by Robin Wells
“You’ve gotten a huge real estate commission from acting as my agent, and you stand to make a fortune from this building contract,” Garrett had told him. “You’re making out a like a fat cat on this deal.”
That was true. Lyle had also made a few under-the-table deals his grandfather didn’t know about that would make him plenty more money once the complex was completed. But that wasn’t enough. Lyle wanted more.
Lyle wanted it all.
But it was clear he wasn’t going to get it from his grandfather. Not this way. Not today.
He took a deep breath and forced a conciliatory tone to his voice. “You’re right, Granddad. It’s your land, and you’re free to do as you wish.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re finally starting to see reason.”
It wasn’t so much reason as the writing on the wall, Lyle thought dourly, turning his Mont Blanc pen in his hand. The harder he pushed, the deeper the old man dug in his heels.
“I know you don’t share my view of things, but I want to put the past behind us. All of us,” Garrett continued.
Lyle sighed. His grandfather was getting on his soap box again. This might take all day.
“This family has been divided too long,” Garrett was saying. “I want us all to make peace and get along. I want us to be a real family.” There was a long pause. Lyle realized his grandfather was waiting for him to say something.
“We are a real family, Granddad.”
“No, we’re not. Want me to tell you what a real family’s like?”
As if I could stop you. “Sure, Granddad.”
“Well, son, in a real family, the members look out for the best interests of each other and not just for themselves.”
“I see.” Lyle saw, all right. He saw that the old man had just slapped him on the wrist, and he didn’t appreciate it, not one little bit. Gritting his teeth, he forced a pleasant tone into his voice. “That’s a good definition.”
“Glad you think so. Guess that means I won’t be hearin’ any more nonsense from you about tryin’ to get your hands on Gabriel’s property, then.”
Lyle’s fist clenched around the phone, but he carefully kept his tone light. “I only want what’s best for the family, Granddad.”
“Good to hear it. Well, you have a nice day.” The phone clicked in Lyle’s ear.
Lyle slammed down the receiver, pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. Muttering a low oath, he shoved his hands into his pockets and strode to the large window that looked out at the mountains behind him.
Damn, but the old man was a stubborn cuss! It had been a tactical error to keep pushing for him to trade the land. Instead of trying to convince his granddad to give him that property, he should have been working harder to convince the Indians to move the resort site up north to his land.
He’d tried to get them to move the whole project—the resort and the casino—to the north earlier, but it was a hard sell. The casino had to be built on Indian land for legal reasons. The land that abutted Lyle’s property was so mountainous and rocky that it would take a small fortune to just level it enough to lay a foundation. The land adjacent to Gabriel’s property was already level. Since the Indians wanted to locate the resort as close as possible to the casino, they’d naturally selected Gabriel’s property instead of Lyle’s.
When the construction project was halted after the discovery of a skeleton, Lyle had tried again to convince the Indians to move the resort site to his land, but they’d stuck with their original decision. The tribe’s lawyer, Jackson Hawk, had suggested that Lyle’s company begin construction on the resort’s pool and sports complex while they waited for the murder investigation to be completed. Lyle couldn’t argue with the logic of the suggestion. In fact, his company had dynamited a forty-five-foot hole for the sports complex foundation just yesterday, and workmen were clearing away the debris now.
Maybe he’d tried the wrong approach, Lyle thought now, staring out at the mountains. Since he couldn’t outsmart the Indians with logic, maybe he should have tried appealing to their superstitious nature. He probably could have frightened them away with stories about a horrible curse.
Lyle’s dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Who’s there?” he growled.
“Peter Cook,” came the answer.
“Who?”
“Pete Cook. I operate one of the earth movers.”
Where the hell was his secretary? At lunch, Lyle supposed. Heaving a sigh, he strode back to his desk and lowered himself into his massive chair. Damn, but he hated having to deal with all the daily headaches of the construction business. The way he saw it, he shouldn’t have to. His role was to figure out the money-making angles. The day-to-day work was the problem of his construction foreman.
Lyle picked up a stack of papers. “You’re supposed to report to Hank,” he called.
