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ELIZABETH
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I LOOKED THROUGH MY window and saw a man and a woman getting out of a black Acura and walking toward my door.
Azem Nimmani and his assistant, Lily Falconer.
They were arguing while walking from the car to the house, casting furious looks at each other until I opened the door and greeted them. They both quickly collected themselves and grinned at me.
Azem was a tall man in his late twenties, with blond hair, light blue eyes, and a broad smile. Lily was tall and slender, with dark hair and exquisite hazel eyes. Her expression was curious but friendly.
Their hostility toward each other was superficial. These two were in love with each other. Their mutual attraction was almost palpable. The air around them seemed to be ionized with sexual energy.
I smiled back at them. “I’m Elizabeth,” I said and extended my hand. “Please come in.”
The afternoon passed in comfortable companionship. We had a light supper, then sat in my living room talking about the Baker Block project. I was pleased when Azem told me he’d like to meet with Lottie and the other members of the Save the Cosmo! Committee. There was no reason anymore to keep Khalid’s involvement buttoned up: Urban Imprint, the first bidder, had withdrawn its tender.
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THAT EVENING WE WENT to Lottie’s place for dinner. Dr. Prentice, Andy, Sam, Molly and little Jacob were already there when we arrived.
I was seated between Azem and Lily. I was dying to ask Lily about Khalid but couldn’t think of a way to formulate my questions to make them sound casual. Then, to my relief, she initiated a conversation about him. At least indirectly.
“How much do you know about antique furniture?” she asked.
“I don’t often restore furniture, but I know a great deal about it.”
“Are you a certified art appraiser?”
“I am. Why are you asking?”
She first glanced at Azem and then turned to me. “I have to make an inventory of, er, Mr. Nouri’s antique collection.”
Almost invisibly, Azem’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t say anything, but he kept his gaze on Lily. Tread carefully, his eyes seemed to say.
“Yes, he mentioned it. He’d like to have it appraised,” I said, glancing first at Lily then at Azem. What was going on here?
Lily ignored Azem’s non-verbal messages. “Let me tell you a bit about Mr. Nouri’s place. He lives in a Queen Anne revival house.” She smiled. “I think it’s gorgeous, but Mr. Nouri calls it the ‘tinselhouse.’”
I chuckled. “The Queen Anne style can be heavy on decorative features.”
“It’s more because of its interior,” Lily said, explaining that Khalid had bought the house as-is, antique furniture, accessories and art included. Most of it was from the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth-century Europe. He wanted to get rid of all of it; it wasn’t his style. “He asked me to do an inventory. I need to know what’s valuable, what’s not. I was wondering if you would help me with it.”
“If you send me photos, I can give you a general idea, but to evaluate it, you’d need to bring in an expert.”
“It can be arranged,” Lily said.
“What does Mr. Nouri plan to do with his collection?”
“Sell some of it; hold a public auction with the rest and donate the money to the city.”
How nice. “It shouldn’t be difficult to get a good price,” I said. “Original Baroque and Rococo furniture is so popular these days. It’s trendy to combine old and ultra-modern.”
“You should mention it to, er, Khalid. There are some beautiful pieces there.”
Here we were again.
Since Azem and Lily had arrived, I’d been picking up funny vibes I couldn’t put my finger on. First, I was sure there was an almost unnoticeable delay every time Lily mentioned Khalid’s name. Maybe she addressed him by his first name in private, and now she was uncertain how to refer to him in front of me: Khalid or Mr. Nouri. Maybe.
Then, the way Azem sometimes looked at Lily when I asked her about Astrid, Ahmed, Rowena, all of whom had, one way or another, a role in our story. He’d turn his blue gaze on her, smile and listen carefully to her answer as if he was afraid she’d say something she shouldn’t.
Okay, I decided, let’s see if I’d been imagining things.
I was so thrilled with my instant plan my heart skipped a beat.
I looked up at Azem. He seemed to be deep in conversation with Sam Wakefield. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned toward Lily and said, “May I ask you something? Do you know why Astrid Canagan had a nightingale floor put into her house?”
Lily’s eyebrows arched. “What’s a nightingale floor?”
Hmm. Her response was genuine but too quick. She seemed puzzled either by the sudden change of subject or by the question itself.
From the corner of my eye, I monitored Azem. He didn’t flinch.
Drat. My clever psychological test had failed—the results were inconclusive.
At that moment Lottie peeked in from the kitchen. “Elizabeth, dear, I need you to help me with the cake.”
“A nightingale floor is a safety device, from feudal Japan,” I said. “It makes a sound when you walk upon it.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know,” Lily said.
Oh, really. “Never mind,” I said and stood up. “I was just curious.”
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WE ALL SOON MOVED TO the living room for cake, coffee and more wine. Andy was snapping pictures with his phone. “This is a historic meeting, man,” he said. “It should be recorded. We’ll put the photos in the future Cosmo archive file.”
“Can we get them, too?” Lily asked.
“Sure. I’ll forward them to you,” Andy said. He typed Lily’s number into his phone.
When no one was looking, I beckoned him to come closer. “Don’t send anything before I see them,” I whispered.
He gave me a quizzical look.
“Just in case you caught me chewing or with my eyes half closed.” The thought of Khalid looking at some idiotic photo of me was horrifying.
He winked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Around ten o’clock the guests started departing. Azem and Lily walked me home and then continued to their hotel, a few blocks from my house.
I wondered if they’d booked one room or separate rooms.