Sharp Edges (25 page)

"Forget it, Eugenia. Leave this to me. You've done more than enough today. If you keep blundering around the way you did this morning, you'll blow the whole case apart before we find out anything useful. Let me have a crack at this. It's what I do, remember?"

"Are you afraid that if I ask too many questions about Nellie, I'll screw up your search for the Hades cup?"

He tightened his fingers around the unyielding metal with such force he wondered that he did not punch holes through it. "Your lack of faith in me does not bode well for a good working relationship."

"Our relationship works just fine, if you ask me." She turned the key in the ignition with a crisp, irritated motion. "I know exactly what you're after, and I know exactly where I stand with you."

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm not the only one with a separate agenda here."

Fire flashed in her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're willing to sleep with me, even though you don't trust me. I'd like to know why."

"Why you—" She broke off, rendered momentarily speechless by outrage. "Don't you dare tell me that you believe I'm sleeping with you because I think it will make you more… more cooperative."

He clenched the car roof as if he could hold the vehicle in place with sheer muscle. "Then why the hell
are
you sleeping with me?"

She gave him a very dangerous smile. "I thought you had already answered that question to your own satisfaction. You're the one who came up with the theory that I'm sexually obsessed with you, remember?"

"I still like the theory, but I think there may be a few holes in it."

"Brilliant observation. Tell me, Mr. Holmes, how did you arrive at that dazzling deduction?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Somehow, I don't see you sleeping with a man you don't trust, even if you are sexually obsessed with him."

"No, no, no, my dear Holmes, you've got it all wrong." She snapped the shifter into reverse. "I might make the mistake of sleeping with a man I couldn't trust. Any woman could make that sort of mistake."

"Yeah?"

"Damn right. But I sure as hell would not have an orgasm with him."

She trod hard on the accelerator. The Toyota roared into reverse. Cyrus unclenched his fingers very quickly and stepped back before his shoulder was wrenched out of its socket.

"Try not to make me look any worse than I already do, Quint." Cyrus spoke into the phone as he negotiated the narrow, winding strip of blacktop that led back into town. "I have to tell you that so far Colfax Security has not left a terrific impression on Ms. Swift."

"Don't worry, we'll find Price. Stredley's on his way to Seattle even as we speak."

"Too bad we haven't got the Seattle office open yet."

"We can cover this out of Portland, Cyrus. Don't worry about it."

"Let me know as soon as you've traced her."

"Got it." Quint paused. "Sorry about the foul-up this morning."

"Forget it. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It won't."

Cyrus hesitated. "Anything new on the ZEC file?"

"Chandler's investigator left Second Chance Springs yesterday. Looks like he's on his way back to L.A. By now he knows that Jessica Colfax had a baby thirty-five years ago. It won't take him long to trace you."

"I've been thinking about this," Cyrus said. "There's only one logical reason why Chandler would suddenly decide to look for me after all this time. He's concluded that I'm somehow a threat to his election chances."

"What would make him think you've suddenly become a danger to him after all these years?"

"Maybe someone's blackmailing him."

There was a short, hard silence on the other end of the line. "You're the only one in a position to blackmail him, and we know damn well you aren't doing that."

"Someone else may have stumbled onto the truth and decided to use the information," Cyrus said.

"Maybe. But not real likely. You know, it doesn't sound like you're having a really great vacation, boss."

"Whatever gave you that idea? I'm having a wonderful time. Remind me to send you a postcard." Cyrus hung up the phone.

I might make the mistake of sleeping with a man I couldn't trust. But I sure as hell would not have an orgasm with him.

Cyrus concentrated hard on the convoluted logic in Eugenia's enigmatic statement. The effort proved frustrating. The best he could come up with was that she trusted him up to a point. Like until he found the Hades cup.

He could live with that, he decided. For a while.

He was still pondering the complexities of Eugenia's thinking patterns when he reached Frog Cove. He refocused his attention on finding a parking space. It was not hard.

