Free Key Trilogy by Nora Roberts Page A

“Who painted it?”
    “It wasn’t signed, not that I could see.”
    “Then how do you know it’s a masterpiece?”
    “Because I know . It’s what I do. Whoever painted it has an amazing talent, and a great love and respect for the subject matter. That sort of thing shows. And if they’d wanted to hurt us, why didn’t they do something last night, when we were all there? Dana was there, alone with them, before I arrived. Why not bash her over the head and chain her in the dungeon, then do the same with me, with Zoe. Or drug the wine? I’ve already thought about all that, already asked myself all the questions. And I’ll tell you why. Because they believe everything they told us.”
    “And this eases your mind? Okay, who are they? Where do they come from? How did they get here? Why did they come here? This isn’t exactly Mystic Central.”
    “Why don’t you find out instead of scaring people?” Dana demanded as she returned.
    “Is Zoe okay?” Malory asked her.
    “Sure, she’s just great now that she has visions of somebody using her kid as a human sacrifice.” She punched Flynn in the shoulder.
    “Hey, if you didn’t want somebody to point out the flaws in the plan, you shouldn’t have had your party at my place. So, tell me everything you know about this Rowena and Pitte.”
    He took more notes, managing to hold back any scathing comments on the lack of information.
    “Anybody still got the invitation?”
    He took the one Malory pulled out of her bag. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
    “Did your grandmother’s story say anything about where the keys were hidden?”
    “No, just that they couldn’t be turned by the hand of the gods. Which leaves a pretty open field.”
    Flynn waited until Malory left, then crooked a finger so Dana would follow him into the kitchen.
    As rooms went it was a sad statement, with its ancient coppertone appliances, white-with-gold-speckled countertops and fake-brick linoleum floor.
    “When are you going to do something about this room? It’s awful.”
    “All in good time, my pretty, all in good time.” He got a beer out of the fridge, wagged it at her.
    “Yeah, why not?”
    He got out a second, popped the tops on the wall opener that was in the shape of a bikini-clad blonde with a toothy grin.
    “Now, tell me what you know about the very sexy Malory Price of the big blue eyes.”
    “I just met her last night.”
    “Uh-uh.” He held back the beer. “Women know stuff about women. Like telepathically. The more a woman likes or dislikes another woman, the more she knows. There have been several scientific studies to verify this phenomenon. Give, or no beer for you.”
    She hadn’t particularly wanted the beer, until he’d used it as a hammer. “Why do you want to know about her specifically? Why not Zoe?”
    “My interest in Zoe is more academic. I can hardly start the wild and passionate affair I have in mind with Malory until I know all her secrets and desires.”
    “You’re going to make me sick, Flynn.”
    He merely tipped up his beer, took a long, slow sip, while holding hers out of reach.
    “I’m not your silly dog who’ll beg for cookies. I’m only going to tell you so I can sit back and laugh derisively when she blows you off. I do like her,” she added and held out a hand for the beer. “She strikes me as smart, ambitious, open-minded without being naive. She worked at The Gallery, just got canned over a dispute with the owner’s new trophy wife. Since Malory called the new wife a bimbo, to her face, I’d say she doesn’t always rate high on the tact and diplomacy scale, but calls ’em like she sees ’em. She likes good clothes and knows how to wear them—spends too much on them, which is why she was broke before this morning’s windfall. She’s not currently in a relationship and would like to own her own business.”
    “You really buried the lead.” He took a long, slow sip. “So, she’s not dating anyone. And she’s gutsy.