Lost and Found (13 page)

“I believe you. Vesta Briggs controlled Chatelaine’s. Something as big as a merger couldn’t have gotten to the voting stage without her approval.”

Cady wrapped one arm around an upraised knee and regarded him with a steady, troubled expression. “I think something must have happened very recently. Something that put some doubts in her mind.”

Leaning back in the chair, he thrust out his legs and regarded the tips of his shoes. “When did she change her will in order to leave you the shares?”

“The lawyer said the change was made about a week before she died.”

He looked up. “If you’re right, then whatever happened to give her some doubts about the merger must have occurred at about the same time.”

“That’s my theory.”

He swallowed some tea, managed not to make a face and put the glass down on a black coaster. “You want to find out what it was that gave her the reservations about the merger, right?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her. “Where do I come into this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to hire you to help me find out what’s going on.”

“
Hire
me?” He was so stunned by her casual announcement that for a few seconds he couldn’t get past the impact. “
You
want to hire
me
?”

“What’s so weird about that? As I said in the message I left on your voice mail, I need an investigator and you know the art business.”

“Cady, I trace and recover missing works of art. I don’t investigate murky financial situations. That’s an entirely different line of work. It sounds like you need a good accounting firm.”

“Perhaps. But Sylvia told me that the Chatelaine accountants had gone over the Austrey-Post books with a fine-toothed comb. As an added precaution, she and Vesta asked Sylvia’s husband, Gardner, to take a look at them, too.”

“Gardner’s an accountant, I take it?”

“Yes. A CPA. He owns his own business in Phantom Point. He confirmed the accountants’ verdict. Financially, things look great at Austrey-Post.”

“Financial problems can be concealed by someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Yes, but my aunt didn’t back away from the merger after she looked at the books. Her decision to postpone the vote occurred at about the same time that she made some appointments with a man named Jonathan Arden.”

“Who is Arden?”

Cady sighed. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Trust me, I’m not in a laughing mood.”

“Arden is a psychic.”

It took him a few seconds to absorb and process that information.

“As in someone who, uh, claims to have paranormal talents?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes.”

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” she said wearily. “I am not joking.”

“It’s a little hard to imagine the head of Chatelaine’s consulting a psychic. Are you sure your aunt was in full possession of her faculties there at the end?”

“Several members of the family have their doubts,” Cady admitted. “But I spoke to her on the phone a number
of times during the past few months. She seemed as lucid and clearheaded as ever to me.”

“Did she have a history of being interested in this kind of stuff?”

“Metaphysics? No.”

“Any idea why she would suddenly develop an interest?”

“No.” Cady put down her glass. “Seeing a psychic was completely out of character for her. She had no patience with fortune-tellers and psychics and the like. As far as she was concerned, they were all con artists.”

“Mmm.”

“What I’m trying to explain here is that the timing of those appointments with Arden and the decision to change her will is too coincidental to be ignored. Jonathan Arden is involved in this. I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to figure out just how he’s involved?”

“Yes. Furthermore, we need to keep your investigation absolutely quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“Only the members of my family know about the psychic thing. We have to keep it that way. The merger proposal has been postponed, but it is still very much on the table. It’s vitally important that we don’t stir up any wild speculation about my aunt’s state of mind during the past few months. That kind of gossip would not be good for Chatelaine’s or Austrey-Post. Is that clear?”

“Trust me, my lips are sealed.” She was sinking deeper and deeper into some bizarre conspiracy plot, he thought. “Look, maybe you’re coming at this from the wrong angle.”

“What other angle is there?”

“Have you considered the possibility that your aunt
left you those shares because she wanted to force you back into the family business?”

Cady shook her head once, emphatically. “She understood that I wanted no part of Chatelaine’s. She accepted my decision.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Cady hesitated. “Yes.”

He saw the flicker of uncertainty and pursued it ruthlessly. “Maybe she hadn’t accepted it. Not deep down where it counts. Founders of family-owned businesses often have very strong feelings about whom they want to inherit. If your aunt was convinced that you should return to the firm, she might have seen the shares as a way of accomplishing her goal.”

Cady glanced at the single sheet of notepaper and the key on the table. “I hadn’t thought of that possibility,” she admitted reluctantly.

“It makes a lot of sense,” he said persuasively. “If that’s the case, there shouldn’t be any big problem dumping your shares back on the family. There’s got to be some legal way for you to transfer them to your cousin or the other members of the board.”

“Probably.”

He exhaled deeply. “You’re not buying my logic, are you?”

She wrapped her arms around both knees and looked at him across the expanse of the minimalist room. “No. I think there’s something wrong and I intend to find out what it is before I make any decisions about the shares and the merger.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“The only question here is whether or not you want to take the job I’m offering.”

One of these days, he would have to learn to be careful what he asked for, he thought. He had come here today hoping to restart a prickly relationship with an unpredictable
woman. He had achieved his goal, assuming you could count a job as a relationship.

“What will you do if I turn it down?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” She pursed her lips in a meditative expression. “Find another investigator to help me check out Jonathan Arden, I suppose. I would much prefer to work with you because you’re very low profile. It’s highly unlikely that anyone in either Austrey-Post or Chatelaine’s has ever even heard of you. That kind of anonymity would be extremely useful in this case.”

“Always knew there was some advantage to being low profile.”

She said nothing, waiting.

“Why do I have the feeling,” he asked after a while, “that I’m not getting the whole picture here?”

“What do you mean?” she asked with an expression of offended innocence.

He groaned silently. She really was holding out on him. If he had an ounce of common sense he would not touch this situation with a ten-foot pole.

“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll take the job.”

