Zinnia
Page 14
A speculative look appeared in her eyes. “DeForest told me that none of the men on your father’s team had much in the way of family ties.”
“He’s right.” Nick picked up the wine glass and took another swallow. “Loners, misfits. But all good jungle men. That’s one of the things that doesn’t make sense. If an accident occurred on the trail, one or two of them should have survived.”
“You’re assuming that the expedition did leave the jumping-off point.”
“It left,” he said softly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m certain.”
She sighed. “Okay, back to the other issue. You said the team members were loners and misfits. But your father was hardly alone in the world. He was the heir to the Chastain business empire.”
“My father was the exception.” Nick hesitated. “Andy Aoki told me once that he thought that it was the Chastain family that drove my father out to the islands. Apparently they put a lot of pressure on him to take over the reins of Chastain, Inc. That was the last thing he wanted to do so he got as far away from the clan as he could.”
“Andy Aoki?”
“The man who raised me after my parents died.”
“You lost your mother, too?”
“Before I was six months old. She left me with Andy the day she went to Serendipity to look for answers concerning my father’s disappearance. She never came back. The six-track she was driving went over a cliff during a storm.”
“How terrible for you,” Zinnia said very softly. “To lose both parents.”
“To be truthful, I don’t remember my mother. And my father disappeared before I was even born.” Nick gave her a level look. “Andy was a good man. He was a father to me in every way that counted.”
“I believe you.” Zinnia was silent for a moment. “It was probably Bartholomew Chastain’s talent that led him to take up expedition work. The lure of analyzing and mapping the unknown would have obvious appeal to a strong matrix.”
“I suppose so.” Nick considered that. “Depends on the matrix, I think.”
“Did you ever consider expedition work?”
“No. I did a little jelly-ice prospecting to get a stake together but once I had the money I needed to open the casino, I quit the jungle work. I have... other interests.”
“Synergistic probability theory, I presume.” She eyed him shrewdly. “That would fit with your career choice.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “I don’t run a casino because I’m into gaming theory.”
“Why do you run one?”
“Because, among other things, it’s a good way to make lots and lots of money.”
“Succinctly put. And what do you plan to buy with all the money?”
“Respectability.” And everything that goes with it, he added silently.
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. I’ve got a plan.”
She gave him a look of reluctant fascination. “Amazing. What is this plan?”
“I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”
“Hold on here, Chastain.” She put up a palm. “Things have changed in this little matrix. You can’t just accuse me of fraud one moment and then expect me to go out to dinner with you the next. I’ve got some pride, you know. Plus which, I’m still pissed.”
The phone on the wall rang before Nick could decide how to deal with that.
Zinnia grabbed the receiver. “Hello? Oh, hi, Duncan. No, it’s okay. I worked late tonight.”
Nick did not like the way her voice softened and warmed. Whoever Duncan was, he was more than a casual friend. A relative, he thought optimistically.
“I meant to call you this evening, anyway.” Zinnia lounged against the counter in a casual pose that said volumes about the easy nature of her relationship with the man on the other end of the line. “I wanted to thank you for dinner.”
Not a relative. Nick sipped morosely at his wine. He recognized the feeling of possessiveness that was uncurling within him but he did not fully comprehend it. Possessiveness implied jealousy. Jealousy was a byproduct of desire that was not properly controlled. He hadn’t even gone to bed with Zinnia Spring yet. How could he be feeling anything as strong as jealousy?
He was still suffering aftereffects from the focus link, he decided. He would have to be careful. Very, very careful.
“I had a really bizarre day, as a matter of fact,” Zinnia said into the phone. “I’ll tell you all about it the next time I see you. Thanks. Yes, I promise. I’ll check my calendar in the morning. Good night, Duncan.”
Nick watched her hang up the phone. “Good friend?”
“A friend. His name is Duncan Luttrell.”
Nick made the connection swiftly. “SynIce?”
“Do you know him?”
“Not personally.” Nick summoned up an image of a big, good-looking, confident man. “But I know who he is. He gets a lot of business press. And I’ve seen him at Chastain’s Palace a few times. Strictly a recreational gambler. Doesn’t get into deep play.” But Luttrell usually won when he played, Nick reflected. Even when the stakes were penny-ante.
“Duncan would never gamble heavily.” Zinnia’s smile was a little too sweet. “He likes money, too, just as you do, but he prefers to earn it the old-fashioned way.”
“Meaning he works for it and I don’t?”
“I’m sure running a casino requires all sorts of executive ability. But I suspect your corporate style is somewhat different than Duncan’s.”
Amazingly, Nick managed to hang on to his temper. “Are you and Luttrell serious?”
“You mean, are we having an affair? No.” She grimaced. “My relatives would dearly love us to get more closely involved. Aunt Willy reminded me just this morning that in certain social circles, marriages are sometimes made for what she likes to call family considerations.”
“You mean, she wants you to marry for money and position.”
“Let’s just say she’d like to see the Spring family restored to what she considers its proper station in the world.”
