Truth or Dare (13 page)

So much for neutral. “Are you referring to Treacher, Hull, the painter who just left or me?”

“Treacher.”

“Right.” He unfolded his arms and straightened away from the wall. “Now that we've got that settled, let's go talk about paint chips.”

16

S
ingleton looked up when Bonnie walked through the door just after one o'clock. Everything suddenly seemed a little brighter inside Single-Minded Books.

Usually he was content with the general gloom that pervaded his shop. The atmosphere suited him and his collection of old and rare tomes. Lately, however, he had become more aware of the shadows because when Bonnie came calling they seemed to lighten. It was as if she brought some of the intense desert sunlight indoors with her.

“I got your message,” she said, plunking her purse and a plastic container on the counter. “I can't believe that you actually managed to turn up a copy of that privately published history of Whispering Springs.”

“Found it on-line.” He hauled the little leather-bound book
out from behind the counter and opened it to the title page. “
A History of the Founding of the Town of Whispering Springs in the Arizona Territory
, by J. L. Creek.”

“This is wonderful, Singleton.” Bonnie bent excitedly over the small book, turning pages with great care. “I was told that the Friends of the Library have been trying to locate an original of Creek's
History
for years. Everyone is going to be thrilled. It will be a terrific addition to the rare books and manuscripts collection.”

“You're welcome.”

“How much did it cost?”

He shrugged. “Forget it.”

She looked up quickly, brows tightening. “I certainly never intended for you to donate this to the library. I realize that it must have been expensive. The Friends of the Library will reimburse you for it.”

He folded his arms on the counter. “Consider it my contribution to the community.”

She smiled. “That's very generous of you, Singleton.”

“Hey, I can do the civic-minded thing occasionally.”

“Well, I hope you will accept this slice of homemade lemon meringue pie as a symbol of the gratitude of a grateful public library.” She pushed the plastic container toward him.

“Lemon meringue? That's one of my favorites.” He popped the lid off the plastic container and inhaled the scent of freshly squeezed lemons. “Oh, man. This is one of the most beautiful sights in the known universe. Consider me repaid in full.”

She seemed pleased by his response. “Keep it in the refrigerator until you're ready to eat it.”

“Got news for you. This sucker isn't going to last long enough to get into a refrigerator.”

He reached under the counter again, found the stash of plastic forks that he had accumulated from past take-out meals and used one to take a large bite of pie.

He chewed slowly, making the experience last as long as possible.

“Ambrosia on the tongue,” he announced after swallowing.

“Thanks. You know, I never get remarks like that from Jeff and Theo. They usually just scrape the meringue off the top and try to lob gobs of it at each other before they eat the yellow part.”

“Give 'em a few years. Their palates will develop.”

“You mean there's hope that with time they will actually learn to eat like civilized human beings?”

“Don't know about eating like civilized human beings, but I've got a hunch that eventually they'll figure out the meringue is a nice culinary complement to the tang of the lemon.”

“I don't think I'll hold my breath waiting for them to figure that out but I'm glad you like the pie.” She glanced at her watch. “Is Ethan upstairs?”

“You just missed him.” He forked up another bite of pie. “He went out to Nightwinds with his interior designer.”

“Uh-oh.” Bonnie made a face. “Maybe it's just as well I got here too late to catch him. He's always a little testy before and after one of those design meetings with Zoe.”

“Zoe gets pretty edgy herself whenever they've got a meeting planned. Says Ethan is stubborn and inflexible, not to mention, cheap.”

“I know Ethan is concerned about sticking to the budget they
established, but Zoe's had a lot of experience. I'm sure she'll keep the costs down.”

He cut another bite of pie. “Don't think it's the budget thing that's really bothering Ethan, although he may be using that as an excuse.”

“What is it?”

“I told Zoe that I've got a hunch that he associates major interior design projects with his business disaster in LA.”

“And his memories of the bankruptcy are, of course, forever linked to his memories of Drew's death.” She sighed. “Add to that the fact that we recently passed the third anniversary of the day he found the place where the killer buried my husband's body, and you've got a very high-stress scenario. Maybe November was not the best month for Ethan and Zoe to start remodeling Nightwinds.”

“Probably should have waited until after the first of the year. But I think they both figured the project would be good for them. Something they could work on together. Instead, all they seem to do is argue about it.”

Understanding widened Bonnie's eyes. “Do you think maybe they're both projecting? Focusing all of their anxieties and concerns about the marriage onto the remodel project?”

“I'm no shrink, but it sounds like a possibility.”

Morosely he studied the bits of pastry that were left in the bottom of the container. Too small to get with a fork, he decided. He wondered how Bonnie would react if he licked his finger and used it to snag the last crumbs. She would probably think it was really gross.

