Thread: A Vision In Blood (Miss Eleanora and Mr. Quixotic)

Speaking before I think is an ingrained habit that's hard to break. Lyle grinned in return, glad that the comment hadn't offended Elizabeth. Her laughter was refreshing, considering the circumstances and the content of the previous conversation, and although the words were half-apologetic, the way his lips remained curled up in a smile and his eyes didn't waver from hers made it obvious that he wasn't totally sorry he'd said what he had. She was attractive and intelligent and that were subjects they disagreed on was, to Lyle, a positive rather than a negative. If only his ex had shared his penchant for treating intellectual argument and debate as foreplay. When the conversation returned to its serious note, the humour in Kyle's expression faded. He followed her gaze back to the images that he'd momentarily allowed himself to forget about, and nodded in agreement, A case like this attracts the ghouls and the crazies, and I presumed you'd want to keep those away from your gallery. I don't think they're the type most likely to purchase your wares, and the media are the worst of the lot, they'll suck every last drop of blood out of you that they can. Maybe that's where we should look for our killer. A brief smile flitted across his face at the joke, before Elizabeth's yawn and subsequent explanation reminded Lyle that he'd taken up enough of her time. Stepping in behind her to follow Elizabeth to the exit, Lyle glanced around the store, which hadn't seen a customer since he'd entered, wondering what had kept the woman up so late. Ms Rescorae didn't appear the party animal type, but then one never knew, particularly when it came to artists. Or she could be one of those who worked best or was at her creative peak in the early morning hours. As they crossed the gallery, he trailed a hand across a few of the pieces and peered back at them when they passed, attempting to picture what other people saw in them. He still hadn't figured it out by the time they reached the exit. Thanks for your cooperation. It was a pleasure to meet you Elizabeth and despite the circumstances and our artistic differences, I've a feeling we'll work well together. Lyle waved goodbye and had one foot out the door, before her surprise question caused him to stop mid-stride. He turned back to face her, a contemplative expression on his face, and composed an answer which was mostly truthful. I simply googled art galleries and was drawn to the name. Crystalline memories, something about it attracted me. Not to mention, most of the Bureau's consultants are retired elderly men who only offer assistance to keep their pretentious egos fed. You could say I'm biased against that type so the clincher came when I saw the owner was a young woman who'd offer a fresh perspective. Lyle shot her a companionable smile. I hope that answers your question. Goodnight Elizabeth, I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. The woman remained in his mind, as did the case, when he entered the SUV. There'd be no sleep for Lyle that night, first he'd call in at the morgue to speak to the coroner, then continue on to the lab and check if any progress had been made on potential tyre track matches between the dumping grounds, before he stopped at the office for a debrief with Jarrod and to grab the files. After that, he'd pick up some takeaway Chinese and a bottle of scotch and spend the remainder of the evening at home searching for anything the original investigators at missed. At eight in the morning, as soon as Alice Ryan was due to commence her shift, Lyle planned to be waiting with a coffee and muffins as the opening salvo in his attempt to charm her into releasing the originals of the prints to him, and complete the bureaucratic red-tape afterwards. At least he had Elizabeth's company to look forward to in twenty-four hours or so, if he managed to remain awake and alert enough to engage in coherent conversation.