“But you’re digging in your heels.” Nick felt his spirits rise. His best ally in this new battle was Zinnia’s own stubbornness.
“With the exception of my brother, none of my relatives is particularly concerned with whether or not Duncan and I would be happy together. They see marriage to him as a way to recoup the family fortunes.”
“How does Luttrell feel?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never asked him. But he’s a smart man. No intelligent person would consider marrying a woman who has been declared unmatchable.”
“He’d probably be real happy to consider an affair,” Nick muttered.
She blushed. “Maybe. But that’s not any of your business, is it? I’m sure you’re not interested in my personal plans. All you care about is the Chastain journal.”
“And all you care about is finding Morris Fenwick’s murderer. It seems to me, we’re back to Plan A.”
“Plan A?”
“The one where you and I work together.”
“Together?” Her mouth kicked up at the corner. “Surely you jest, Mr. Chastain. I thought you had concluded that I was a conniving little scam artist. Why on St. Helens would you want to work with me?”
Nick felt the heat rise in his face. He wondered if he was turning red. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think you were in on the scam.”
“Really? Tell me, what brought about that grand cognition? Did you utilize your phenomenal matrix-talent to deduce that I’m innocent? Or was it my naive charm and big blue eyes.”
“Silvery,” he corrected, without thinking.
She blinked. “What?”
He felt like a fool. “Your eyes aren’t really blue. They’re sort of silvery.”
She raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Trust a matrix to fuss over details.”
“Look, I admit that I was annoyed when I realized that I’d been conned. It
was logical to assume that you’d been involved.”
“Logical, my Aunt Willy’s left foot. All that happened was that you finally calmed down long enough tonight to use some common sense. You’ve no doubt realized that I’m not stupid enough to risk cheating the notorious Nick Chastain out of fifty thousand dollars and then hang around my apartment waiting for him to find me.”
“I figure Polly and Omar pulled a fast one on both of us.”
“Brilliant deduction.” She contemplated him with narrowed eyes. “So tell me why you want to work with me?”
“Simple. We can help each other.”
“Hah. Don’t give me that. You don’t have any real interest in finding Morris’s killer. All you want is the journal.” She smiled grimly. “I know perfectly well why you suddenly want us to be partners.”
He folded his arms. “Is that so? Why?”
“Simple. You’re afraid that I’ll cause problems for you if I continue my investigation on my own. My blundering around could interfere with your own strategy. And now that I know you’re a matrix-talent, it follows that you do have a strategy.”
“I don’t want you poking around on your own because it could be dangerous,” he said patiently.
“That’s not what’s worrying you. The real problem so far as you’re concerned is that I’m a loose cannon. An uncontrolled element in the matrix. You want to keep tabs on me and you’ve decided that the easiest way to do that is to pretend we’re partners.”
“It wouldn’t be a pretense.”
“Oh? What’s in this for me, partner?”
“I told you that first night, I’ve got connections on the street.”
“No offense, Nick, but I don’t see you sharing information very readily. Not your style.”
“Because I’m a matrix and all matrix-talents are secretive?”
She raised her wine glass in a salute. “That’s one good reason.”
He tapped a finger on his forearm while he considered the challenge. Then he reached for the phone and punched in a familiar number.
It was answered on the first ring.
“That you, boss?” Feather was not given to polite preliminaries.
“Yes. What have you got on Polly Fenwick and Omar Booker?”
“Looks like they moved fast last night. Must have had their bags packed and in the car when they met you in the park. Their house is locked up tight. Yesterday they told the neighbors they were going on vacation.”
“Keep on it. They’ve probably left the city-state. Ask our friends in New Vancouver and New Portland to keep an eye out for them.”
“Right, boss.”
Nick hung up the phone and glanced at Zinnia as he punched in another number. “Polly and Omar were packed and ready to leave town before they met us last night. Looks like they had a plan, too.”
She frowned. “They either knew the journal was a forgery or Morris’s last instructions really did scare them.”
“Yes.” Nick broke off as the second call was answered. “Stonebraker? This is Chastain. I need a favor.”
“I don’t do favors, you know that.” Rafe Stonebraker’s voice was that of a man who lived in shadows. It was laced with a bleak, cynical ennui. “I have bills to pay, same as everyone else. And you, of all people, can well afford my services. What are you looking for?”
“The name of a very, very good forger.”
“How good?”
“Good enough to create a fake copy of Bartholomew Chastain’s journal from the Third Expedition.”
“When you say good enough, do you mean good enough to fool you?”
“For a while, yes. It took me almost an hour of close analysis to be certain that I had just paid fifty grand for a fake. And I doubt that I would ever have figured it out if I had been something other than . . . what I am.”
“A matrix?”
Nick was aware of Zinnia watching him. “Yes.”
“You’re right.” Rafe sounded marginally more interested in the problem now. “There are very few craftsmen of that caliber. Fewer still who would take on that kind of project. I’ll get back to you in a day or two with a name.”
“Thanks.” Nick hung up the phone again and met Zinnia’s eyes. “That was a friend. He’ll find the forger for us. When I get a name, I’ll share it with you. Satisfied?”
