Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
She asked him for her business card back, then jotted her personal cellphone number on it and handed it back to him.
“Give me a call, Mr. Raven, and we can make the arrangements.”
As she got into her car, he stood there, reading the card. She started the engine while he walked slowly back to his truck, and got inside. After adjusting his mirror, he stared at her. She drove on, stopping alongside his vehicle. Rolling down her passenger side window, she leaned forward. He followed suit and rolled down his window, too. The reverberations of, ‘Goo Goo Muck,’ by The Cramps sprung from his truck.
“Have a good evening, Nikolai.”
“I will. You do the same. You’ll hear from me by tomorrow afternoon.”
And then, just like that, he drove away…
CHAPTER FOUR
Fore Street restaurant had a two month long waiting list, but Porsche had run into someone at the farmer’s market who told her that sometimes, if she was willing to wait at the bar right when they opened at 5:00 PM, a slot could mysteriously open up, and then she could thank the gods and goddesses for their favor. She figured she’d try her hand at it. Luck had been good as of late—perchance it would strike again.
So she sat there people watching, reflecting on her day as she bided her time. She’d had an eventful day, and the cherry on top was meeting with a cagey, blacksmithing giant who possessed a pair of the most alluring eyes she’d ever seen.
Mr. Nikolai Raven was unsettlingly atypical, difficult to read, and yet, he felt quite familiar. The man was comfortable in his own skin, enough to ask her out, despite him being a suspect in a string of horrendous murders.
Who does that? Apparently, Mr. Raven.
I mean, I have to call it like I see it. He either has a weak grip on the gravity and reality of the situation, a person who is guilty and trying to appear removed from the circumstances surrounding them, or is innocent and certain they are in no danger or trouble whatsoever.
It was the oddest thing—and yet, after some thought, it made perfect sense. If he was in fact responsible for these killings, then he’d absolutely believe she wouldn’t suspect a man who’d do things like complement the physical appearance of a private investigator—the same investigator who conceivably believed he was a serial killer—then ask her out to dinner without blinking an eye. He was a real piece of work.
She was comfortable dealing with all sorts of people, including cold blooded murderers, because she had done so many times before. It took a lot to frighten her, make her gasp in disbelief. If he in fact was the culprit, he was no different than the rest of the wicked men and women roaming the earth, wreaking havoc in plain sight. Nikolai was persistent in his attempts to woo her, without appearing desperate or thirsty, and though she hated to admit it, she found that somewhat alluring.
She didn’t let Captain White know about the dinner invitation or her acceptance. He’d certainly find that unorthodox, but if she wanted to figure out who was responsible for Clark’s disappearance and subsequent death, then she needed to trust her gut and get Mr. Raven in a more relaxed environment. There was no way he’d open up unless he began to trust her, and certainly she could use her feminine wiles and professional manipulating skills to peel back his layers, thus achieving her goals.
After speaking with him, she planned on calling it a night, but before she could even get comfortable in her condo, Captain White informed her that Ethan Jacobson, another suspect on her list, had returned to town early from his trip to Washington D.C., where he had family and worked at Fore Street restaurant in the evenings as a waiter. So she made a few calls and discovered he was due to come in to work that very evening.
Now, she sat at the bar, twirling an olive on a toothpick. She hated martinis, but only ordered it because it was the one drink she knew she could nurse for a long while, and look somewhat sophisticated doing it. After all, she didn’t wish to bring too much attention to herself. She was getting enough as it was, and not all of it was welcome. Dressed in a long, simple dark red dress and heels that tied around the ankle, she looked around the restaurant. She’d figured out the lay of the land when she first arrived.
Out of just about every window was a harbor view from an elegant back room, and while eating in the main dining area, you could watch the open view kitchen, as top chefs created magnificent works of culinary art. Time passed and eventually an older man approached her, mischievousness in his eyes. She’d worn her fake wedding ring and band this evening, but it didn’t ward him off, and politely declined his offer for another drink. Once he slinked away, she was back scanning the place.