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“You mean, he irritates me.”

“Whatever you want to call it. But you’re getting along with him now, right?”

“Okay, yes, I suppose.” She lost count of section B again and swore under her breath. “Damn, where was I?”

Rinda chuckled.

“Okay, I give up! If you really want to know, Carter was fine when I went in to see him about the note. Interested. Concerned. Professional. Not like the other time, when he acted like he thought I expected some kind of special treatment. I got the feeling that he expected me to show up in a limo, that I’d be wearing sunglasses and tons of lip gloss and Gucci shoes…something straight out of The Idiot’s Guide to Hollywood Stereotypes.”

Rinda laughed. “You’ve got him all wrong. He’s just busy. I know Shane. He’ll be on this stalker thing like a flea on a dog.”

“I hope so.” She picked up the B tickets again.

“You might consider doing some of the things he suggested.”

“Great—you, too. Well, just for the record, I’m not trading in Critter for a newer, sleeker, fiercer model,” Jenna said, and the old dog, curled on a mat at the base of the stairs to the belltower, thumped his tail at the sound of his name. “I’m also not hiring a damned bodyguard.”

“You’ve got the alarm system fixed, though. Right?”

“I’m working on it. I’ve called the company, but they’re booked solid.”

“I supposed that’s a start. How are the girls taking all this?”

“With trepidation. I don’t want either of them to freak out, so I’ve downplayed this whole stalker thing a bit, but I’m not leaving them alone much. Hans and his wife Ellie are willing to hang out at the house whenever I need them.”

“The Dvoraks? They’re ancient.”

“You’re as bad as the kids. Hans is in his early seventies, not exactly ancient, and Ellie’s even younger. They’re both sharp as tacks and in good physical shape. Wait

a minute—why am I defending them to you?”

“Sorry I asked.”

“You should be, and besides Hans and Ellie, I’ve got Estella coming over to clean a couple of times a week.”

“Weather permitting.”

“And Ron stopping by for the personal training sessions. For the record, he’s twenty-six—young enough for you?”

“I said I was sorry. For God’s sake, Jenna, you’re touchy,” Rinda said, then smiled. “Okay, I guess you’ve got a good reason.”

Scott, climbing down from the rafters where he’d been adjusting the lights, had obviously been eavesdropping. “You know, I could help with the alarm system,” he offered, not meeting Jenna’s eyes. He was a gawky kid, with spiky red hair and eyes that seemed a little too round, ostensibly because of the fact that he never had gotten quite comfortable in his contacts. “Just give me a chance, Mama.”

“What? Oh!” Jenna’s flesh crawled as she recognized the line from her first movie, Innocence Lost. As Katrina, a thirteen-year-old prostitute, she had uttered the very same line when begging her reticent madam of a mother for a chance to earn her own money by giving up her virginity.

“Scott!” Rinda hadn’t missed the reference, either. “Enough with the quoting of dialogue, okay? Jenna gets it. You’re a fan. Geez.”

Scott blinked rapidly and blushed. “Sorry.”

“You should be. Cut it out.” It wasn’t the first time Scott had come up with a line and inserted it into the conversation, but Rinda had never said anything before, and Jenna had let them pass. But it was strange, and she was glad Rinda put the clamps on her son.

“I, uh, just thought that I could make sure that Jenna’s got a security system that has all the new stuff like infrared sensors and motion detectors. State-of-the art equipment.” Scott turned to Jenna. “Didn’t you say you wanted a new system?”

“Yeah, I’m considering it,” she said cautiously, sensing what was to come.

“I could install it for you!” he said with a smile that seemed genuine enough, yet she couldn’t shake the sensation that something wasn’t right with the kid. “Piece o’ cake!”

“I don’t know,” Jenna hedged.


Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery