Sharp Edges (38 page)

Eugenia held her breath. "What's that?"

"I let Katy go a long time ago. But that didn't mean I could forget about Damien March. Two different things, even though they were linked. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. Old emotions are one thing. Justice is another matter altogether. Just because the first had faded didn't mean you could ignore the second."

He drank from the beer bottle and then set it down with great precision. "You're a highbrowed, fancy-talking museum director. How come you understand me so well?"

"You left out intuitive. I'm a highbrowed, fancy-talking,
intuitive
museum director."

"I thought your intuition only worked with art."

"Trust me, Colfax, you're a real work of art."

He did not smile. "So you figure it's this intuition of yours that makes it possible for you to understand me?"

"Well, no, I don't think that's the real reason I sometimes comprehend you."

"What's the real reason?"

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. "This is important to you?"

"Yeah. It is."

She chose her words carefully. "I suppose it's because, deep down where it counts, we've got a lot in common."

His expression lightened briefly. "I wasn't sure you had figured that out."

So it was not the past or the Hades cup that had pitched him into this strange mood. It was their relationship that occupied his thoughts. She did not know whether to be relieved or more anxious than ever.

She waited in an agony of suspense, but Cyrus lapsed back into brooding silence. When she could stand it no longer, she cleared her throat.

"Was there something else you wanted to say?" she asked gently.

"Yeah."

Here it comes
. She was suddenly dangling over a cliff above a very deep river. If he said good-bye and told her it had been fun she did not think she could be held responsible for her actions.

Cyrus gazed at the beer bottle as if it were a crystal ball.

If he said he saw no long-term future for the two of them, she would launch herself across the table, rip off his aloha shirt, and tear it into little pieces.

Cyrus took another swallow of beer.

If he said nothing at all, she would go crazy.

Cyrus poured more beer down his throat.

Eugenia crumpled her napkin in her fist. She started to get mad. Here she was, suffering untold agonies of suspense, and he was sitting there, drinking beer, completely oblivious to her pain. It was not fair.

She had been right back at the beginning, she thought, fuming. He was not her type. There was no way she could have fallen in love with this man.

Fallen in love.

She closed her eyes. Lord, that was exactly what she had done. She had fallen in love with a man who wore loud aloha shirts and liked to hang bland seascapes over his fireplace. A man whose eyes glazed over when she discussed art.

It was too much. It was all she could do not to throw herself down on the floor and pound her fists in frustration.

She opened her eyes and took deep breaths. "Lucky for you, I am a sophisticated woman who would never make a fool of herself in public."

Cyrus cocked a brow. "Huh?"

Eugenia thought about kicking him under the table to see if it would jump-start the conversation.

"Well?" She was shocked by the thread of breathlessness in her voice. "What was it you wanted to say?"

"March was blackmailing Zackery Elland Chandler."

"
What?
" Wine splashed on the table in front of her. Hastily she set the glass down and tried to reorient herself. So much for her incredible intuition. She pulled herself together with a heroic effort. "You're sure?"

"Quint found a whole file devoted to it on March's computer. The name of the file was 'Shadow.' "

She recalled the briefcase Cyrus had quietly concealed in her hall closet when he heard the sirens. He had opened it for a moment, just long enough for her to glimpse the black metal object inside. Later, in the busy chaos that had followed the arrival of the police, she had forgotten about it.

"No wonder you didn't mention the computer to the police."

"I couldn't take the chance." Cyrus looked at her with a steady gaze. "I didn't know what would be on the hard drive. When March said something about old sins casting long shadows, it hit me that he could be the blackmailer."

"You kept quiet to protect your father, didn't you?"

Cyrus shrugged. "March is dead. No one needs any more evidence against him."

"What happened to the computer?"

"After Quint erased the Shadow file, he arranged for the cops to find it.

"Why not just toss it into Elliott Bay?"

Cyrus looked at her. "Because, among other interesting tidbits, the files contained the names of the two goons who searched Rhonda's and Jacob's cabins."

"How in the world did you figure out that March was blackmailing Chandler?"

