Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [105]
“What?”
“And, while we’re here—” Sitting on the edge of her sister’s chair, she stared into the monitor, flipped a switch, and waited for the computer to hum to life. Once the screen was glowing, she typed with agile fingers and was somehow into Mary Theresa’s calendar.
“How do you know how to access all these things?”
“Mary Theresa isn’t exactly a computer wizard. She’s always used her birth date as her access code. It just so happens to be mine, too.” She managed a fragile smile. “Remember I worked for a—”
“Private investigator, I know. I think it’s starting to haunt me.”
She was still typing, scanning private files, and sending commands. Within a few minutes the printer was spewing out information about the past month of Marquise’s life, addresses and phone numbers of her nearest and dearest, even information on projects she was working on. “Voilà,” Maggie finally said, scooping the pages from the printer. “What is it they say—a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?”
“Amen.”
Thane watched as she folded the printed pages and dropped them, along with the Rolodex, into her voluminous purse. As she started to rise from the desk, Thane heard the clank and rattle of the garage door as it engaged. “Listen.”
Maggie’s head snapped up. A huge, relieved grin widened the lips he’d so recently kissed. “She’s home!”
“Maybe.” The sound of an engine rumbled from the area of the garage, and the throb of the bass notes of a heavy-metal tune nearly shook the foundation. The music and engine stopped. Maggie tore down the hallway. She reached the door to the garage as it was flung open.
Wade Pomeranian, his long dark curls tangled and wild, his smile as eager as Maggie’s, strode into the house in five-hundred-dollar snakeskin boots, a long black-leather coat, and a cloud of marijuana smoke.
“Baby!” he cried, a grin cracking his sober features. He wrapped his arms around Maggie and twirled her off her feet. “Oh, God, it’s good to see ya! The police, everyone…they told me…I mean, shit, they all acted like you were dead or…somethin’…” His smile faded, and he set Maggie onto the floor. Looking down the hallway, he demanded, “What the hell is he doin’ here?”
Thane, irritated at the younger man’s display, felt one side of his mouth lift. “You know, that’s funny, Pomeranian,” he drawled, sizing up Marquise’s latest lover. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m not Mary Theresa.”
“Oh, shit, baby, are you fucked up again?” Wade’s dark eyes were suddenly serious as he set Maggie on the floor. He stomped a foot and turned up one hand, clawlike, shaking it toward the ceiling. “I told you to quit takin’ those damned pills.”
“I said I’m not Mary Theresa. I’m her sister. Maggie McCrae.”
For a second he didn’t say a word, just stared at her. Then it finally hit; he recognized the differences. “Oh, fuck!” He took a step backward and looked from Maggie to Thane and back again. “Shit. You…you’re a dead ringer for Marquise!”
“What’re you doing here?” Thane asked.
“I just came for some of my things and I saw your truck outside and then I saw Marquise…well, Maggie…oh, fuck!” He shook his head, and the long curls that fell past his shoulders gleamed under the light. “Jesus. You look so much like her it’s…cosmically weird. Wow.” Slightly recovering, he realized he had no place being in Marquise’s house. He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Look, I’ll just run up and grab my things.”
“Wait a minute.” Maggie hitched her head toward the kitchen. “I want to talk to you.”
“Me?” He was instantly wary. “Why?”
“Because I want to know what happened to my sister.”
“So do I,” he said readily. “But I don’t have a clue. Really.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Come on, let’s talk.”
She flipped on a switch at the entrance to the kitchen. Through the windows dusk was crawling across the land, the sky turning to lavender and the ground, where the snow still covered it, a pale shade of gray.
Though