“He went into town to get a part for a broken backhoe. Besides, this is somethin’ I think you might want to know about person’lly.”
Hell. Lyle rubbed his chin and sighed. “Come on in.”
A man about Lyle’s height stepped into the room. Clad in jeans and a dirty gray T-shirt, the thin, middle-aged man held an orange hard hat in one hand and what looked like a chunk of rock in the other.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bust in on ya like this, Mr. Brooks, but I found somethin’ just now at the construction site that I thought you’d want to know about.”
Lyle closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I hope it’s not another damn skeleton.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well, then, what is it?”
Peter’s neck moved as he swallowed. “I’m no expert, but I hit somethin’ that looks an awful lot like a vein of sapphire.”
Sapphire! Lyle’s pulse began to race. He’d heard rumors about a sapphire vein hidden in the mountains, but he’d always thought it was nothing more than an old prospector’s tall tale. He leaned back in his chair and gave the man his full attention. “Where?”
“At the south end of the project, about forty feet down. I’ve brought you a piece of it.”
Peter handed him the rock. Lyle turned it in his hand. The back of it looked like ordinary granite, but a thick vein of deep blue shot through the center. Excitement mounted in Lyle’s chest.
Don’t give away your hand, he cautioned himself. Play it cool. “Hmm. Well, it’s interesting, but I don’t know that it’s sapphire.”
“I don’t, either. But I know a little about stones— I like to collect ’em—and this darn sure looks like the real thing. These hills are rumored to have a sapphire vein in them somewhere, and, well, I just figured you’d want to know.”
Lyle nodded, trying to remain calm. “You did the right thing, bringing this to me. I’ll send it off and have it analyzed.” Lyle’s mind worked fast. He turned the chunk of rock in his hand, then looked up at the older man. “Does anyone else know about this?”
Peter shook his head. “I just found it, and I came right here.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone else?”
“No one else was around. The rest of the crew is at lunch. No one knows but you and me.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Lyle rose from his chair and circled his desk. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “After all, you don’t want to have to share your finder’s fee, do you, Pete?”
The man’s brow knit quizzically. “Finder’s fee?”
“Sure. If this is real sapphire, why, you should get a nice chunk of change for being the first to spot it.”
Pete’s face lit up. “What kind of money are we talking about?”
Lyle raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. Depends on whether or not this is real and how much there is of it.”
The man’s eyes lit in a way that told Lyle he had him in the palm of his hand. “But if it’s real, I’ll get some money?”
Lyle nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll see to it personally. Provided you don’t tell anyone
just yet.” Lyle turned the rock in his hand. “I’ll get this tested. In the meantime, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” He looked at Pete closely. “No one. No girl friends, no buddies, no bartenders. Not even your wife, if you’ve got one.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” Peter promised.
“Good.” Lyle strode across the lush burgundy carpet to the door of his office. Pete followed. “We’re going to shut down the digging operation for the day.”
“What’ll I tell the foreman when he gets back?”
“Tell him I came out and told you to stop. Something about not having the right permits. Have him come see me. I’ll tell him we have a paperwork hassle to straighten out before we can proceed.” Lyle pulled his lips back in a smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Not a thing, except keeping your mouth shut.”
Lyle could practically see the dollar signs in the man’s eyes. The poor fool was probably buying a new double-wide trailer in his mind’s eye right now.
Pete touched his fingers to his forehead in a snappy salute. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Brooks. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”
Lyle closed the fist of his left hand possessively around the rock and extended his right hand to the construction worker. “I’m counting on it, Pete. I’m counting on it.”
Lyle waited until the foreman returned, then took the rock into Whitehorn and over-nighted it to a mineralogist in Seattle. He didn’t dare send it to anyone within the state; he didn’t want to risk word getting around that sapphire had been discovered near Whitehorn. To further insure secrecy, he even enclosed a note saying that he’d found the stone in North Dakota.
If this really was a sapphire vein, Lyle intended to keep it to himself—all to himself.
He was at his desk signing payroll checks the next morning when his phone intercom crackled. “Mr. Jasper with Seattle Mineral Testing is on the line,” Pam said.
