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“I hope you’re getting some better applicants than this one,” Claudia said, taking a seat. She opened her briefcase and withdrew the handwriting analysis report she had prepared on Lillian’s candidate. “He’s someone I wouldn’t have recommended for you.”

Lillian’s perfectly penciled eyebrows lifted a fraction before they settled into a frown. “His references are impeccable; what’s the problem?” Claudia passed her the report, noticing Bryce Heidt’s well-scrubbed face beaming from a glossy brochure on Lillian’s desk. He stood in the midst of a crowd of factory workers in his hand-tailored suit. A photo from his recent senatorial campaign, she guessed. This was the man being considered for an appointment to the president’s committee with Lillian Grainger.

What would Lillian say if she knew about Heidt’s fun and games in Lindsey’s desert dungeon?

“You can read the details later,” said Claudia. “I’ll just give you a summary. He has some good qualities of course, but he has a lot of hidden resentment toward women. The potential problem is, if he has to work under female supervision... which would be you... and if you didn’t see eye-to-eye on something, he’s going to undermine your authority, or he’ll instigate a
major
blowup. There are some other things, too, but that’s the big one.”

Without a word, Lillian laid the report on her desktop and leaned forward to read it, her mouth pulling into a tight little moue.

Claudia tried not to fidget, but her mind was filled with too many disturbing thoughts for her to sit quietly and wait for Lillian to respond. She crossed and re-crossed her legs, wanting to get up and pace the long room, to dissipate some of the energy that had been building.

When Lillian finally glanced up from the paper, she was nodding. “Claudia, you’ve really saved our bacon on this one. This is
exactly
the kind of information we need.”

“I recommend that you don’t make hiring decisions based on the handwriting analysis alone, but I think you’ll find it confirms whatever other background you do on him.”

Lillian turned her eyes skyward. “My lord, can you imagine what might’ve happened if we’d hired this guy and he turned out to have a murky past! The confirmation hearings are right around the corner... everything could have been ruined.
Resentment toward women.
That would be the absolute worst! I can’t have anyone in my camp that’s going to be a problem.”

Claudia’s glance fell on Heidt’s brochure again.

Should I tell her?

Would it compromise the investigation to let Lillian know that Heidt was being looked at by the police in Lindsey’s death? Heidt himself was aware, so it wouldn’t exactly be spilling the beans. Besides, it might lead to further revelations about the senator that would prove helpful to Jovanic’s investigation.

Claudia cleared her throat. “Without getting into specifics, Lillian, I think you ought to know that Senator Heidt may be in for some public embarrassment, if not worse.”

Lillian gave her a sharp glance. “What are you talking about?”

“It has to do with Lindsey. She was using a certain videotape to blackmail him.”

Claudia quickly realized she had made a serious tactical error when Lillian jumped to her feet, her small face pinched and pale with shock. “Bryce Heidt... Lindsey...
blackmail?
That’s insane! A story like that could
ruin
him if it got out.”

“Don’t kill the messenger, Lillian,” Claudia said. “We were talking about potential scandal, so I thought you’d want to know.”

Lillian plopped back down in her chair, looking as if she’d bitten into a Hershey bar and found a worm. “I don’t believe it. There
has
to be an explanation.” Her fingers drummed an angry little dance on the desktop. “It’s utterly ridiculous. What on earth could she have blackmailed him with? Bryce Heidt is a devoted family man. We attend the same church. He was at last Sunday’s service with his grandchildren, for pity’s sake!”

The lady protests a bit too much.

“Let’s just say that what he did wasn’t illegal,” Claudia said, closing her briefcase. “But it was of a nature that could come back and bite you.”

The woman whose cool head and southern charm had built an empire in the celebrity event business actually wrung her hands as she worked herself into a tightly controlled frenzy.

“He’s on his way to the White House!” Lillian’s voice rose to a higher pitch. “He can’t afford even the
breath
of scandal.”

And denial is a river in Egypt.