“Maybe.” She confronted him with a calculating expression. “What do you want from me?”
Everything. The realization took away his breath. He sucked in air and forced himself to sound calm and in control. “Cooperation. No more going off on your own. We talk before we make our moves.”
She appeared to think that over for a few seconds. Then she nodded once. “Okay, it’s a deal.”
He felt something inside himself untwist and relax slightly. “Like I said, we’re back to Plan A. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re my new interior designer. And to answer your earlier question, yes. The invitation to dinner tomorrow night still stands.”
Zinnia smiled slightly. “Your place or mine?”
He glanced around the bright, airy loft. “I like your place better.”
“Let’s make it yours,” she said softly.
“You want to eat above a casino?” He didn’t want to entertain her there. The casino represented the past he intended to leave behind soon.
“Not the casino,” Zinnia said. “Your new home. The one I’m supposedly going to redecorate for your future bride.”
Chapter 12
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Leo swept the crowded coff-tea house with a worried glance, as though he feared that some of the students or faculty clustered around the small tables might eavesdrop. Then he turned back to Zinnia. “You’re going to be his what?”
“His interior designer.” Zinnia grinned. “Don’t get excited. It’s not quite the same thing as being his mistress.”
“This is not a joke, Zin.”
“No. Actually, it’s just a pretense.”
“You’re talking about a little game of pretend with the guy who just happens to operate the most exclusive casino in town. Are you out of your mind? Chastain is dangerous.”
“He may be able to turn up information that will point to Morris’s killer. Something that I can take to the cops to get their attention.”
Zinnia had been braced for a negative reaction to her plans, but Leo seemed more upset about them than she had anticipated.
When had her gangly little brother turned into a strong handsome man, she wondered. Leo had their mother’s clear, thoughtful blue eyes and their father’s lithe build. His dark brown hair was drawn back from his face and tied with a black cord in a style left over from the waning Western Islands look.
Zinnia was grateful that he hadn’t gone in for the garish colors and outlandish designs of the new Alien Artifact fashions as had so many of the other students on campus. In truth, he was already starting to look like a budding young professor of Synergistic Historical Analysis in his cuffed khaki trousers, unpressed button-down shirt, and slouchy tweed jacket.
It seemed only yesterday that he had stood beside her at the memorial service that had been held for their parents. With their stoic-faced relatives ranged behind them, they had held each other’s hands and fought back tears. Perhaps it was then that Leo had begun to emerge into manhood, Zinnia thought.
She certainly had not been the same since that bleak day. The stress of dealing with the personal tragedy as well as the very disastrous, very public bankruptcy of Spring Industries had changed both of them.
“I admit he’s got a reputation,” she said. “But I think it’s somewhat exaggerated. In fact, I think he deliberately promotes it because he believes it’s good for business.”
“The rumors about him aren’t all fantasy.” Leo’s fingers tightened around his double tall coff-tea latte glass. “Listen, after the story about you and Chastain finding Fenwick’s body broke in the newspapers I started hearing things.”
“What sort of things
?”
“Remember John Garrett?”
“Sure. Garrett Electronics. John used to be a friend of yours back in the old days.” The old days was mutually understood by both of them to refer to the era before the loss of their parents.
“John and I ran into each other again in a History of Synergistic Theory class this semester. He took me aside yesterday. Told me he’d seen the headlines about you and Chastain. He wanted to warn me.”
“About what?”
“About what kind of guy Chastain is.” Leo leaned a little farther across the tiny table. “Seems like John’s cousin, Randy, lost a lot of money in Chastain’s Palace a few months ago. Randy had to go to his father for cash to settle the debt.”
“That would be John’s uncle?”
“Right. At any rate, old man Randolph Garrett was furious. Mostly because he didn’t have the cash. He didn’t want anyone to know he was having financial problems. Some kind of merger was in process. At any rate, John said that borrowing to pay off Randy’s debt would have brought the kind of attention from the business news media that could have jeopardized the deal.”
“What happened?”
“Randy’s father went to see Chastain who said that things could be worked out.” Leo glanced around once more and then lowered his voice. “Get this, Chastain told him that the gambling debt would be wiped off the books provided Garrett sold him a certain piece of property up in the hills above the city.”
“So? That seems perfectly reasonable to me. Generous, even.”
Leo gave her an exasperated look. “The property was the original Garrett estate. The one John Jeremy Garrett, himself, built three generations ago. It’s a piece of the Garrett family history. They would never have parted with it willingly. Chastain must have known that.”
“Did Randy’s father sell the property to Chastain?”
“He had no choice. John told me that the other branches of the Garrett clan were furious when they found out that the estate had been sold off. It was supposed to pass down through Randy’s side of the family.”
“You just told me that Randy’s father was in financial difficulty. If that was true, the estate would likely have been sold, in any event. We had to sell our family home four years ago. These things happen.” It worried Zinnia that she was trying to defend Nick Chastain or at least excuse his actions. Not a good sign, she thought. Not good at all.