Of Saints and Shadows (1994) Read Free Page B

buzzer.
    After a few moments he pushed it again, this time holding the button down for a few seconds. Still, there was no answer, so he buzzed once more and turned to leave. He had the outside door open, but paused a moment. His hesitation paid off when he heard a sleepy female voice.
    “Hello?” it said. “Who is it?”
    Peter let the door shut again behind him as he answered. “Hello, Miss Gallagher? My name is Peter Octavian, I’m a private investigator, a friend of Frank Harris. Janet’s father?”
    When the voice did not answer immediately, he added, “I realize it’s late, maybe if I come back early tomorrow evening?”
    “No, that’s okay. I’m sorry Mr. Octavian. I was kind of vegetating for a sec. Come on up, I was having trouble sleeping anyway.”
    She buzzed him in, and on the way up, Peter thought about that voice, wondered what she looked like. That scratchy, sleepy tone had been kind of sexy.
    He smiled, inwardly laughing at himself. It had been far too long since he’d had sex, and even longer since he’d had a relationship. There was always something more important to do, but he was beginning to feel the itch again. Unfortunately, now was not the time, and he was glad he had more pressing matters to attend to.
    He knocked twice, softly, and he could hear first the chain and then a dead bolt sliding back. A pair of chocolate-brown eyes peered around the door at him.
    “Please come in,” Meaghan said, swinging the door wide and then closing and locking it after him.
    Peter had made his way inside and taken his jacket off. When he turned around, he noticed her scrutinizing him. She smiled.
    “You don’t look like a detective,” she said.
    “Really? What do detectives look like?”
    “Oh, it’s not that you don’t look the part. Only that most of the real-life cops I’ve met are . . . well, they’re nothing like the ones in the movies, that’s for sure.”
    There was a moment of silence as her amused smile—corners of the mouth turned up slightly—met his lopsided grin head-on. Peter shook his head, chuckling.
    “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
    “If you like,” Meaghan countered.
    They both laughed, easily and comfortably. And then Meaghan sobered.
    “Any news on Janet?”
    “None yet, but I’m just getting started.”
    Peter looked her over. He thought she looked charming. An old-fashioned word, but it fit. She stood there in her tattered blue terry robe, a couple of sizes too big, and what looked like a man’s button-down oxford shirt underneath. The apartment had hardwood floors, and she wore sport socks to walk around. Her auburn hair was wild from the pillow, and she brushed the last of the Sandman from her eyes.
    She took his jacket.
    “Please, sit down,” she said, and gestured toward the couch. Peter glanced about the apartment: two bedrooms, one bath, kitchen, living room, dining room. The place was attractively decorated in white with soft blues and pinks, and the furniture definitely had a New England feel to it, sturdy yet elegant. Full bookshelves almost completely covered one wall, and throw rugs decorated the floors. Framed prints adorned the walls, from Monet to completely indecipherable modern art, as well as a large photograph of whales with their tails out of the water. Old-fashioned iron radiators stood in several places around the living and dining rooms, but it was a bit chilly in the place. He liked it.
    They sat down, he on the couch and she on an armchair across from it. It took him a moment to notice she was looking at him expectantly.
    “Um, I . . .” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long night.”
    “No problem.”
    “I figure you’ve already been a few rounds with the cops, so I’ll try to keep the questions to a minimum.”
    “Whatever you need to know to find Janet. The cops sure aren’t gonna do any good.”
    “Okay. Miss Gallagher . . .”
    “Meaghan.” She smiled, and he returned it.
    “Yes, Meaghan.