Free The Eternity Key by Bree Despain

button and play the message out loud. “So it turns out there are eight dealerships that sell Ducatis between here and Redondo Beach. I emailed you a copy of the list. I only had time to make it out to the closest one.… And this is going to be harder than I thought. I even flashed around my dad’s black AmEx and said I was trying to buy him a special birthday present, and I couldn’t get anyone to give me the time of day. It doesn’t help that most of the sales staff are female. Anyway, got to get to my Pilates class. Talk at you tomorrow.”
    I delete the message and rub my hands over my face, forgetting they’re wet and dirty until it’s too late.
    “I’m guessing teenagers aren’t worth their time,” Haden says.
    “That’s what I thought,” Tobin says, kicking a pile of dirt.
    “I can give it a try,” Dax says. “Clean me up enough, and I could look like an up-and-coming starlet.”
    I crook a smile. “Starlets are girls … but that gives me an idea.…” It just involves bringing in the one person I was hoping to leave out of my life at the moment.
    I dial Joe.
    “Daphne?” he asks. “What’s wrong? Where have you been? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
    “Nothing is wrong,” I say, realizing with a pang of guilt that Joe thinks that’s the only reason I would call him on my own accord. “I do need your help with something, though. How much do you know about motorcycles?”
    “Not a bleeding thing. But my drummer has one.”
    “How do you feel about looking into one for me?”
    “Um … I guess. What kind did you have in mind?”
    “A black Ducati Superbike 1199 Panigale.”
    Joe sounds like he’s choking on his own spit. “Right, I knowenough about motorcycles to know that your mum is going to kill me if I get you one of those.”
    “It’s not for me. It belongs to your new bass player—or at least the one you want to hire.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “We have a theory that the Motorcycle Man may have recently bought his bike from one of the nearby Ducati dealerships. I’m thinking that if
the
Joe Vince goes swaggering into the dealership looking to find the name and address of someone who purchased a black Ducati Superbike in the last three months—say, because you recently saw that person play at an open mike night and you want to hire him for your band, but all you got was the make of his motorcycle, and you just happened to be offering a finder’s fee—they might be more willing to give his personal information to you rather than a bunch of teenagers.”
    “Sounds like a decent theory,” Joe says, his voice much brighter now. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
    I tell him that I’ll send him the list of dealerships, and then hang up the phone, hoping he means it, because this shot may be the only one we’ve got left.

chapter eight
HADEN
    It takes four days to visit all eight of the dealerships before Joe is able to procure the information that we need. He calls me as I am leaving Ethan Bowman’s latest lecture on Greek art. I watch Daphne walk away, pretending she does not know me for the sake of Terresa and Calix, before I duck into a restroom to answer the phone.
    “Between all the dealerships, five black Superbikes have been sold since September. Two went to a movie set, one a supermodel bought for her boyfriend, another was bought by someone replacing a bike with an insurance claim, and the fifth, get this, was sold to an overly chipper man who somehow talked the manager into a discount so mad that he later got sacked for it. Remind you of anyone we knew?”
    “Simon?” I say. “However, we know for sure he wasn’t the Motorcycle Man, so that means they must have been working together.”
    “Simon had the bike delivered to a luxury condo complex at the edge of Olympus Hills. I’m guessing our Motorcycle Man was the recipient.”
    “Did you get a full address?”
    “I had to agree to give the saleswoman—who wants to be anactress—an