Lost and Found (17 page)

“Maybe. And maybe you’re letting your imagination run wild.”

“Great. Now I’m not only obsessive, I’m also the victim of an overactive imagination. Maybe I hired the wrong consultant.”

There was a short, hard silence.

“Could be,” Mack said evenly.

This was not going well. It was his fault. He had sprung this tricky conversation on her without any warning. She had hoped to work up to it more slowly.

“Hear me out,” she said quietly. “As an exceedingly high-priced freelance consultant, your job is to satisfy the client. You asked for a motive and I gave you one. I’m telling you that I think that someone who had a lot to gain from the merger may have discovered that Vesta was on the verge of killing it.”

“And killed her, instead?”

“Yes. It could have looked like an efficient way to make certain that she didn’t call off the deal,” she insisted. “The killer assumed that with her out of the picture, the proposal would ultimately be accepted by the boards of both galleries because everyone else was in favor of it.”

“As your exceedingly high-priced freelance consultant, I’m telling you that murder to ensure a merger is a real stretch.”

“But not a complete impossibility.”

“No.” He removed his glasses very slowly, folded them and dropped them into the chest pocket of his shirt. “Not a complete impossibility. When it comes to murder, any cop will tell you that nothing is beyond the realm of possibility.”

“I know it sounds thin to you.”

“Transparent.” He shook his head. “Cady, a murder investigation is even further outside my field of expertise than rummaging through the financial details of a proposed merger. If you’re serious about this, you need an experienced private eye.”

“Aside from the fact that I’ve got absolutely no evidence that points to murder, I told you, for a variety of reasons, I don’t want to bring in a stranger to ask questions. It won’t work. Not here in Phantom Point.”

He looked down into the clear, gem-blue water for a long moment and then raised his head to meet her eyes. “Tell me, why do you feel you have to find out the truth? Why is it your responsibility?”

She shrugged. “No one else will look beneath the surface. No one else even thinks there’s a problem. I’m the one who got the shares so I’m the one who has to do something.”

“Try again.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This is going to be hard enough as it is with both of us cooperating. It won’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell if you don’t start dealing straight with me.”

Maybe bringing him here had been a mistake after all. She had hired him because he was shrewd and perceptive and because he knew the murky side of the art world, a rare mix. But he was also demonstrating far too much insight into the workings of her own mind.

It was too late to make other plans. She was committed to this project and she needed him. If the price of his assistance
was an honest answer to his question, she had no choice but to pay it.

“My aunt was not a very lovable woman, Mack. She was very smart, very difficult, very imperious. A real control freak. She may have had lovers at various times in the past, but everyone who knew her will tell you that she never fell in love. The assumption is that she was incapable of loving anything except Chatelaine’s. She lived for the business. In the end the only tears shed at her funeral were mine.”

“You haven’t answered my question. Why do you have to look beneath the surface, as you put it?”

She looked out across the bay. “I think it’s because I have been told so many times over the years that I have a great deal in common with Vesta. A lot of people are convinced that I will end up just as she did. Cold and alone, with only my work.”

He watched her for a moment.

“I get it,” he said finally. “You want to know the truth about how and why she died because, deep down, you’re afraid that she represented your own future.”

“I think so. Yes.” She turned away from the view to meet his eyes. “Well? Is that enough straightforward honesty for you?”

“It’ll do. For now.”

She was afraid to relax. “Does that mean you’ll stay on the job?”

“I’ll stay.”

She took a step toward him. “Do you really think I’m crazy to suspect that my aunt might have been murdered because of the merger?”

“Whatever else you are, you aren’t crazy. Like I said, when it comes to murder, nothing is impossible.” He watched her with bleak intensity, as if he was willing her to accept what he had to say. “I’ll do what I can, but I
can’t promise anything. You may never get the answers you want.”

“Life’s like that sometimes.” She sighed. “Doesn’t mean that you don’t go looking for the answers, though, does it?”

He was very quiet for a long time.

“No,” he said eventually. “It doesn’t mean that you don’t go looking for them.”