“Excellent.” She gave him a brilliant smile, unclasped her knees and swung her bare feet to the floor. “Now that’s settled, we can talk about the details of my plan.”

Premonition tightened his insides. “Are there a lot of them? Details, that is?”

“As I told you, I can’t just go charging into Phantom Point with my own personal investigator in tow. Not only would it start nasty rumors about the financial status of both galleries, it would offend a lot of folks. Also, you’re going to be asking questions. Subtly, of course.”

“Hey, subtle is my middle name.” This was a mistake. He could sense the potential for disaster looming on the horizon. But he could not seem to work up the willpower to turn aside before it was too late.

“You’ll have to go in as an insider.”

“Okay. What do you intend to do? Bring me in as an employee of Chatelaine’s?”

“I considered that.” She waved the idea aside with a whisking motion. “But that wouldn’t put you into the right circles. You’ll need to be able to move in my aunt’s world. That means mingling with the people she came in contact with in the course of her daily life. Family, friends, clients.”

He watched her face, unwillingly fascinated. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been pretty focused on it since the funeral.”

“So, how do you intend to insert me into the right circles in Phantom Point?”

“Simple. I’m going to introduce you as my future fiancé.”

He stared at her for what must have been at least five seconds. He was dimly aware that it took him that long to recover sufficiently from the shock to be able to speak coherently.

“Are you serious?” he asked without any inflection whatsoever.

“Dead serious. It will put you in the eye of the storm.”

“That is not a reassuring sort of metaphor.”

“Relax, this is perfect. Just about everyone has despaired of my ever getting married again. The assumption is that I’ll end up like Aunt Vesta, you see.”

“What, exactly, is a
future
fiancé?”

“We haven’t officially announced our engagement but intend to do so soon.”

He nodded. “In the future.”

“Right.”

“In other words, we’re sort of semi-engaged?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, that certainly clears that up nicely. Thanks for the explanation.”

“Believe me, when I show up in Phantom Point with a potential fiancé, the curiosity factor will be huge. After all, I’ve just inherited a controlling interest in Chatelaine’s. People will stand in line to get a chance to check you out.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “They’ll assume that I’m marrying you in order to cash in on Chatelaine’s.”

“Precisely. You see how this will work?”

“Sure do. Everyone will think I’m marrying you for your money. Your family and friends will conclude that I’m an opportunist. A fortune hunter.”

“Okay, so it’s not great for your ego. But it’s perfect for our purposes.”

“Perfect.”

“Well?” she prompted impatiently.

“Well, what?”

“Now that you’ve heard the details, are you still interested in the job?”

He hadn’t heard all the details, not by a long shot. What was she keeping back?

“Sure.” He could be cool, too. “Not like I’m doing anything else at the moment.”

She looked relieved. “Good. That’s settled then.”

“I’ll want a contract, of course.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I never work without a contract.”

“Oh, right. A contract.”

“Just the standard one will do,” he said.

“Like the ones I signed with you when I worked for Lost and Found?”

“Yes.”

She cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh, draw something up.”

“Have you got a basic contract?”

“Well, no. I haven’t had a chance to ask a lawyer to draft one that I can use for this kind of job.”

“Swell.” He said smugly. “Why don’t you dig out the last one you signed with Lost and Found? You can borrow the basic boilerplate from it.”

“Good idea,” she said, a little too brightly.

“About my fee,” he continued smoothly.

She sat very still. “It’s negotiable.”

“No, it’s not negotiable. I’ll give it some thought on the way home tonight. I’ll have a figure for you by morning. It will be up to you whether or not to accept or reject.”

“And if I reject?”

“You can always shop around for another low-profile investigator who doesn’t mind masquerading as a sleazy opportunist.”

Some of the enthusiasm in her eyes vanished. A steely expression replaced it. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“The way I see it, it’s already difficult. I’m just trying to make sure I get fairly compensated for all the
difficulty
involved.”

“And also for having to put up with knowing that everyone will think you’re a fortune hunter, right?”

“Yeah, that, too. A man’s got his pride.”

“Hard to put a price on pride,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come up with one.” He got to his feet and started toward the door. “I’d better be on my way. I’ve got a few things to take care of at home before I start my new job with you.”

She jumped up and hurried after him down the hall. “Thanks, Mack. I really appreciate this.”

“Uh-huh.” You appreciate me so much you aren’t telling me the whole truth, he added silently.

“Do you have any other questions?”

He paused, a hand on the doorknob. “One small issue does come to mind.”

“What is it?”

“How far are we going to take this cover story of ours?”

She stopped abruptly a short distance away. “I beg your pardon?”

“This phony engaged-to-be-engaged thing. How far does it go?”

“How far?”

“Are we sleeping together?”

Her jaw did not exactly drop, but her lips parted slightly. She recovered with astounding speed, however.

“I’m sure most people will assume that we are, uh, intimate. We’ll be staying together at Aunt Vesta’s place, after all.”

“But we are not going to be sharing a bed?”

She flushed but her gaze did not waver. “Of course not. I would never sleep with one of my employees. It’s against company policy.”

“
W
hat the hell is this about Cady getting engaged?” Stanford Felgrove demanded.

Randall Post watched his stepfather tee up the ball on the sixth hole. There were two reasons why he hated playing golf with him. The first was that Stanford was a slick, smooth-talking opportunist.

Some days it took everything Randall had to pretend that he had little interest in the company that Stanford had stolen from him.

“Sylvia said that Cady and this Mack Easton haven’t officially announced the engagement yet,” Randall said evenly. “Probably waiting until Cady’s parents return from England.”

“Any idea how long she’s known him?”

“According to Sylvia, Cady says she met Easton sometime during the past couple of months but she never mentioned that she was serious about him until a few days ago.”