“Ever since Drew's death, November has been a tough month
for all of us,” Bonnie said reflectively. “But I honestly thought things would be better this year. I know they were for me and for Theo. But Ethan is going through his usual mood swings and Jeff seems to be having a much worse time of it than he did last year.”

Singleton put the lid back on the plastic container with a pang of regret. “Jeff does seem to be brooding a bit.”

She nodded. “At the beginning of the month he asked me to let him look at one of the albums that contains pictures of his father. He took it into his bedroom. The other day I walked into the room and he was sitting on the bed, staring at a photo of Drew. I asked him if he wanted to talk about his dad.”

“What did he say?”

“He said no and closed the album.” She shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe the move to Whispering Springs unsettled him more than I realized.”

“They say a move puts a lot of stress on a person.”

“I know.” She paused. “But I still feel that the decision to start a new life here was the right one for all of us. We all had to get out of LA, Ethan included.”

“When you think about it, everyone in the gang came here for a new start. You, the boys, Ethan, Zoe and Arcadia. Even Harry and me.”

Her brows rose. “You too?”

“Sure. Me too.”

“What did you leave behind?”

“My wife decided that she didn't want to have children. She left me to marry another guy who understood her needs better than I did. About that time, the folks who ran the think tank
where I worked decided to increase profits by selling my services to the highest bidder, even if I wasn't interested in doing the kind of research the client wanted done.” He shrugged. “Figured that between the divorce and the bad job, it was time to leave.”

“So you ended up in Whispering Springs. That's part of what the West has always been about, isn't it? A place to start over.”

“Yep. And that's what we're all doing. We're gonna make it, too.” He handed her Creek's
History
. “Don't worry about Jeff. One of these days, he'll be ready to start over, too.”

Her fingers brushed his when she took the book from him. “Thank you.”

He nodded and watched her walk out of the shop. When the door closed behind her the shadows settled around him once more.

17

T
he creaky staircase that functioned as an early-warning system for Truax Investigations sounded its squeaky alarm shortly before ten the next morning. Ethan listened intently, playing the game he had devised of analyzing a newcomer's footsteps before the person reached the outer office. He told himself that it was good practice for a man in his line of work.

Modern ace detectives were inclined to rely too heavily on flashy gadgets and the Internet in his opinion. The old-fashioned Sherlock Holmes–style skills and methods were in danger of being lost forever.

Someone had to uphold tradition.

These footsteps were not firm, quick and light, so it wasn't Zoe. He did not hear the soft, rapid thud of sneakers that
signaled the arrival of Jeff or Theo. Not Bonnie's smooth, brisk tread, either.

A man, he decided. Steady. Decisive. The kind of guy who knew where he was going and made a habit of getting things done. Either the UPS man or a prospective client.

He wasn't expecting a delivery.

He put the yellow pad he had been using to make notes on the Kirwan case aside and took his heels down off the corner of his desk. It was not a good idea to let a potential client think that you had nothing better to do than sit around at ten o'clock on a weekday morning doodling.

His second-stage warning device, the strategically placed mirror, kicked in a moment later when a slender man walked into the outer office. He had thick gray hair cut very short. His trousers and sport shirt looked expensive. The attire was not brown so that pretty much ruled out the UPS man.

Was he an ace detective, or what?

Ethan got to his feet and went to the door of his office. The man had his back to him. He was contemplating the large secretarial desk near the window. Probably noticing that there was no secretary behind it, Ethan figured.

“I'd tell you that the receptionist just stepped out to get coffee,” Ethan said, “but the truth is I haven't hired one yet. Can I help you?”

The man swung around to face him, dark eyes cool and assessing. “You're Truax, I take it?”

“Ethan Truax.” He put out his hand.

“Doug Valdez.” Doug shook Ethan's hand with the same decisive manner he had applied to climbing the stairs.

“Would that be Valdez as in D. J. Valdez, president and CEO of Valdez Electronics?”

“Yes.”

Ethan did a silent whistle in his head. Doug Valdez was a high-profile figure in the local business establishment and this year's chair of the annual Whispering Springs Community Fund Drive.

In other words, a dream client.

D. J. Valdez was, in fact, the kind of client he had once possessed in abundance back in the old days in LA. But these weren't the old days and this wasn't LA and he no longer operated a large corporate security business that attracted clients like this.

Here in Whispering Springs this kind of client usually took his business to Radnor.

So what was Valdez doing here?

“Katherine Compton recommended you,” Doug said.

An actual, real-life referral. Life didn't get any better in this business.

“Come in and have a seat.” Ethan stood back from the door.

Doug walked into the inner room and lowered himself into one of the client chairs. He was not a large man, but contrary to Zoe's warning, the oversized chair did not overwhelm him.

Doug looked around, smiling faintly. “Just like something out of a hard-boiled detective novel. Except for the computer, maybe.”

“I inherited this office from my uncle, who opened the business several decades ago in another century. I'm afraid Uncle Victor had what you might call a highly romanticized view of the profession.”