He pulled next to the curb in front of the Neon Sunset Café and leisurely got out of the Jeep. A glance at the dock told him that the ferry carrying Rhonda Price away from the island had already departed. He could see the outline of it on the horizon.

He turned and walked into the café. The young, ponytailed waitress was busy serving lattes to two tourists. He remembered that her name was Heather. She smiled at him as he took a seat at the counter.

"Be with you in a second," she called cheerfully.

He waited patiently until she was free to take his order.

"I remember. Just plain coffee, right?" she asked when she came back around the end of the counter.

"Right. I'm not real big on all those fancy coffee drinks with espresso and milk in them." He glanced at the heap of pastries stacked beneath a clear plastic dome. "Those doughnuts fresh?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Sort of."

"I'll risk one."

"Okay." She whisked off the plastic dome. "Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He was not in the mood for a doughnut, but he had learned long ago that, for some obscure reason, people were more inclined to chat with you if you had food in your mouth. He selected a plain one and took a bite.

"Where's your friend?" Heather asked casually as she poured coffee. "Thought I saw her earlier."

"She was doing some shopping. But she had to go back to Glass House. My nephew is visiting."

She brightened. "Is he that really cute guy that got off the ferry yesterday afternoon?"

Cyrus smiled around a mouthful of doughnut. "You see everyone who gets off the ferry, don't you?"

"Can't miss 'em."

"Did you see Rhonda Price this morning?"

"Uh-huh. But she left again on the last ferry."

"Didn't stick around long, did she?"

"No." Heather set the coffee mug down in front of him. "Kind of sad."

"What was sad about it?"

"Well, he was here, y'know? He saw her drive off the boat, and he waved and all, but he couldn't get her attention as she drove past. And now she's gone again."

"Someone was here, waiting for her?"

"Jacob Houston. The glass artist, y'know? I feel kind of sorry for him in a way. He really cares about her, but she just treats him like a friend. You can see it tears him up inside."

Some days the information came more easily than others, Cyrus reflected. He wondered if Jacob Houston had known that he had smashed his own work of art.

He also wondered if Houston's sense of protectiveness toward Rhonda Price had led him to shove Adam Daventry down a flight of stairs.

That was about as likely a possibility as the other scenario he had been thinking about lately. That was the one in which Nellie Grant had faked her own death in order to disappear because she had killed Daventry.

There suddenly seemed to be a lot of suspects in a murder that was supposed to have been an accident, he thought.

Eugenia was still fuming when she walked into the mirrored atrium hall. She was irritated with Cyrus, but furious with herself. The orgasm crack had come out of nowhere. What in the world had possessed her to say such a thing?

Cyrus had a very weird and unpredictable effect on her temper, she thought. In the future, she would have to be more cautious.

"Rick?" She paused at the foot of the staircase. "Where are you?"

"Up here." His voice drifted down from the second floor. "Is Cyrus back yet?"

"No. He stopped in town." Eugenia put down the grocery sacks and climbed the stairs. At the second floor she turned and walked along the balcony, following the sound of Rick's voice. "I bought the makings for black bean tacos. Okay with you?"

"Sure. Get some chips and salsa, too?"

"Naturally." She came to a halt in the doorway of the library. "What are you doing?"

"Helping Cyrus."

Rick was seated cross-legged in front of a lateral file drawer. He was poring over the tabbed file folders. There was a pen and a notebook on the floor beside him.

"How are you helping Cyrus?"

Rick looked up. "I'm going through some of these files for him. Making notes of what's in them. He said it would save him some time."

"I see." She walked farther into the long room. "You're creating an index of the contents of the files?"

"You could call it that. Cyrus gave me a list of the kind of stuff he's looking for."

"He's really determined to find the Hades cup, isn't he?"

"Are you kidding? After what happened three years ago, he'll do anything to find the cup. And his ex-partner."

Eugenia sank down slowly onto a window seat. "You must have been about fifteen when Cyrus's wife was killed."

"Uh-huh. Cyrus didn't talk about it very much, but you could tell it hit him hard. Mom told me once that she thinks he feels responsible for Aunt Katy's death."

"Because he failed to protect her?"

