Diesel looked over at me. “Does that turn you on?”
“No! It scares the bejeezus out of me. Aren’t you worried?”
“No, but I’m hungry.”
CHAPTER NINE
We retrieved Carl from Diesel’s apartment, got takeout pizza in Marblehead, and brought it back to my house. Diesel hung sheets and towels over my kitchen windows so no one could look in, and we propped the painting up against a wall.
“It’s nice,” Diesel said, working his way through a piece of pepperoni with extra cheese, “but it’s just branches and flowers to me. I’m not seeing any clues.”
“Reedy thought you had to believe in true love to see the clue.”
Diesel took another piece of pizza. “I’ve gotta be honest with you. I don’t even know what true love means. If it wasn’t for John Lovey living in the nineteenth century, I’d think the whole true-love thing was invented by Disney.”
I’d been staring at the painting for a half hour and I didn’t see any clues, either. I looked at it up close, and I looked at it far away. I looked at it with one eye closed. I examined the back. Nothing. But when I touched it, I felt the energy.
“Do you see a clue?” Diesel asked me.
“No.”
“Hunh,” Diesel said.
“What’s hunh supposed to mean?”
“Looks to me like I’m not the only one who’s cynical about true love.”
I sunk my teeth into a piece of pizza. “I’m starting to think John Lovey was a nut.”
Diesel gave a bark of laughter and took a long pull from his bottle of beer.
“Eeh?” Carl asked, pointing to the pizza box.
Diesel gave him a second piece and cut a slice off for Cat.
“Do you want me to help read through the papers you took off Reedy’s desk?” I asked Diesel.
“No, but thanks. I left them in my apartment. I’m going to spend the night here watching the game and guarding your body.”
“How much of the night are you talking about?”
“The whole night. All of it. And then some.”
This was a real dilemma. I didn’t want another Wulf encounter in the middle of the night, but I also didn’t want a Diesel episode in the middle of the night.
“The whole night might not be a good idea,” I said. “It’s, you know, awkward.”
That got another smile. “Afraid you can’t keep your hands off me?”
“It’s not my hands I’m worried about.”
“Better my hands than Wulf’s hands,” Diesel said.
“That’s true, but it wasn’t the answer I was hoping to hear.”
The game was in overtime when I went to bed. I brushed my teeth and went with the least seductive outfit I could find . . . a lightweight T-shirt and black Pilates pants. I crawled into bed, and Cat took his position at my feet. I shut the light off, and heard Diesel on the stairs.
“Bruins won,” he said, coming into the bedroom, carting the Van Gogh with him.