Glass Houses Read Free

before he heard Vanni say, “Thought I’d find you up here. Jealousy is bad news, buddy. You covet the guy’s orchids. I hope he counted ’em before he left.”
    “Petty theft isn’t my thing.”
    Vanni came all the way into the apartment. Even by the subdued light, his solid bulk and the vitality that hovered around him were big, powerful. He said, “What is your thing?”
    “Reading Ryan’s e-mail,” Aiden said, for the shock value. “Actually, Sam’s e-mail. That’s who our slimy colleague is when he’s chatting up women on l i n e.”
    Vanni chuckled, then was silent. Rain glittered in his dark, curly hair and on his leather jacket. He approached the computer, his substantial shoulders swinging as he sidestepped the chair to stand over Ryan’s screen. Vanni tapped the mouse and jutted his chin when he started scanning the list of mail that appeared.
    “What d’you think you’re doing?” Aiden asked. “Don’t you have a conscience?”
    “ Yeah. Around here somewhere. Probably hangin’ out with yours.”
    Aiden took a seat in the gray-leather chair again and watched while Vanni read Olivia’s first epistle, and the second. “Shee- it,” he muttered. “What’s he up to?”
    “If we read on, we may find out. But we aren’t going to read on, are we?”
    Vanni turned his head to look at Aiden. “Aren’t we?”
    “Let’s say someone’s sneaking into Ryan’s setup .” Aiden swung the chair gently to and fro. “No, let’s say someone’s hit Ryan, buried him up in those hills, and now the killer’s infiltrating Ryan’s persona. A crazy, naturally.”
    “Naturally,” Vanni said, grinning. “Poor old Ryan. And we never had a chance to finish figuring out if he’s really a cop gone bad.”
    This was one of Vanni’s favorite theories. He was convinced Ryan Hill—and maybe his sinu ous little partner, Fats Lemon— were on the take.
    Aiden shook his head and took the mouse away. He opened the next piece of mail from Olivia. When had he started calling this stranger Olivia?
    “You really think I should keep quiet about all this and bring the photos and negatives to America for safekeeping? This seems extreme, but I w ant to agree. I wonder why you’ re so against my idea of approaching Mark. You must be reacting as an FBI agent. And you’re nervous, too, aren’t you? You think whoever’s doing this could be anyone—including Mark. That wouldn’t make any sens e, but you aren’t to know that. ”
    Vanni snorted. He gestured as only he could. “Will you look at that? He thinks he’s more irresistible as a fed than NYPD. Schmuck. Maybe my ambition’s changed. Why help him retire altogether? Why not get him busted down to the beat?”
    “Mama,” Aiden said, “wouldn’t approve of plotting, in particular plotting for no more honorable reason than you don’t like a guy.”
    “Schmuck.” Vanni muttered.
    “Read on,” Aiden told him.
    “Sam, maybe I’m overreacting and letting my imagination run away with me, but what if I did come to you and someone frightful followed me on the plane? Wouldn’t that be terribly dangerous? They could hold up the plane, hijack it or something.”
    “The lady’s a dramatist,” Vanni said.
    Aiden said, “The lady’s scared. She ought to be. Whatever game friend Ryan’s playing—if he really means he wants her and her photos here—there’s something very wrong with the way it smells.”
    “Read the next one,” Vanni said, bracing himself on the desk.
    “Yeah. Only twenty minutes between the two.”
    “All right, I’ll come if you think it’s best to put distance between me and London. Oh, dear, I really am quite frightened now, I must say. We ’ ve never met, yet I feel I know you better than I’ve ever known any man. I don’t know what I should do without you. I’m alone here. Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t understand, and Daddy would blunder about making such an embarrassing fuss.
    “I suppose I could book up and let you know