"Something like that. But it wasn't his fault. Some carjacker shot her in cold blood. They never found the guy. Cyrus was in the hospital at the time. There wasn't anything he could have done to save her."

"No," Eugenia agreed. "There wasn't anything he could have done."

Katy had betrayed Cyrus. In doing so, she had put herself in harm's way, Eugenia thought. But Cyrus would not rest until he had seen justice done.

Eugenia knew that she had to accept that nothing was more important to Cyrus than tracking down Damien March. He was obsessed with finding the near-mythical Hades cup because he believed it would help him accomplish that goal.

Rick shifted position to open another file drawer. "You and Cyrus known each other long?"

"No, not long."

"Just wondered." Rick kept his eyes on the files. "He seems sort of serious about you."

That news startled her more than anything else that had happened that day. "How can you tell?"

"I dunno. Just something about the way he talks to you."

"The way he
talks
to me?"

"Yeah. You know, sort of normal."

"You're losing me here, Rick. What's normal with Cyrus?"

Rick paused in his filing. His brow creased in concentration as he struggled to explain. "For as long as I've known Cyrus he's always been kind of quiet around most people. Not quiet in a shy way, but in a listening, waiting sort of way."

She thought about her first impression of Cyrus. Remote, detached, but very aware of his surroundings. "I think I know what you mean."

"When he does talk, he's always real cool."

"Cool as in always in control?"

"Yeah. In control." Rick appeared pleased by her quick uptake. "He never loses his temper. Even when he's really, really pissed, he's cool. In fact, the way you know he's mad is because he just gets colder. Mom says he needs to get in touch with his feelings."

Eugenia thought about the depths of fierce, vital emotion she had glimpsed on rare occasions in Cyrus's eyes. And then she remembered the molten green heat she had seen in his gaze when he had made love to her. "Hmm."

"Cyrus says that just because a man doesn't burst into tears every time he hears some dippy sad song doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings."

"I'll go along with that."

"Cyrus says a man has a right to privacy when it comes to that kind of thing."

"Okay, I'll buy that, too."

Rick nodded, satisfied. "You have to know Cyrus pretty well to be able to tell when something's bothering him."

"I don't know about that. He seems pretty obvious to me."

"That's what I meant when I said he was different with you. He seems more relaxed or something."

"Think so?"

"Yeah." A contemplative look crossed Rick's face. "He even teases you. He never teased Aunt Katy."

"I see." Eugenia was not sure she wanted to hear a lot about Katy.

Rick sat back on his heels. "It's been a while, but I remember how he was with her. Always calm and careful. Like she was made of glass."

"You mean he was gentle with her?"

Rick nodded. "Mom says Katy was fragile. Delicate. She needed someone to lean on. But with you, Cyrus is different. I'll bet he could lose his temper with you."

"He never lost his temper with your aunt?"

"Never. At least, I don't think he ever did. Mom says he was a rock for Aunt Katy, and he's been a rock for her since Dad—" Rick broke off abruptly. "Well, you know."

"Yes," Eugenia said. "I think I do."

"I went a little crazy right after Dad divorced Mom. Got into a lot of trouble. One night the cops picked me up at a wild party. Mom fell apart. She didn't know what to do. So she called Cyrus."

"And he took care of things."

"Yeah. After that, he was just always around." A reflective look appeared in Rick's eyes. "I never thought much about it. But now when I look back, I realize how much stuff we did together. He took me camping. Got tickets to ball games. Sat in the stands with Mom when I competed on the swim team. Helped me learn how to drive. Just sort of hung out with me a lot."

"Sounds like he stepped into your father's shoes for a while."

"I guess he did." Rick exhaled deeply. "I shouldn't have blown up at him just because he made Dad come to my graduation."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe back in the beginning it was okay for Cyrus to protect you. But I think you're old enough to take care of yourself now, don't you?"

Rick glanced at her quickly and then looked away. "I know he was only doing what he thought was best, but I don't want him trying to fix things for me the way he did when I was younger. I'm not a kid anymore."