for procrastinating.
Now I have to call a tow truck, and I’m already late for work.”
“I’ll drive you. You can deal with the car later.”
“What?” She looked stunned, then wary. “Why?”
“Because you’re late,” Max said. “And because I’m headed that way.”
That wasn’t actually true, but he wanted to talk to her. This new idea about her possible relationship with his grandfather
was very disturbing, and he wanted more information.
“Come on,” he said, as she stood there, unconvinced. “It’ll take half an hour to get a tow truck here, and it’s already eight-fifty.”
“I know! My first appointment is in ten minutes.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. You can drive me to work. But this
is very strange, coming from you, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”
She sat silently in the passenger seat as Max pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced over at her and saw that she was staring
out the window, her face expressionless.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said.
Max didn’t believe it. The hospital visit had clearly upset her, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if
he had misjudged the whole situation. The pain in her eyes yesterday when he had broken the news about Henry, the passion
in her voice when she had called his grandfather “one of the kindest and most caring people” she had ever met… Was she acting
a part, as he had assumed then, or did she genuinely love Henry Tremayne?
And if she did, what did that mean? Who, exactly, was Carly Martin? He knew a little bit about her life, but nothing whatsoever
about her mind. He looked speculatively at her, letting his eyes travel over her profile, noting the tiny lines at the corners
of her eyes as she squinted in the sunlight. He guessed that she was not quite thirty; young, but old enough to understand
that a person’s age often matters less than what is in their soul.
What if there had been some kind of May-December romance? If Carly had been Henry’s mistress, she might very well feel entitled
to the house. God forbid, she might even want to keep it, for sentimental reasons.
He was going to have to uncover the truth.
C HAPTER 5
T he Union Street Veterinary Clinic was in the heart of San Francisco’s trendy Marina district, and had the sky-high property
taxes to prove it. Carly had once suggested to Richard that they sell their small building and relocate to another area, where
they could have more space for less money. It seemed like a good idea to her, since they had a loyal clientele who would follow
them, but Richard had vetoed the idea. He liked the prestige of being in an exclusive section of town, and the latitude it
gave him to inflate prices to suit the local market.
Max pulled the car smoothly up to the curb, stopping in the red zone in front of the clinic, and turned off the ignition.
Carly glanced at him. They had exchanged only a few words during the drive, mostly because she had answered him in monosyllables,
not trusting the sudden truce. She didn’t know what he was up to, and it made her nervous.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in and use your phone. My cell phone battery is dead.”
Carly
Learning to Kill: Stories