Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [593]
I stared at the couple and that tall, tanned teenager, and hoped they were dead because the thought of any of them up in that hospital room turned into so much pain and meat was . . . not a comfy thought. I didn’t speculate. They were dead, and that was comforting.
I turned my attention from the photos to the Indian artifacts lining the shelves. Some of it was touristy stuff: reproductions of painted pots in muted shades, too new to be real; Kachina dolls that would have looked just as at home in a child’s room; rattlesnake heads stretched in impotent strikes, dead before their murderer opened their mouths to appear fearsome.
But in among the tourist chic were other things. A pot that was displayed behind glass with pieces missing and the paint faded to a dull gray and eggshell color. A spear or javelin on the wall above the fireplace. The spear was behind glass and had remnants of feathers and thongs, beads trailing from it. The head of the spear looked like stone. There was a tiny necklace of beads and shells under glass with the worn edges of the hide thong that bound them together showing. Someone had known what they were collecting because every piece that looked real was behind glass, cared for. The tourist stuff had been left out to fend for itself.
I spoke without turning around, staring at the necklace. “I’m no expert on Indian artifacts but some of this looks like museum quality.”
“According to the experts it is,” Ramirez said.
I looked at him. His face had gone back to neutral, and he looked older. “Is it all legal?”
That earned me another small smile. “You mean is it stolen?”
I nodded.
“The stuff we’ve been able to trace was all purchased from private individuals.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Show me,” I said.
He turned and started walking down a long central hallway. It was my turn to play follow the leader though I gave him more room than either he or Norton had given me. I couldn’t help noticing how nicely his dress slacks fit. I shook my head. Was it the flirting, or was I just tired of the two men in my life? Something less complicated would have been nice, but part of me knew that the time for other choices was long past. So I admired his backside as we walked up the hall and knew it meant nothing. I had enough problems without dating the local cops. I was a civilian surrounded by police, and a woman, too. The only thing that would earn me less respect in their eyes was to date one of them. I would lose what little clout I had and become a girlfriend. Anita Blake, vampire executioner and preternatural expert, had some ground to stand on. Detective Ramirez’ girlfriend would not.
Edward trailed behind us, but far enough back that we were at the far end of the hallway when he was barely in the corridor. Was he giving us privacy? Did he think it was a good idea to flirt with the detective, or was any human better than a monster, no matter how nice the monster was? If Edward had any prejudice, it was against the monsters.
Ramirez stood at the end of the hallway. He was still smiling as if he were giving me a tour of some other house for some other purpose. His face didn’t match what we were about to do. He motioned to the doors to either side of him. “Artifacts to your left, gory stuff to the right.”
“Gory stuff?” I made it a question.
He nodded, still pleasant, and I moved closer to him. I stared into those dark brown eyes and realized that the smile was his blank-cop face. It was cheerful, but his eyes were just as unreadable as any cop’s I’d ever seen. Smiling blankness, but still blankness. It was unique and somehow disquieting.” Gory stuff,” I said.
The smile stayed, but the eyes were a little less sure. “You don’t have to play the tough girl with me, Anita.”
“She’s not playing,” Edward said. He’d finally joined us.
Ramirez’ eyes flicked to him then back to study my face. “High compliment coming from you, Forrester.”
If he only