Free The Hammett Hex by Victoria Abbott Page A

a little bit robbed of a moment.
    He looked so downcast that I started to feel bad for him, but really, springing an engagement on a girl? Not cool.
    We walked along toward the intersection where we could get the streetcar, without either of us saying a word. Just as we got close, I said, “You never told me about any cousins.”
    â€œI never met them. They’re on Gram’s husband’s side.” I was surprised to see him grin. “I never had anyone, no brothers and sisters, no cousins. This is really good news.”
    We were both only children. My only cousins were in distant branches of the Kelly family, although you could say that Uncle Kev was like a perpetual child. I’d been the center of my uncles’ lives. I wasn’t sure I’d have liked having competition from cousins. As annoyed as I was, I decided to let Smiley enjoy his new-found semi-relatives.
    â€œTomorrow, we will go back and see your grandmother and you can find out more about them. As it’s so important, I’ll continue to be your fake fiancée.”
    He stopped abruptly, just as the streetcar slowed. “I’m kind of worried about that Zoya. I don’t trust her.”
    I stopped too. “I hear you, but I then I don’t usually trust people who tell me to go away and never come back.”
    â€œCan’t say I liked her much either.”
    â€œShe didn’t seem to want us to like her, but maybe that’s her way of protecting Gram. Who knows what kind of relationship they have behind closed doors.” I thought of theinfinitely complicated power dynamic between Vera and the signora back at Van Alst House.
    â€œOn the other hand, perhaps she didn’t want us hanging around because things are not right with Gram.”
    â€œYou mean because Zoya’s taking advantage?”
    â€œMaybe. Are you worried?”
    By this point the streetcar had come and thundered by. “We may as well find out,” he said. We trudged the long way back to the faded gray and mauve home.
    The drapes were closed in the front windows this time. Smiley rang the bell. We waited. He rang again after a couple of minutes. Nothing. He hammered on the front door. I felt a bit of panic and expected a matching emotion from him, but I suppose his inner cop was taking over. He leaned down and opened the mail slot. He bellowed. “Open up! Police.”
    It was true enough in its own way.
    Zoya did not materialize. Neither did Gram. But the little pug raced along the hallway and continued to run in circles barking.
    â€œShe might be asleep,” I said. “She
is
quite elderly and—”
    â€œAnd Zoya? Where is she?”
    Of course, I’d thought of that. In other circumstances, I might have thought that the caregiver might have settled her patient into bed and then dashed out for an errand. There didn’t seem to have been enough time for that. But what if Zoya had gone out and now Gram might hear the racket from the little dog and come downstairs (or out from wherever she was) and stumble, fall and then there’d be heartbreak. I touched Smiley’s sleeve and said, “Either she can’t hear us. Or she can’t get to us.”
    He scowled.
    â€œYou’d need a warrant to go in, I suppose,” I said, thinking I could read his mind. “And you’re not here on a case.It’s personal. So I don’t think you should try to kick the door in.”
    This time it was a glower. “Of course I wouldn’t do that. But what if something’s happened to her?”
    I sighed. “Maybe I can help. It would be better if you weren’t in on it, though.”
    â€œGo ahead. We’ll just say that the door wasn’t locked. Zoya can try to talk her way out of that one.”
    â€œI can’t believe you actually said that. You’re the one who’s the stickler for proper procedure and not breaking the—”
    It goes without saying