M
ack came to a halt on the sidewalk. He looked down the length of Via Appia, the colorful boutique-and-restaurant-crowded street that ran along the waterfront of Phantom Point.

“What’s with all the banners and flags?” he asked.

“Carnival Night,” Cady said. “It takes place next week. Big annual fund-raiser for the arts here in Phantom Point. It’s supposed to be a sort of Venetian carnival with everyone in masks and costumes. They close the streets to traffic here in the shopping district. All the galleries and restaurants stay open late.”

He nodded and walked on down the pavement beside her to the entrance of a small gallery in the middle of the block. An oversized sculpture of the Nun’s Chatelaine hung over the front door.

Cady stopped. “This is the little branch gallery Aunt Vesta opened a couple of years ago when Sylvia finally talked her into semiretirement. Vesta kept an office here. My cousin Leandra runs the showroom. It specializes in late-nineteenth-century art. Not the important pictures. Those go to the San Francisco gallery.”

He surveyed the doorway. “Think this is going to work?”

“Why shouldn’t it? I’ve got the perfect excuse for spending the day going through Vesta’s office files. I’m trying to bring myself up to speed on Chatelaine’s financial situation before I decide what to do with my shares.”

“If you say so.”

She gave him an impatient look. “You said you wanted to go through her private files at the house. Swell. Great idea. I have no objection. But this was her office. We need to see if she left anything behind here that will tell us why she was backing away from the merger. I’m the only one who can do that without risking a lot of questions.”

“Fine. Go for it.”

Cady made a face. “You think it’s going to be a waste of time, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve got a hunch your cousin Sylvia has already gone through your aunt’s desk. Be the logical thing for the CEO to do. It’s what I would have done if I’d been in her position.”

“Maybe.”

He started to feel a little guilty for being so negative. “But then again, it might be worth a shot. After all, your cousin apparently isn’t asking the kind of questions you’re asking, so she wouldn’t have looked for answers.”

Cady brightened. “Right. My point exactly.”

She opened the gallery door before Mack could offer any further advice.

He followed her through the opening into a small showroom filled with atmospheric paintings of the Victorian era. Dark portraits, brooding landscapes and a selection of highly romanticized Arthurian themes dominated the offerings. Most of the frames were heavily carved and gilded.

An attractive, pleasantly rounded young woman with dark hair and vivacious features put down the book she had been reading. She rose from behind a small desk.

“Cady. Heard you were in town. Good to see you again.”

Cady hurried forward to exchange hugs and air kisses.

“Leandra, I’d like you to meet Mack Easton. Mack, this is my cousin Leandra Briggs. She was Aunt Vesta’s personal assistant. Vesta always said that she’d be lost without her.”

“Fat chance,” Leandra said cheerfully. “Aunt Vesta could have run both branches of Chatelaine’s single-handedly and would have done so right up until the end if Sylvia hadn’t managed to talk her into semiretirement. Our great-aunt was amazing.”

“So I’ve been told.” Mack glanced at the title of the book on the desk. He wondered how hard it was to break the bad-boy habit, whatever the hell that was. “How long have you been with Chatelaine’s?”

“Since my divorce eighteen months ago.” She grimaced good-naturedly. “Things were a little rough financially for a while. My ex wasn’t what you’d call real great with money. He racked up a lot of bills during our marriage and I got stuck with most of them. Aunt Vesta bailed me out and then created this job for me.”

“Nice of her.”

Leandra laughed. “I would have said that she did it out of the kindness of her heart, but everyone will tell you that she didn’t have a heart.”

“I’ve heard that theory,” Mack said.

“It’s not true,” Cady said with instant loyalty. “Vesta loved Chatelaine’s.”

Mack and Leandra both looked at her. Neither said a word.

Cady sighed. “Okay, maybe that’s not much of a tribute. But I think she had a heart. She just didn’t show it to the world.”

“Hard to believe that she’s gone,” Leandra said wistfully.
“It was so sudden, you know? Can’t imagine this place without her. Every morning when I arrive to open up, I expect to see her in her office. She was always here before me. Always the last one to leave.”

