Free The Bride Collector by Ted Dekker Page B

to her mouth to cover the sound. “I’m Andrea,” she said sweetly.
    “We call her Brains,” Roudy said. “But I don’t suppose that plays any factor in your judgment, now does it? You’ve come to
     speak to me and I will decide if you interest me enough to offer my assistance.”
    “What’s the matter, Sherlock?” Allison asked, entering their flow of speech as if it was wholly to her liking. “You no longer
     trust me? I wouldn’t have brought them if I didn’t think they would interest you.”
    “True. I do trust you, madam. And they do interest me.” He toyed with his bow tie. “It was merely a figure of speech, a delaying
     tactic to put them on guard while I sought to ascertain whether my deduction was correct. So was it?”
    Brad found it difficult to suppress a grin, but he managed. “How did you know?”
    “Aha!” Roudy snapped his fingers. “I knew it! The FBI has come calling yet again. And how could I not guess? You come every
     day, begging for my opinion. Are we British really so clever? Is there something missing from the American mind that compels
     you to look across the pond?”
    The man in the silk robe was interested only in Nikki, and he’d approached her while Roudy said his piece. He now took her
     hand, lifted it while his eyes remained fixed on hers, and kissed it.
    “My name is Enrique Bartholomew. They call me Casanova. Have you heard of Casanova?”
    “Cass is a ladies’ man,” Andrea said in a voice dripping with irony. She was jittery, twisting slightly like a Valley girl
     who needed to use the bathroom. Brains, they called her. A savant?
    Still holding Nikki’s hand, Enrique faced Andrea. “Please, Brains, don’t pretend I haven’t made you the woman you are.” He
     turned back to Nikki with an even more lascivious glance. “You are very lovely.”
    A beat of silence.
    Brad smiled and inwardly gave Nikki her due; she knew how to stare down an impertinent speaker, or an awkward pause, when
     the occasion warranted.
    “They came to speak to me, Enrique,” Roudy snapped.
    “And I’m the one who told you that if you dressed the part they would believe you. Now, look who’s come to dinner.”
    He touched his lips to Nikki’s hand again, then stepped back and winked at her. Brad was surprised that she didn’t object.
     Her fear of germs couldn’t compete with her interest in a new subject.
    “Look who’s come to dinner?” Roudy said, disgusted. “They come every week, you idiot.”
    “They call me Brains,” Andrea said, in her own world, eyes still on Brad, still playing the part of a shy girl. “I think I
     need a shower.”
    The exchange had all come in a flurry of words. Then it seemed they ran out of steam.
    “Has anyone seen Paradise?” Allison asked.
    They just looked and shook their heads.
    “Looks like you three will do just fine.” She nodded at Brad. “This is Special Agent Brad Raines and his partner, Miss Holden.
     I’ll leave you alone for a while. Please be helpful, Roudy. Mr. Raines and Miss Holden are indeed from the FBI, and they would
     like to confer with you about a case.”
    “A case! Delightful.” Roudy began to pace quickly. “You’ve come to the right party, I can assure you.”
    Tears sprang to Andrea’s eyes, and it appeared that she might lose her composure. She wore some carefully applied makeup,
     and her blond hair was brushed neatly. The first encounter had happened so quickly that Brad hadn’t absorbed her simple beauty.
     On second look, there was no avoiding it.
    “It’s okay, Andrea,” Allison said.
    Andrea’s eyes darted to an empty corner. “That’s not what Betty’s saying.”
    “No. But Betty’s wrong. Listen to Brad.” She rubbed Brad’s arm. “He has a good heart.”
    Andrea gave Brad a fleeting look, brushing her nose with a shaking finger.
    “Auditory hallucination,” Allison whispered so faintly that Brad barely heard her. She was saying that Andrea heard voices.
     One of them had just