"Process of elimination. He was one of the few people in the world who could have known that Chandler was my father. I never told him, but Katy must have."

"I see." She thought about that. "Who else knows that Chandler is your father?"

"Quint Yates, you, and me."

She stared at him. "That the whole list?"

"Yeah."

A rush of warmth went through her. He had confided the biggest secret of his life to her. That had to mean something.

"Other people may know now," she said carefully. "The private investigator your father hired, for one. And the lawyer who was involved. Lord, Cyrus, there's no telling who may figure out the connection. One way or another, your father still has a problem."

"Yeah. Me."

"Chandler will probably keep looking for you until he finds you. Even if the blackmail threats stop, he can't ignore you any longer."

"True." Cyrus's mouth curved in a humorless smile. "He knows I'm a potential liability."

"So? What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Who says I have to do anything? The problem is Chandler's, not mine."

She sighed. "You can't go on dancing around the issue like this. It's got to be resolved."

"You're wrong. I don't have to resolve a damn thing."

"If you really felt that way, why are you brooding tonight?"

"It's been a long day."

She woke up shortly after midnight, aware that she was alone in the bed. It took her a few seconds to remember that she was in a hotel room. Then she saw the dark shadow that was Cyrus standing at the window. He had his back to her as he looked out over the city. His broad shoulders cut off most of the glow of the late-night lights.

"What is it?" She sat up against the pillows. "Does your wound hurt?"

"Not bad. I took one of the pills."

"In other words, it hurts like heck."

"It'll be all right when the pill kicks in."

She drew up her knees and folded her arms on top of them. "Stop fighting it, Cyrus."

He did not pretend that he did not understand. "What the hell am I supposed to say to him?"

"I don't know. I guess you could start by telling him that the blackmailer is dead. Let him take it from there."

Cyrus made a fist and rested it on the frame of the window. "If he offers me money to keep me quiet…"

"You'll spit on his shoes and walk out the door."

He turned slowly and walked back to stand beside the bed. He stood looking down at her. "Yeah, that's just what I'll do."

She reached out, caught his hand, and squeezed gently. "This is a big occasion. Be sure to wear your best aloha shirt."

He opted for the electric blue and yellow one with the brilliantly hued reef fish swimming in circles.

The neatly tailored, gray-haired woman seated at the desk in the outer office eyed the fish with a deeply wary expression. "May I ask if this is in reference to a wildlife issue? If so, I can arrange for you to receive one of Mr. Chandler's position statements."

Cyrus leaned forward and planted his hands on her desk. "Tell Mr. Chandler that Cyrus Colfax from Second Chance Springs wants to see him. I represent a voting block of one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just do it. I think you'll be amazed at the results."

The receptionist lifted her chin. "Mr. Chandler is expecting his wife at any moment. They plan to do lunch together."

"I won't stay long. Tell him I'm here, or else I'll announce myself."

The woman glanced around quickly, but there was no one else in the vicinity. Cyrus had deliberately chosen to time his arrival for noon. He knew that Chandler usually worked through lunch while most of his staff left the office.

The woman behind the desk seized the phone and spoke quickly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but there's a Mr. Colfax from someplace called Second Chance Springs to see you. I don't think he's with any of the usual groups… What?" She looked at Cyrus, clearly baffled. "Yes, I'll send him in, sir."

She put down the phone very slowly. "Mr. Chandler will see you."

"I was pretty sure he would." Cyrus crossed the carpet to the closed door that guarded the inner office. He was surprised by the cold emptiness in his gut. Eugenia would have had an explanation for it.

The thought of her had a warming effect. He turned the knob and opened the door.

"I know we've got a legal claim to the cup, Tabitha." Eugenia reached the far end of her office and paced back across the Oriental carpet. "But I think we should relinquish it."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this." Seated behind the desk, Tabitha peered at her over the rims of her reading glasses. "The Hades cup may be the most important piece of ancient glass that has turned up in the past fifty years."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Yet you're seriously suggesting that we give it up to some anonymous collector who can't even offer hard proof that he once owned it?"