“She certainly made Chatelaine’s a respected institution,” Mack said.

“That’s for sure,” Leandra responded. “So, how long will you be staying here in Phantom Point, Mack?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He looked at Cady. “Maybe indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?”

“Depends on Cady. I’m a business consultant,” he said smoothly. “I can set up shop anywhere.”

“Business consultant, huh?” Leandra tipped her head to the side. “What kind of business?”

“On-line,” he said. It was amazing how any reference to an internet-based business cut off a lot of potentially awkward questions.

“Cool,” Leandra replied. “Hey, are you one of those super-rich software types who made a killing when you took your company public?”

“No. Unfortunately, the kind of information I broker doesn’t lend itself to an IPO.”

Leandra blinked. “IPO?”

“Initial public offering,” he clarified. “The kind that sometimes makes people very rich, very fast.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

He grinned. “Yeah. I’ve been saying that a lot lately myself. Too bad.”

“Randall wants to take the new Chatelaine-Post Galleries on-line,” Leandra said. “He says there’s a lot of room for growth there, especially when it comes to art and antiques.”

“He’s right,” Mack said neutrally.

Cady moved to the doorway of a small office. “If you’ll
excuse me, Mack. I’d better get to work. I want to take a look at some of the quarterly reports and files before I sit down with Sylvia to go over the merger proposal.”

“Sure,” Mack said. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied. Thought I’d do a little sightseeing in town.”

“There are several great little cafés and bistros and shops here on Via Appia,” Leandra offered helpfully.

“Thanks.” Mack looked at Cady. “I’ll pick you up here after work and walk back to the villa with you. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll get something today while I’m out.”

She looked first surprised and then grateful. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He crossed to where she stood, bent his head and kissed her before she realized what he intended. He felt her stiffen when his mouth closed over hers.

He raised his head before she could figure out how to react.

“See you after work, sweetheart,” he murmured, amused by her disgruntled glare and icy smile.

They both knew she could not complain about the kiss. It was all part of the act. A part she had not anticipated and for which she had obviously not made allowances.

Feeling a good deal more positive about the world in general than he had a few minutes ago, he walked out of the little gallery without a backward glance.

“
S
o that’s your Mr. Easton.” Leandra dropped into a small chair on the opposite side of the desk from Cady. “He looks…interesting.”

Cady picked up her mug of tea. It was strange to find herself sitting here behind Vesta’s old desk. It was also weird to think of Mack as her Mr. Easton.

“Interesting?” she repeated carefully.

“You know, not flashy or slick. But interesting.”

“He’s definitely interesting,” Cady agreed. Also exasperating. And aggravating. And irritating.

“Solid,” Leandra continued reflectively. “There’s a real solid feel to him. Know what I mean?”

Solid was certainly one way to describe Mack, Cady mused. But she did not think she wanted to pursue the nuances of that particular definition with her cousin.

“I think so,” she said instead.

Leandra drummed a set of cherry-red acrylic nails on the desk top. “So, when’s the big day?”

“What big day?”

“Come on, Cady. The wedding, of course.”

Cady felt her cheeks grow hot. Better get used to the question, she thought. “We haven’t officially announced our engagement. Can’t think about a firm date for the wedding until we’re actually engaged.”

“You know, that sort of surprises me,” Leandra said with a disconcertingly thoughtful mien. “I always figured that if you ever got married again, you’d do it the same way you did with Randall. Just jump right in, you know?”

“Jumping right in with Randall did not turn out to be a smart way to go,” Cady reminded her. “I had to turn around and jump right back out. I’d rather not go through that routine a second time.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way about Parker. He’s started hinting that he’d like to set a date but I guess I’m a little gun-shy after the huge mistake I made with Dillon.”

Cady sat back in her chair and regarded her cousin more closely. “Are you and Parker Turner that serious?”

“It’s serious, all right. He’s perfect for me. But before I make a commitment to him, I feel it’s only fair to make sure that I’ve broken this habit I’ve got of falling for the wrong kind of men. Guys like Dillon. You know, bad boys.”