The truth was, Lillian couldn’t afford a scandal any more than Heidt could. Yolande Palomino had made that abundantly clear. Any political hopes she might be nurturing could be on the line if it turned out she had allied herself with a soon-to-be pariah. “I’ve sacrificed too much to have it all go down the drain over vicious gossip,” Lillian said in a tight voice as she pressed the intercom button on her phone. “Yolande, get my husband on the line, then see Ms. Rose out.”

“Just give me a moment to put this call through,” Yolande said, as Claudia closed Lillian’s door, glad to be leaving behind the electric tension that crackled in her client’s office.

“Don’t bother, I know the way by now.”

The executive assistant gave her a thin smile as she picked up the receiver and began to punch buttons with a long, slender finger. “Not at all. I’ll be happy to see you out.” Something in the way she said it suggested that the escort wasn’t optional.

After connecting the Graingers’ phone call, Yolande walked Claudia back to the foyer. She stopped suddenly as they approached the reception area. “I felt so bad about Lindsey,” she said unexpectedly. “She was such a... an interesting person.”

Claudia’s ears perked up. “Did you know her well?”

“We had coffee a few times when we were helping her with events for her clients. They were the big celebrities, so Mrs. Grainger always handled them herself. That gave us a chance to talk some.”

“Talk about...?”

“Oh, this and that. Personal things, mostly.”

How personal?

“Have you heard the rumor?” Claudia plunged in, throwing caution aside. “Some people don’t believe she killed herself.”

“I’ve heard something about it.”

“What do
you
think?”

Yolande’s eyes turned away, looking everywhere but at Claudia. “I have... some thoughts.”

“I’d like to hear them. How about meeting me for coffee later?”

“No!” Yolande said sharply, her shoulders bunched with tension. Keeping an eye on the receptionist, who was watching the exchange with obvious interest, she lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “I mean, Mrs. Grainger wouldn’t like it. She has to be very careful about her image. Everyone around her has to be absolutely above reproach. She wouldn’t want her name connected to any kind of scandal, like if Lindsey’s death were... you know.”

“Yes, we just had that conversation. But we’re not talking about Mrs. Grainger, we’re talking about you.”

“Well, it extends to her employees and she’s very strict about it. Everyone who works here signs an agreement not to do anything that will reflect badly on Mrs. Grainger or the company. You know, like get involved with drugs or... or, sleep around or anything. She only hires churchgoing Christians.”

“But this is an entirely personal matter; nothing to do with her business.”

“Nothing here is considered personal.” Yolande smiled. “You look shocked, Ms. Rose. Don’t be; it’s our own choice. None of us is
forced
to sign the agreement, but if we want to work here, we sign it.”

Claudia rearranged her face into a more neutral expression. She wouldn’t get anywhere by criticizing this woman’s employer. “Yolande, if you have some information about Lindsey’s death, don’t you think you’re obligated to bring it forward?” The woman shook her head emphatically, her dark eyes intense. “I don’t. I mean, I don’t have any information. Just... just some thoughts about it.”

“I’m sure you’d feel better to get them off your chest, whatever they are.”

“Ms. Rose, I’m raising four kids on my own. I need this job. I can’t... I can’t risk it.”

Yolande took her past the reception desk in silence and accompanied her out to the elevator. Something was on her mind and Claudia wanted to know what it was. She stepped reluctantly aboard the empty elevator car feeling frustrated at her inability to break through Yolande’s defenses. She punched the Lobby button, but Lillian Grainger’s assistant abruptly thrust her hand between the elevator doors as they started to close. As the doors reopened, Yolande leaned in and spoke rapidly,
sotto voce
. “You need to check out Mexico.”

Before Claudia could respond, the woman turned on her heel and practically ran back into the Grainger’s offices. Through the narrowing space left by the closing doors, Claudia saw the receptionist pick up the phone, her eyes following Yolande as she hurried past. Coincidence? Or reporting the conversation to someone?

Lillian as Big Brother? The idea made her smile. Then she turned her thoughts to what Yolande had said.

Mexico. Now, why did that sound familiar?

On the drive home, Claudia phoned Jovanic and caught him at his desk, munching a taco. She reported on her conversations with Lillian Grainger and Yolande Palomino.

