“I’m not saying a thing until you tell me what this is about. By what license do you insult me and question me like this? What has happened? And, Mr. Barrett, I intend to complain to your superiors about your uncouth and unnecessarily rough treatment.”
He quirked one of the golden eyebrows at her and seemed faintly amused by her show of bravado. “Go ahead. Complain. We’re accused of much worse every day. It’s my word against yours. Anyway, lady, you aren’t exactly in a position to start issuing ultimatums. Any minute now, I may get mad as hell at you. Believe me, that’s something you’d be wise to avoid.” His eyes raked her insolently and she blushed when she remembered how he had kissed her. Why had he done that?
“Start talking,” he warned in a low, sinister voice.
All right, Mr. Government Agent, I’ll play your little game for a while and you’ll suffer later for humiliating me this way. “What do you want to know?” she asked tartly.
“Your name.”
“I’ve already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
She sighed. “Erin O’Shea.”
“Address.”
“4435 Meadowbrook Road, Houston, Texas.”
“That’s what it says on the driver’s license. Very good,” he said. All the while she was talking, he had been rifling through the items in her purse. He had studied her driver’s license, thumbed through the money in her wallet, looked through her checkbook, and scanned the list of stubbed checks. “Go on,” he said.
“What—”
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you that, too,” she said crossly. Her patience with this creep had just about played out. She was quickly tiring of his game of cops and robbers.
He looked up at her with dark, hooded eyes and said, “Tell me again.” His cold, steely voice brooked no argument.
“I was adopted when I was an infant. For several years I have been looking for my natural parents and a brother whom I discovered I had. We were separated when we were adopted by different families. Apparently the agencies weren’t sensitive about things like that then.”
He had unzipped her clear plastic makeup bag and was inspecting each lipstick, compact, and small container for its contents. He sniffed appreciatively at a cut glass travel atomizer of Lauren perfume. He opened a pillbox and took out a small white tablet.
“That’s aspirin,” she said defensively.
He nodded and recapped the box. “I haven’t made any accusations,” he countered. “Go on.”
“I learned that Kenneth Lyman is my brother. I came here today from Houston to introduce myself to him. That’s all there is. You know the rest. Please tell me what all of this is about.”
He rezipped the cosmetic bag and tossed it onto the table. After pushing the glasses to the top of his head, he hitched one hip over the corner of the table and folded his arms across his chest. Watching her closely, he said, “Kenneth Lyman embezzled seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the Yerba Buena National Bank ten days ago. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
The level, distinct words hit Erin like a cannonball in the chest. Their impact was forceful. For several moments, she couldn’t breathe, and when she did, it was in quick, insufficient pants.
Before she could form any response to this devastating piece of news, Mike opened the door and carried in her two pieces of luggage and her leather trench coat. He deposited the suitcases on the floor and draped the coat over a chair. Then he left as unobtrusively as he had come.
“Let’s try again, Miss O’Shea, if indeed that is your name,” Mr. Barrett said. “How long have you known Lyman?”
Erin turned wide, disbelieving eyes on him. “I… I’ve never met him,” she gasped. “I told you that I—”
“I know what you told me, Miss O’Shea. But you’ll have to admit it’s a pretty farfetched story. Come on and level with me. Were you in on this job with Lyman?”
“What!” She jumped off the couch. “You must be crazy!”
“Sit down,” he growled ominously. She retreated from that terrible, threatening face until the backs of her knees touched the sofa and she collapsed on it. “I have never met my brother,” she declared slowly.
He knelt on the floor beside her luggage and unsnapped the latch. Frilly underwear and nightgowns spilled over his hands as he spread the hinged halves apart. Lifting each garment, he gave it a thorough inspection.
One sheer blue nightgown with an ecru lace bodice caught his attention. Slowly, he drew it across his palm. Looking up at her he said, “Very nice.” Erin flushed hotly with embarrassment and anger. “I’m waiting,” he said, as he continued to examine the articles in her suitcase.