Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4), Matthew Hattersley [best book club books for discussion .TXT] 📗

him another wink before perching ladylike on the edge of the grand couch. The corridors in the sprawling complex carried the sound well, so she could follow his footsteps as he continued down the hall and took a left back towards the front entrance.

She gave it another beat before getting up and moving quickly to the window. With the bright lights in the room and the outdoor floodlights trained on the property, it was difficult to properly determine which direction she was facing. Her best guess was this part of the house faced north, towards the sea. If that was the case, Danny was positioned behind a small copse of trees up to her left. She hoped he could see her as she gestured out into the blackness of the night, opening her purse and turning it upside down before miming the time-honoured sign of a phone, shaking her head and drawing a finger across her throat.

No phone. They took it.

It wasn’t the best start to the mission, but one they had considered. In this scenario, Danny would move with her around the property as best he could. He knew the layout of Delgado’s place well enough. Knew the spots they were likely to go – this room, the reception area, maybe the dining room, and hopefully Delgado’s office where the eggs were on display. Acid squinted out into the darkness and gave a last curt nod before moving back to the couch as footsteps reverberated down the corridor towards her. They were wide strides, slow and measured, but purposeful. A moment later Luis Delgado entered the room, throwing his arms wide before gliding over to her and grabbing her offered hand in both of his.

“Gabriella Goldstein,” he boomed, over-egging the pronunciation. “Welcome to my home.” He held strong eye contact as he spoke, before reaching down and kissing her hand with wet lips.

“Thank you for having me. It’s wonderful to be here,” she told him, retrieving her hand and wiping it surreptitiously on the hip of her dress. “I was, of course, admiring your wonderful collection.”

“The San Miguel. What do you think, seeing it now in front of you?”

They both turned to take in the painting. “It’s breathtaking,” she gasped. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Not the only presence in the room that takes one’s breath away.” He leaned against her. “This dress you are wearing, the way your hair falls down over your shoulders – bella.”

“Why, thank you.” She turned to take him in, smiling as she raised her champagne flute to her lips. “I need to keep an eye on you, you charmer.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Maybe I need to keep an eye on you also, Ms Goldstein. And what a name you have.” He went at it again, giving each syllable a real flourish. “Gabriella Goldstein. I have never heard such a wonderful name. A wonderful name for a wonderful woman.”

He laughed, and so did Acid, despite the chill rushing down her spine. Because she’d noticed something just now that had sent her instincts spiralling. It was a blink and you’d miss it moment, a slight twitch at the corner of one of Delgado’s eyebrows. But with her senses heightened, on full alert, she’d clocked it. Tension. Anger, even.

“As I say, it was my Spanish grandmother’s name. I’ve always liked it. She was a good woman. Strong. Like me.” At that moment she didn’t know who she was most trying to convince.

Delgado stared at her for a few moments more. The look on his face, she recognised – him trying to get a read on her. “Would you like a tour of the rest of the property?” he asked.

“Oh yes. That would be super,” she purred, glancing out the window. “I bet you have many fine pieces in your private collection. I’d love to see them.”

He smiled, his dark eyes crinkling up at the corners. “And I would love to show you them. Come, my office is the closest. We shall start there.”

Forty-Five

Acid’s eyes landed on the ornate golden egg the moment she entered Luis Delgado’s impressive office through two huge double doors. Although calling it an office was really a misnomer. The space was bigger than most people’s apartments and more like a bijou art gallery than a place of work. In fact, the only concession to it being an office was a large leather-topped desk opposite the doors, decked out with a ubiquitous Apple Mac and an antique banker’s lamp.

“Oh my,” she exclaimed, gliding over to the huge walnut display cabinet standing to her left. “Is that… a real Fabergé?”

Delgado joined her at the cabinet. “You have a good eye, Ms Goldstein.” He picked up the egg with no hesitation and held it to the light. “The Hen with Sapphire Pendant. An incredibly rare piece. Lost for generations.”

“I’m aware. How did you come to own it?”

Smiling, Delgado placed it back on its round metal plinth. “I’m afraid I can’t reveal my sources, Ms Goldstein. Not to other dealers, even ones as beautiful as you.”

“I understand,” she replied, then moving along the cabinet and pointing to an empty plinth a few feet away, “Oh, what happened to this one?”

“Another Fabergé. Another rare piece. But it is currently… elsewhere.”

She turned to him, noticing the tension in his jaw was even more pronounced. “Oh dear. I would have liked to have seen it. Is it far?” Despite the way Delgado was staring at her, she kept her face open, her eyes inquisitive.

“Not far,” he said. “In fact, I have someone bringing it back to me this evening.” He moved to the couch and sat, shaking his head as he did so. “You see, it was stolen from me.”

Acid remained where she was, not taking her eyes off him. “Stolen? From your house?”

He nodded, a grave expression on his face. How a hammy actor might signal disappointment. “It was someone who worked for me. Who I thought I could trust. Can you believe this?” He sighed. “You cannot