Page 64 of Angel

Gabriel pours a glass of fresh orange juice into two glasses and pushes one my way.

“We have the masked stalker. The first bouquet, telling Ms. Clere he murdered Giovanni because she flirted with him. Then the guy who broke into her house, knowing her address, the layout, and the fact that the housekeeper had left.”

I say nothing, wondering where he’s going with this.

“The second bouquet, this time directed at you. I’m guessing you could expect a visit from him soon if what happened to Giovanni is anything to go by.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Don’t be complacent,” he snaps, and I let it slide because when have I ever been complacent?

“Anything else to tell me?”

“Yeah, Sophie’s boss at the studios is throwing a party on his boat this weekend. He invited her to stay overnight, so she asked me to accompany her.”

“Dirty bastard.” Gabriel sighs heavily. “He won’t be happy when you show up on her arm.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

His eyes flash.

“So, the masked man will be unable to strike this weekend. That could work in our favor and give us more time to locate him.”

I nod, happy he’s calmed down enough to carry on doing what he does best. Plotting.

“I had a report concerning the staff at the mansion and her apartment. Two sisters act as housekeepers, one in each house. Three gardeners at the mansion, no other staff at the beach house. The doorman on the studio penthouse checks out along with the apartment building staff.”

“What about the gardeners?”

“One has worked in the gardens for three generations. He kind of came with the house. He’s a family man: wife, three kids, and seven grandkids. Doesn’t drink, do drugs, and his only vice is poker once a week at the Sinbad bar.”

“The others?”

“The second one came from a local agency; we’re checking him out currently. The third is the son of Rosita, the sister who works at the mansion.”

“Does he check out?”

“Once again, we’re working on it.”

He pauses, his eyes staring into nothing as something hits him hard, and then he shakes himself, his expression grim.

“It’s the twelfth of June.”

I nod, balling my hand into a fist as I face the date with my usual anger.

He stands, grief heavy on the lines of his face.

“Walk with me.”

We head down the stone steps onto the manicured lawn, silence between us, both locked away in our own thoughts.

We head toward the lake. The sun shining as it climbs in the sky, promising a beautiful day, unconcerned about previous devastating ones.

Bad things happen under sunny skies just as much as in darkness and rain. Nature doesn’t care; she shines regardless, some storms bringing pleasure, others devastation.

We reach the edge of the lake, and Gabriel heads toward the far side of it, toward a small area on a raised elevation looking out on the lake. It’s surrounded by a white picket fence, flowers dancing in the slight breeze. Peaceful, harmonious, a world away from danger.

The click of the white gate announces our arrival, and I note the two wreaths waiting for us on the small stone bench overlooking two graves.