Copper Beach

9

SHE DIDN’T PRETEND THAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HE WAS talking about.

“Well, sure,” she said. “Even my friend Gwen has heard them.”

“I didn’t kill Cassidy Lawrence.”

“I know.”

That was not the response he had expected.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

Abby shrugged. “Gwen would never have left us alone together if she thought you were capable of that kind of thing.”

He frowned. “She’s that good?”

“She’s that good.”

“Huh.”

So much for the fantasy of Abby throwing herself into his arms and swearing a vow of unqualified trust. Take what you can get, Coppersmith.

“There’s one other thing I’d like to clarify,” he said.

“Yes?”

“For some reason, a lot of folks seem to believe that Cassidy and I were engaged.”

“Not true?”

“No,” he said. “We saw a lot of each other for a while, and people made some assumptions. We had an affair, but she was not my fiancée.”

“I see.”

Abby’s phone chimed into the sudden, acute silence. She flinched, clearly startled, and picked up the device. She glanced at the screen, smiled and took the call.

“Talk about a psychic intercept,” she said. She walked out from behind the kitchen counter, heading toward the small desk. “We were just chatting about you, Gwen.…Yes, that’s what I told him. You can take off for Hawaii without having to worry about me.”

Abby stopped in front of her desk and began to flip through a small stack of mail.

“Yes,” she said. “I promise I’ll call Nick if I think I need backup. But I’ll be fine.…Yes.…Good night. Safe trip. I know it’s a job, but try to have some fun in Hawaii, okay?…Yes, I promise I’ll call with updates.”

She closed the phone and set it down. “Good news. Gwen just gave you a clean bill of aura health.”

“I appreciate that,” Sam said.

Abby tossed the last of the mail aside and reached for the small package that sat on the desk. “I don’t remember doing any online shopping recently.”

A visible shiver went through her when her fingers closed around the parcel. She gave a sharp, audible gasp. Energy sparked in the atmosphere.

“Oh, my,” she breathed.

Newton jumped to his feet, ears sharpened. He whined softly.

Sam was already moving, crossing the room to where Abby stood, gazing raptly at the package that she held in both hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing is wrong.” She had recovered from the initial shock. Anticipation sparkled in her eyes. “I think someone sent me a very special gift, a book, judging by the energy. An old one.”

He could sense the subtle shiver of energy around the package now. “Whatever is in there is hot.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said. She began to unwrap the package with great care. “Very hot.”

The hairs lifted on the nape of his neck.

“Who sent it?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet. There’s no return address. Maybe there will be a note inside. I have a hunch that it’s a thank-you gift from one of my clients.”

“Your clients have your home address?”

“No, of course not. Too many crazies in my line. All of my business correspondence goes to an anonymous private post office box and is then forwarded here.”

She got the outer wrapping off, revealing an ornately carved wooden box.

“Those are alchemical designs,” Sam said.

“They certainly are.”

Abby opened the hinged lid of the box. There was a small leather-bound book inside. She used both hands to take it out. She smiled.

“What?” Sam asked warily.

“It’s encrypted with a delicate little psi-code.” Abby opened the cover with great care and studied the title page. Pleasure and a little heat illuminated her eyes.

Sam looked over her shoulder and studied the Latin. “What does it say?”

“The title translates to A Treatise on the Herbs and Flowers Most Useful in the Art of Mixing Perfumes. It’s a guide to perfume making, written by someone who obviously had a psychic talent for the craft. According to the title page, it contains some of Cleopatra’s own personal recipes. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Abby,” Sam said, “it wasn’t mailed to you.”

“Yes, I know. I told you, my mail goes through a private post office.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said evenly. “It wasn’t mailed anywhere. There’s no postage on it. That package must have been hand-delivered.”

Abby looked up at last. Her eyes narrowed faintly. He realized he finally had her attention.

“Well, I do have a few friends,” she said tentatively. “I suppose one of them could have dropped it off.”

“Is there a note?”

“I didn’t notice one.” She looked at the wooden box. There was a small white envelope inside. “Wait, there it is.”

She put the book down and opened the envelope. She pulled out the small card inside and read the handwritten message: “Please accept this small gift as an expression of my admiration for your unique talents. I wish to commission your services with a view to acquiring a rare item that is rumored to be coming onto the market. Price is no object. There will be a generous bonus if you are successful. Regardless of your decision, the herbal is yours to keep.”

“Someone is trying to bribe you to take him on as a client,” Sam said. “And he knows where you live.”

“Oh, crap,” Abby said.