“Mexico, huh?” he mumbled, the tortilla shell crackling as he bit into it. “Lindsey had some accounts in the Caymans, but I haven’t found any references to Mexico. You got any ideas about that?”

“I’m not the detective, Detective.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“Maybe after this case, I’ll think about changing careers.”

There was a grin in his voice when he answered. “Okay, Claudia, I admit it, you’ve been a big help. Now, how about those boxes of Lindsey’s sitting in your living room? I need to pick them up. Maybe there’s something in there.”

“Come on over; you’re welcome to them.”

“I thought maybe you’d get started without me. You’re so good at that.”

Next, she dialed Zebediah’s number.

You just had to know the right people to ask.

“Mexico?” he repeated. “Lindsey had a time-share there. She went down pretty regularly.”

“What did she do there?”

“What do you think she was doing in Zi-wha, sweetie? She went to have fun.”

“Zi-wha?”

“That’s what the locals call it. It’s really Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo, but they just say Zi-Wha.”

“You enjoy saying it, don’t you?”

“It sort of trips off the tongue, don’t you think?
Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo.
It’s about a five hour flight from LA. Pretty exclusive, but not as touristy as Puerto Vallerta.”

An unpleasant memory flashed a warning. She didn’t have to remove his letter to Lindsey from her safe and re-read it to remember the opening line:
“Mexico was a huge mistake.
”

“Did you ever go with her?” Claudia asked, afraid of his answer.

“I went once, a couple of years ago, but I have no idea who else she might have taken. She was pretty quiet about the place.”

At least he wasn’t denying it, she thought with a surge of relief. “Do you think she might have been hiding something about it?”

“Mmmm.” At the other end of the line, Zebediah paused to reflect on the question. “Maybe. Yes, I think maybe she was being a bit secretive. If something was good, she’d spread it around.”

“So, maybe it was something
not
good she was doing down there. What do you think? Drugs, money laundering, white slavery? Come on, doc, you’re the headshrinker... give it up... tell me what you know.”

Zebediah gave a sly chuckle. “I love it when you get tough with me, darling. But sadly, I have no idea. She certainly never showed me a dungeon while we were there. I never knew she had one in the desert. Too bad.”

“Zeb, what do you really think was going on?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, sweetie, maybe she had a married lover and didn’t want anyone to know.”

Claudia turned the possibility over in her head. Mused about it aloud. “A married lover? She was never one to hide that sort of thing before.”

“But what if her lover were a U.S. senator?”

“Heidt was a client, not a personal relationship.”

“Bostwick told you Lindsey had a new boyfriend. I wonder if he was real, or just a good story to cover his own ass.”

“That’s the million dollar question.”

Ending the call, Claudia made the decision to re-examine every piece of paper that she and Kelly had gone through before Jovanic removed the boxes. Maybe they had missed something.

She turned west onto Jefferson Boulevard toward the ocean. The north side of the road into Playa del Reina was flanked by wetlands whose endangered status made them the subject of semi-regular protests by the ecology-minded. On the south side, above the wetlands, condos and houses clung to steep cliffs on flimsy-looking stilts.

Few cars were on the road in the cloudy mid-afternoon. As she steered the Jag onto the ribbon of highway that ran past Ballona Creek and would take her into town, Claudia felt suddenly drained. She wanted nothing more than for the case to be resolved so that she could return to life the way it was before she had become involved in Lindsey’s affairs. Ironic that without Lindsey, she wouldn’t have met Jovanic.

Wrapped in her thoughts, she failed to notice the small white truck that pulled alongside her until the other vehicle slowed and was almost even with the Jag.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed the truck’s passenger window being lowered and wondered if the driver was going to ask for directions.

Then she glanced over and saw the gun.

In a fraction of the time it takes for conscious thought to register and process panic, Claudia stomped the accelerator to the floor. Tires squealed and the Jaguar sprang forward, as graceful as its namesake.

The sound of two loud reports; a hot spray of powdered glass that left the smell of heat in the air.

The white truck tried to come alongside her again, but was outclassed by the Jag’s powerful engine.