Chapter Two
Before I left Blaine’s palace, he dredged up a photo of Melissa. It was her high school senior photo, so she might have dyed her hair or who-knows-what during the past five years. In the photo, her mousy-brown locks were brushed back from a perfect oval face that featured full lips and her father’s green eyes.
Blaine also gave me copies of articles about B & K Developers, including one with a full-color photo of Blaine and Slava Kandinsky sitting side-by-side. Kandinsky had longer legs, knees sticking out at awkward angles compared to his shorter partner’s. He had a swarthy complexion and eyes that gleamed like wet tar.
I left the house, crossed a driveway leading to a three-car garage, slipped into my blue Fiesta, and fired it up. I lowered the windows to let the warm, earl
