“As somebody who might know something,” she said, “and I’m not above using whatever assistance there is.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Down on Main Street, as in an hour ago.”
“Interesting location,” Kate said. “Any idea where he is?”
“Why?”
“He lives in the False Creek North area.”
A whistle came through. “So he has money?”
“Yes, remember the charlatan part?”
Jennifer chuckled. “You don’t like anybody in that field.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I don’t like anything about it or him.”
“But, then again, that doesn’t make him a conman.”
“Maybe not,” Kate replied, “but I don’t trust him.”
“Or you don’t trust yourself?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Hardly the issue at the moment.”
“Maybe. Are you following him now too?”
Kate crossed the street to flag a cab and to head to the same area. “I wasn’t, but, because of the way he is acting, we should keep a close eye on him. I’m tempted to go down there myself.”
“What would that tell you?” Jennifer asked.
“I don’t know,” Kate said. At the moment, not exactly an easy question to answer.
“If you want to watch…”
“As long as I don’t get in the way, I know,” Kate said. “I’m likely to head down too.”
Off the phone, she looked around. Instead of finding a cab, she saw an approaching bus, which would take her downtown. She hopped on and got off when she hit Granville Street. It was a Thursday evening, and lots of people mingled around the downtown area, with its several movie theaters, lovely little restaurants, late-night pubs and bars. It was a great time to be in Vancouver.
Unless you were a little boy.
And unless you were a pedophile, she hoped, because a lot of people were out looking for these perverts. She sent Jennifer a text and gave her the location.Where is the tail?
Heading south, down to the Pacific Centre.
On it, Kate typed. She adjusted her route toward the direction she’d been given. When she passed the Pacific Centre, with no sign of Simon or anyone else, she quickly checked in again.
He’s gone into the mall, Jennifer replied.
Interesting.She frowned. She looked around, wondering at the sense of eeriness, as if she too were being watched. That was often the case with the cat-and-mouse game that occurred whenever she was tailing somebody. It often seemed like she was being tailed too. With someone like Simon, she wouldn’t at all doubt it. Something was, although she hated to say it, almost otherworldly about him. Something weird in those silvery-gray eyes.
A guy shouldn’t have eyes like that, nor should he have those long lashes. Most women she knew would love to have those lashes naturally, instead of opting for the bother and the expense of extensions. His complexion was also smooth too; he woke up beautiful with no effort at all. She hated him for that.
How come men could get up and just be perfect, with no makeup, no curlers or irons or whatever the hell? And she bet he never had to endure a five-product facial regime. She was always so stressed by the demands of her job that at least one zit was coming up somewhere on her face. She didn’t give a shit where it was though, just that it hurt. She did the standard scrub and wash before bed and, in the morning, just got up, brushed her hair after a shower, braided it, and she was out the door.
She didn’t have time for the forty-minute rigmarole that so many women did. Her friend Zoe had told Kate that it only took ten minutes, but, when Zoe showed Kate how that ten minutes went, it ended up being twenty-five. Her friend smiled and said, “With time it gets faster.”