The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(32)

She tightened her grip on the dead man’s ankle and leaned into her task. She managed to haul most of the torso inside the vault. Only the head and both arms were still outside.

The pounding on the front door continued, more insistent this time. Collectors. They tended to be obsessive.

She was breathing hard and her forehead was damp with perspiration by the time she finally got the rest of the body over the threshold. She slammed the heavy door shut and set the lock.

The pounding was still going on upstairs. With a sigh she paused in front of an old looking glass that glittered with dark energy and checked her hair. She looked like she had just finished a workout.

She took a moment to remove the hair clip, shake out her shoulder-length, honey-brown hair and reclip it into a neat twist. She took off the full-length leather apron she had put on to deal with the body and dusted off her jeans. The crystal in the locket around her neck glittered briefly in the old Victorian mirror.

She paused at the foot of the steps to survey the basement. Everything appeared to be in order.

The pounding upstairs continued.

“I’m on my way,” she called.

She hurried up the steps, opened the door at the top and went through the back room and out across the sales floor.

Damn collectors.

She plastered a cheerful, welcoming smile across her face and opened the front door of the shop.

She dropped the smile immediately when she saw who stood on the step.

“Slater Arganbright,” she said. “Well, well, well. I heard you had gone into seclusion and were probably painting watercolors at Halcyon Manor.”

“You know you can’t always believe everything you hear, Gwendolyn,” Slater said. “This is my consultant, Catalina Lark. Catalina, meet Gwendolyn Swan.”

“How do you do?” Catalina said.

“Your name rings a bell,” Gwendolyn said. “Would you happen to be Catalina Lark the fake psychic, who told the cops that she was sure someone had been murdered?”

Catalina winced. “I am never going to live that down.” Gwendolyn mustered some reluctant empathy. “I realize things must have been rough for a while after the media got ahold of that story.”

“Very rough,” Catalina said. “But, hey, Victor paid his bill.”

Gwendolyn gave her a grim smile. “Sorry to say there is always a risk of becoming collateral damage when you get involved with the Foundation.”

“Believe it or not, I had already figured that out,” Catalina said. She eyed Slater. “Halcyon Manor?”

“I’ll explain later,” Slater said. “Sorry to bother you, Gwendolyn, but I’m working a case for my uncle. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Gwendolyn gave him her brightest smile. “You know me, anything for the Foundation. Come on in.”

She stepped back to allow her visitors through the front door, took a quick peek outside to make sure there was no one lurking nearby, and closed and relocked the door.

She went back across the room to put the barrier of the sales counter between herself and the man from the Foundation.

So much for the rumors about Slater Arganbright. He was not only very much alive, he was evidently stable enough to navigate a city street. Of course, that particular test set a very low bar. There were a lot of crazies on the streets of any big city, including Seattle.

That said, there was definitely something different about Slater, she concluded. She could see auras, but she didn’t have a strong talent for reading them. Her psychic strengths lay in another area. To her senses the energy fields around people appeared as little more than a pale glow. The brightness varied somewhat depending on the health and vitality of the person. As far as she could tell, Slater was relatively strong, but it looked like some damage had been done.

“You know I’m always delighted to help you find an interesting piece for your private collection, Slater,” she said, “but you make me nervous when you’re working a case for your uncle.”

“I get that a lot,” Slater said.

Catalina surveyed the gloom-filled sales floor. She looked disappointed.

“Do these things all have a paranormal provenance?” she asked.

Surprised by the question, Gwendolyn looked at her.

“What makes you ask?” she said.

“I don’t know. I guess I just expected more energy or something.”

Gwendolyn smiled. “You guessed right. Everything up here is a reproduction. The real artifacts are downstairs in the basement.”

“I see,” Catalina said.

Gwendolyn turned back to Slater. “All right, we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way. What can I do for you?”

“I need whatever information you may have heard regarding a very hot artifact from one of the lost labs that surfaced recently and may have found its way into Royston’s vault.”

“You know as well as I do that lab rumors circulate all the time in my business.”

“Let me be a little more precise,” Slater said. “I’m looking for an artifact hot enough to have attracted the attention of someone who was willing to commit murder to get it.”

Gwendolyn went very still. “I heard Royston died of natural causes.”

“Uncle Victor has his doubts.”

“Before we go there, you should know that I have recently raised my fees.”