“Why does that matter?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Diem doesn’t act gay.”
“Except he is, Darcy. He’s as gay as me. Maybe you need to stop judging people by the way they look and talk and act.”
“You do it.”
“Do what?”
“Judge people.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You judge me.”
“That’s different. I’m judging your pissy attitude and petulant behavior, not your sexuality. And for the record, every time you make those comments, you sound homophobic.”
“I’m not.”
This was a battle I wasn’t in the mood to fight. Instead of arguing in circles, I turned back to the three-story white stone mansion across the street. It sat on a slight rise with generous windows, a multi-peaked roof, an arched French-door entrance, and a winding flagstone path that passed through raised garden beds still in winter slumber. A mature maple stood sentry on the front lawn. During the summer, it would provide decent shade. In March, the buds had only begun to form.
The sun reflected off the windowpanes, making it impossible to see inside, but for no logical reason at all, I sensed no one was home. The house had a vacant feel about it, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.
My attention moved to the sloped driveway that ended at the door to a lower-level, single-car garage. Without blueprints, I couldn’t determine how big the space beyond was, but it was hard to believe it would accommodate the man’s four luxury vehicles.
“Why are we just sitting here?” Darcy asked.
“I’m thinking.” And because I was sick of butting heads with the brat, I shared my thoughts aloud, hoping it would win me points or steer us in a new direction. “This is Lukyan’s biggest personal property. The other being his penthouse in Eglinton Park. Otherwise, he owns investment properties. Commercial plots and buildings he’s remodeling. I did research this morning and learned he owns four luxury vehiclesanda boat.”
Darcypffed. “Must be nice.”
“Right? He rents dry storage at a marina, so that would be where he keeps the boat when it’s not in the water, but what is he doing with his four fancy cars?”
I motioned to the garage. “He can store one here. Two,ifthe space beyond is accommodating, but I highly doubt it. Most condos,including high-priced ones with penthouses, would include an underground parking spot for a fee. He could perhaps pay for two slots, but I somehow doubt the owners would allow more. Even so, who in their right mind would park multiple vehicles all worth more than one hundred thousand dollars in a publicly accessible lot? Even if the building had decent security and restricted access to residents.”
“No one.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe he leaves them at one of his investment properties?”
I considered. “Not a bad thought. Let’s see.”
I reached into the back seat for the iPad and my notebook. Darcy leaned over the middle console as I searched Lukyan’s properties one at a time. I wanted to drive around to each, but this would tell me where to begin.
First, I studied the overhead satellite view to get a feel for the buildings in question, then I switched to a street view and examined their exteriors.
None of them yielded the results I was hoping for.
“What kind of cars does he have?” Darcy had dropped the attitude and seemed genuinely interested.
“The Bentley, which he drove when he picked you up last night. A Maserati, a Jag, and an Aston Martin.”
“Fuck. That guy must have a small dick.”
A laugh burst out of me unexpectedly. “A fine assessment. We can ask him the next time we see him.”
Darcy smiled for the first time, and the hostility between us came down a few degrees.