Zinnia by Jayne Castle Read Free Book Online Page B

heavy object. Most likely that stone figure.”
    Zinnia jerked the flashlight to follow him. The beam gleamed briefly on his collar-length black hair, which was brushed straight back from a peak above his high forehead.
    She moved the light downward. A familiar face carved in pale marble lay on the floor near the toe of one of Nick’s very pricey black leather shoes. She swallowed when she spotted the reddish-brown stain on one corner of the statue.
    “It’s the bust of Patricia Thorncroft North that Morris always kept on the counter,” she whispered.
    “North?” Nick’s brows rose slightly. “The philosopher who discovered the Three Principles of Synergy?”
    “Yes. Morris specialized in the early theoretical works on synergy. He has, I mean he had, a fine collection of North’s writings.” Zinnia knew she was babbling. She had to get control of herself. “The police. I was about to call them.”
    “I’ll do it.” Nick turned away from the body and crossed through the rubble to the desk. “Why don’t you see if you can find the light switch?”
    Belatedly Zinnia realized that she was still holding the flashlight. There was no longer any need to conceal her presence, she thought. Morris was dead and the police would soon be on their way. She walked to the wall and found the switch that activated the old fashioned jelly-ice lamps.
    Their soft warm glow spilled across the wreckage that had been Morris’s book shop. Zinnia did not look at the crumpled body near the ladder.
    When she turned she saw Nick reach for the phone. For the first time she noticed that he was wearing a pair of thin black driving gloves. She stared, riveted by the sight of his powerful long-fingered hands, as he punched in the emergency number.
    He glanced at her, an expression of polite interest in his green-and-gold eyes. “Something wrong?”
    She would not let him reduce her to a trembling mass of jelly-ice. She was a Spring. The family coffers might be empty and the tabloids may have labeled her the “Scarlet Lady,” but she still had sufficient pride to face down the owner of a gambling casino.
    “I just wondered why you bothered to wear a pair of gloves here tonight,” she said. “No offense, but it gives the impression that you came prepared for something illegal.”
    “Yes, it does, doesn’t it? At least one of us was prepared. Unfortunately, you’ve probably left your prints all over the windowsill and everything else you’ve touched so far.”
    His sarcasm outraged her. “I have no intention of denying that I was here tonight. Why would I lie to the police?”
    “If you can’t think of a reasonable answer to that question, there’s no point getting into an in-depth discussion of the subject.” Nick broke off to speak into the phone. “Give me Detective Anselm, please.”
    Zinnia listened as Nick spoke briefly with the person on the other end of the line. There was a marked note of casual familiarity in his voice. This was obviously not the first time he had dealt with the police. Given his line of work, that was probably not surprising, she thought.
    “Yes, we’ll both wait until you get here,” Nick concluded. He replaced the receiver with his black-gloved hand and looked at Zinnia. “Anselm said he’d be here in a few minutes.”
    She relaxed slightly. The authorities were on their way. It would all be over soon.
    “Poor Morris.” She tried to think of something constructive to do. “I wonder if I should call his wife.”
    Nick’s gaze sharpened. “Fenwick is married?”
    “Yes, I think her name is Polly. The two of them haven’t lived together for several years. Morris told me once that Polly moved out a long time ago because she thought he was getting too weird.”
    “I see.”
    “A very sad situation. They couldn’t get a divorce, of course, so all they could do was separate. Morris blamed himself. Everyone knows matrix-talents are difficult to match properly.”
    “So I’m told,” Nick