Chapter Nine #2
Timir Lee was tall and thin, his expensive suit tailored perfectly, complete with a goddamn pocket square.
He had the indeterminate heritage that Riya seemed to have, but seemed more likely to be Indian, the Eastern, not the Native, kind.
His black hair was neat and shiny with some sort of product.
He was reasonably attractive and had an air of confidence and success around him.
“Timir Lee,” I called, falling into step with him.
“I’m on lunch. Make an appointment.”
Oh, he was a charmer.
“I’m here about Riya Sweeney,” I said as he walked out the front door.
“Riya?” he asked, turning back suddenly outside the door on the sidewalk.
“Got your attention, I see,” I said with a nod.
“Who are you?”
“Sawyer Anderson. I’m Ms. Sweeney’s PI.”
“Her PI. Is she being stalked or something?”
“Or something,” I agreed.
“Is she alright?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
“I need to know about your and Riya’s relationship.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Sure. What do you need to know?”
“Well, you dated for about a year…”
“One week shy,” he agreed.
“Mutual or…”
“Riya was young. She was fresh out of a relationship where a man treated her like she was interchangeable with other women. She didn’t like how often I had to be away on business and was distrustful that I was faithful.”
“Were you?”
“I was thirty-three years old, Mr. Anderson. I had long since gotten over my need to bed any attractive woman I came across. I was looking for something serious.”
“With a woman ten years your junior?”
“It’s a cliché to say, but Riya truly was mature for her age. She knew what she wanted out of life, and I thought she wanted that with me.”
“She broke up with you?”
“The night I came back from a business trip to the City, I found her in the living room next to a pile of her boxes. She was tired of being alone and worrying. So she was done. She didn’t realize I had a ring in my pocket.
I bought it at Tiffany. It was an almost exact replica of the one her father gave her mother. ”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Have you been in contact since?”
“I won’t lie. I tried a time or two. I wasn’t done with her. But she was happy finally getting her life going, standing on her own feet, not relying on men. She wasn’t looking for a commitment, and I still was. Is any of this any help?”
It’d be a fuckuva lot of help if I was looking for character references. She was, by all accounts, a great person. The men she loved had nothing but kind words to say about her, even after all the years.
“Not particularly. But at least I can scratch you off the list.”
He nodded at that, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He reached for it and looked at the screen with a sigh. “I hope you find what you are looking for, Mr. Anderson,” he said, nodding at me, then walking toward his waiting car.
Oh for three.
And the other two names on the list would need a lot more research to narrow their names down.
Or, I could go to the source and ask.
She wouldn’t like that, but she would have to get over it.
When I got back to the apartment late that night, I found her gone. I also found my dog gone. I felt my guts twist slightly before I saw my note sitting on the counter. Walking over, I saw the panties missing and her own writing underneath mine, much more loopy and feminine.
“I figured if I put my big girl panties on, I could take Slim for his evening walk.”
I smiled at that, bunched up the note, and tossed it. Then I ordered in and waited.
And waited.
And fucking waited.
By the time I heard Slim’s paws on the stairs and his tags jingling, I had been pacing the floor for fifteen minutes.
“What the fuck?” I exploded when she stepped inside, her cheeks a little pink, her hair tied back, in yoga pants with a sugar skull print and my black sweatshirt I had given her.
“What the fuck what?” she asked innocently, a little coolly, as she leaned down and unclipped Slim, who immediately went to get a long drink, his tongue hanging out.
“Been home about forty minutes. You were gone before I even got here.”
“Your dog was crossing his legs, Sawyer,” she said, moving across the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Fine. Taking him out takes five minutes, not forty.”
“He’s also lazy and fat,” she added, taking a long swig. “We took a brisk walk down the main drag and back. Twice. It’s not good for a big dog to be overweight.”
I took a breath and let it out slowly. “Riya, we don’t know what happened to you. You shouldn’t be out there…”
“Having a life?” she asked, brow raised.
“I should… what? Just sit up here like Rapunzel and wait for you to let me out of my tower? Newsflash, Sawyer. I might be someone who was involved in a situation beyond her control, but that doesn’t make me some damsel in distress.
I don’t need you to save or protect me.”
Riya doesn’t run hot. She gets pissed, she gets fuckin’ frigid.
That was what Derek had said.
And, well, the woman in my kitchen was ice.
Unfortunately, that just made me want to warm her up.
I moved into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, close enough that I could feel her body heat. “You might want to ease up on the perfume.”
“I’m not wearing perfume.”
“Sure you are. I think it’s called ‘Ode To Get The Fuck Away From Me.’”
I looked at her face quickly enough to see her have to force her lips to stay in a straight line. “Apparently, I need to go put on some more,” she said, raising a brow because I moved in to lean against the counter beside her, our hips touching. But she would be damned if she backed away first.
“So I made some visits today. Went to your old work. Talked to Ginny and Maryanne. Got a weird vibe off the boss, but nothing that seemed sinister. And then I made some house and work calls to Derek and Timir.”
“You… what?” she almost yelled, wrenching away from the counter so she could face me fully. “What? Why? Why would you do that?”
“To make sure they didn’t have it in for you in some way.”
“I could have told you Derek and Timir have no interest in hurting me.”
“And I could tell you that not everyone is a great judge of character, so I couldn’t take your word for it. You’ve dated a range of guys, huh? A bouncer and some hot shot marketing guy.”
“They were good men. Well,” she said, rolling her eyes. “For the most part, they were good. Derek couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”
“And Timir?”
To that, she shrugged. “He was genuinely an all-around good guy. But I met him at the wrong time, and it didn’t work out.”
“He was coming back to propose to you,” I pointed out, for reasons I didn’t care to examine.
“He what?”
“From that last trip right before you dumped him. He said he had a ring in his pocket.”
She paused, letting that sink in, and I watched as surprise crossed her face. But that was it, just surprise. She wasn’t regretful or sad. “Interesting.”
“That’s it? A man almost proposes to you, and that’s interesting?”
“It was years ago. I cared for him, but I was too distrustful and immature to really love him. My loss, I’m sure.”
“I have a couple of questions for you, actually.”
“About?”
“Chris Miller,” I said, rambling off the name that Barrett figured must have been a one-night stand.
“Oh,” she said, snorting. “Chris.”
“Who was Chris? Boyfriend?”
“God no,” she said, a big smile in place.
“No. Christ, he was… ah, well, there’s no nice way to say it.
He was a manwhore. He got around. He was hot and charming, and I was single for the first time since high school and thought I needed a fling to ‘bounce back’ from two bad relationships in a row. ”
“And?”
“And that’s it. He left work, came over to my place, we had some fun times, and he left. That went on for a couple of months before I realized it just wasn’t for me.”
“And how did he take that?”
“Oh, he was real broken up about it,” she drawled with a wry smile.
“He started screwing the girl a floor below me two nights later. We said hi in the halls until she got rid of him too, and then I didn’t see him anymore.
He’s no suspect for you, Sawyer. I’m pretty sure he couldn’t pick me out of a lineup if he needed to. ”
“Alright,” I said, accepting that. “And what about Michael Robinson?” I asked, and I saw her stiffen just before the buzzer for below went off.
I sighed, going for my wallet and heading for the door.
Whoever Michael Robinson was, he was a sore spot.
And I had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it one bit when I pressed it.