"Not can't. Won't." Eugenia came to a halt in front of the desk. "But Cyrus vouches for him, and I think we should take his word on this. He says it belongs to his client. He feels a responsibility to return it to him."

"That's ridiculous." Tabitha narrowed her eyes. "Let this client, whoever he is, come forward and talk to our lawyers."

"He won't do that. I told you, Cyrus says he's very eccentric. Has a thing about his anonymity. But he has a legitimate right to the cup."

Tabitha shook her head in disbelief. "I'm amazed to hear you arguing in favor of handing over the Hades cup. I would have expected you to fight tooth and nail to keep it."

Eugenia smiled ruefully. "You don't know how hard this is for me, but I feel it's the right thing to do under the circumstances. Cyrus risked his life for that cup. In the process he saved Nellie and me. He also saved Rhonda Price and Jacob Houston."

"Hmm, there is that, I suppose. On the other hand, if it hadn't been for you and the auspices of the Leabrook, he might never have found the cup in the first place."

Eugenia almost laughed. "You're wrong, Tabitha. Believe me, sooner or later, Cyrus would have found it."

Zackery Elland Chandler's pose said it all, Cyrus thought. Chandler stood resolutely, protectively, in front of a framed picture of his wife and children. His
legitimate
wife and children.

The glaring California sunlight from the window behind him threw his face into unreadable shadow. It also outlined the aggressive, determined line of his shoulders and the fierce angle of his jaw.

It was a jaw that Cyrus had viewed often enough in his own mirror. He'd seen Chandler's picture hundreds of times in newspapers and on television, but he had never been able to detect anything more than a fleeting family resemblance. In person, though, it was much more obvious. It sent a jolt through him.

"Who the hell are you?" Zackery asked.

"Not the guy who's been blackmailing you. His name is Damien March. He's dead."

Nothing showed on Chandler's face. "Dead?"

"Very."

"Goddamn it, this is another extortion attempt, isn't it? You're here to take this Damien March's place, aren't you? Well, you're wasting your time. I won't give you a bloody dime, let alone access to political favors."

The cold feeling in Cyrus's stomach intensified. "I didn't come here for money or access."

"Who are you?"

"I thought your receptionist told you. My name is Colfax. Cyrus Chandler Colfax from Second Chance Springs." He paused. "I believe you knew my mother."

For a few seconds there was no response. Then Zackery moved away from the glare of the sun.

Eye color was something else that was hard to discern in grainy newspaper photos or on TV. For the first time Cyrus saw the color of his father's eyes. They were green.

"Are you claiming to be my son?" Zackery asked.

"Afraid so."

Zackery stared at Cyrus's eyes. "Damn. It's true. You
are
my son."

"It's not as though we won't get anything out of the deal, Tabitha." Eugenia resumed her pacing. "If we play this right, the publicity could be incredible. The Leabrook will get credit for assisting in the recovery of the Hades cup."

"Hmm."

"We'll call in the press." Sensing the lack of enthusiasm, Eugenia waved her arms a few times. "We'll get photographs. It'll make a terrific feature story for the local papers. I bet it will do wonders to arouse interest in the Cutting Edge exhibition."

"You've got this all plotted out, haven't you?"

"What's more, if we time it right, the story will hit the media just before the annual Leabrook Foundation reception. The Board will be thrilled."

"Unless, of course, they find out that we could have legitimately claimed the cup as part of the Daventry collection but chose to give it up, instead," Tabitha said dryly.

Eugenia winced. "Yes. Unless they find out about that part." She took a deep breath. "Tabitha, we have to let it go."

"This is important to you, isn't it?"

"I know I'm asking a lot. Probably a lot more than I have any right to ask. But I honestly think we should let Cyrus have the cup. It's a question of professional ethics."

"As long as we don't submit to blood tests, there's no hard proof for anyone to find," Cyrus said. "My mother put a false name on the birth certificate. She claimed that the father of her child had disappeared and that there was no way to contact him."