Doug raised a brow. “You don't share that view, I take it?”

“Can't afford it. I'm trying to make a living. Such an approach to the business doesn't allow for a lot of romantic sentiment.” He went around behind his desk and sat down. “What can I do for you?”

“I've got a problem in my shipping-and-receiving room. Inventory losses have been higher than usual for the past three months. No big spikes but there is a consistent trend. My security people haven't been able to figure out what's going on. I'd like you to come in, have a look around and see if you can spot a way to close the gap in my current system.”

“I can do that,” Ethan said. “Before we talk about this any more, though, I've got a question.”

“You want to know why I didn't go to Radnor?”

“I was under the impression that Radnor designed your current security program.”

“Your impression is correct. Radnor did design it. A detailed analysis of my company's operations was carried out by a team of Radnor experts. When they were through with the analysis, they generated a very thick document that contained their findings, together with a long list of expensive recommendations that were all duly implemented.”

“I see.” Ethan waited. Sometimes if you let the silence get a little heavy, people started talking.

But Doug was not the kind of client who responded to that particular tactic. It was obvious that he was deliberating, deciding what and how much he wanted to say.

“I want to use someone from outside my organization.”

“I see.” Ethan opened a drawer, pulled out a fresh notepad
and picked up his pen. “In other words, you think someone on your security staff is involved in the shipping-room losses.”

“That's what it feels like to me. And given the fact that Radnor consulted for us when we hired our new security personnel staff, and given that they conducted all the background checks, I am not inclined to go back there to get the problem fixed.”

“What you're asking for is an audit of your security system.”

“An audit.” Doug nodded, pleased with the word. “Yes, that's exactly what I want. Maybe one lone outsider can see something that an organized team might miss, especially if that team has a vested interest in not finding any problems that would reflect badly on Radnor.”

Forty minutes later Doug wrote a check, shook Ethan's hand a second time and left the office.

Ethan saw him to the door and then went back to his desk. He sat there for a while, looking at the check. There was a very satisfying amount written on it. The Valdez job was the biggest project that had come his way since he had opened up for business.

He picked up the phone. Zoe answered on the first ring.

“Enhanced Interiors.” She was polite and professional but somewhat distracted. “This is Zoe Truax.”

Zoe Truax
. He liked the sound of that.

“Doug Valdez of Valdez Electronics just walked into my office and gave me a big, fat retainer to investigate some problems in his shipping department.”

“Ethan, that's wonderful.” The distracted quality vanished from her voice. Zoe was suddenly bubbling with enthusiasm. “Congratulations. What a coup for you.”

“I owe it to Katherine Compton. She referred him to me.”

“As well she should have,” Zoe said with heartwarming loyalty. “You did a terrific job for her, and what's more, you handled it very quietly. There hasn't been a single blip of bad publicity in the papers to embarrass her. Given that she was sleeping with that dreadful Dexter Morrow, it could have been a humiliating experience. I'm sure she is very grateful to you.”

“To tell you the truth, I did wonder if she would want to shoot the messenger,” he admitted.

“Obviously she isn't blaming you for her bad judgment. Probably why she's a successful executive. Hey, how about we celebrate? Let's go out to dinner. Not the whole gang this time. Just you and me.”

He suddenly felt even better than he had a few minutes before when Valdez had written the check. Celebrating small personal accomplishments like the Valdez deal was something real married people did.

“Sounds good,” he said. “Just one problem.”

“What's that?”

“I haven't solved the case yet.” He tapped the edge of the check on his desk. “Haven't even started my investigation. A celebratory dinner may be a trifle premature.”

“Nonsense. You'll solve the case. That's what you do, remember? So I say we go out tonight. Your treat, of course, because you're the one who just got the big retainer check.”

He smiled a little. “All right. But that means that I get to pick the restaurant.”

“Sure. As long as it isn't a pizza parlor. We eat enough pizza whenever we go out with the gang.”

“That's because Jeff and Theo are addicted to pizza. According to them it contains all the essential nutrients required to sustain life.”

“I wouldn't dream of quarreling with such expert nutritional advice, but once in a while you have to live dangerously. Let's go someplace where they give you real napkins.”

“What a concept. Okay, let me contemplate this for a while. It's a big decision.”

“Surprise me.”

He hung up the phone and looked at the check again. It felt good to be able to call his wife in the middle of the day to tell her he had just picked up an important client.

It was good to hear the enthusiasm and the certainty in her voice when she said things like,
You'll solve the case. That's what you do, remember?

Good to know that Zoe believed in him; or at least that she believed in his professional competence.

He pulled out the slender Whispering Springs phone book and turned to restaurants. It was a small community when all was said and done. The list of places where they gave you real napkins was a short one.

It occurred to him that what he was really looking for was the kind of place where you took a woman on a date when you wanted to impress her.