“All right. Thanks.” Lyle’s hand was shaking when he picked up the phone. “This is Lyle Brooks.”
“Andy Jasper here,” said a cordial voice. “I have some interesting news for you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. That specimen you submitted for analysis—it’s sapphire, all right. High-quality stuff, too. Top notch.”
Lyle tamped down the urge to let out a whoop of victory. “What’s it worth?”
“Well, the gem in that rock would retail for around fifteen or twenty thousand dollars, depending on how it was cut.”
Fifteen or twenty thousand, for a rock small enough to hold in his hand—and there was whole mountain of the stuff, just sitting out there! Lyle’s heart pounded like a jackhammer. He fought to keep his voice calm. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any guess how much sapphire’s likely to be at the site where I found that?”
“Well, it’s anyone’s guess. But usually these gems run in veins. When conditions are right for creating some of the stone, they’re right for creating a lot of it. Judging from the size of the gem in this rock, I’d say that most likely, you’ve stumbled onto quite a windfall.”
Lyle swallowed, his mouth dry.
“You say you found this on your vacation property in North Dakota?” Mr. Jasper asked.
Lyle immediately grew wary. “Uh, yeah. That’s right.”
“Well, I’d say you’re a mighty lucky man.” Mr. Jasper chuckled. “You don’t happen to want a partner, do you?”
“No. I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Well, I knew you were anxious for the report. Do you want me to send the rock back to you by special courier?”
“No. I don’t want to call undue attention to it. Just insure it and send it back by overnight mail.” Lyle gave the man his home address, then switched the phone to his other ear. “And, Mr. Jasper, I trust you’ll adhere to your company’s confidentiality policy.”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“You’d better. Because if you leak anything to anyone about this, my lawyers will be on you like ticks on a bloodhound.”
Lyle hung up the phone, then rose from his chair and pumped his fist victoriously in the air. He was sitting on a dad-blasted gold mine!
Or rather, Gabriel Reilly Baxter was. The thought made his exuberant mood sputter and die.
Lyle knotted his hands into fists. “Well, not for long,” he muttered. His mind churning, he paced the floor in front of his office window.
If he could get the Indians to move the resort site to his property up north, his grandfather would probably agree to the property swap. After all, the old man’s only concern was insuring that his precious bastard grandchild had a valuable piece of real estate.
Lyle’s face broke into a smile. Oh, this was ingenious. Why, Lyle would look down right generous if he gave his little cousin the more valuable land! His sudden big-heartedness might be a little hard to explain, though. He’d have to come up with a story about how he was sentimentally attached to this particular piece of property. Granddad had always been a sucker for an emotional story.
Lyle smacked a fist into the palm of his hand. Oh, but he was brilliant! He grinned broadly as he stared out the window. Just think—a whole mountain of sapphires sitting out there, and only he knew about them.
He—and Peter Cook. Frowning, Lyle rubbed his jaw. He couldn’t let a small-time wage earner like Cook interfere with his plans. No, sir.
Cook was an obstacle that could easily be eliminated. All it took was the guts to do it. And the sooner he did it, the better.
Striding to his desk, he picked up a piece of notepaper and scrawled a note:
Pete—I have news about that rock you found. Meet me at the construction site tonight at 10:00 p.m. and I’ll fill you in. Tell no one.
Lyle signed his name with a flourish, then riffled through the paycheck envelopes on his desk until he found the one marked Peter Cook. He stuffed the note inside, licked the flap and sealed it closed.
He was smarter than all of them, Lyle thought smugly. Smart enough to know exactly what he wanted and smart enough to figure out how to get it. And no one—not his grandfather, not his bastard cousin, and certainly no one the likes of Peter Cook—was going to stand in his way.
Four
“So how’s it going?”
Frannie looked up from the container of yogurt she was eating to see her pixie-faced cousin lowering herself into one of the chairs across from her desk at the Whitehorn Savings and Loan.
“What are you doing here, Jasmine?”
“I came downtown to pick up a few things for Mom at the drugstore, and I thought I’d stop in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“I didn’t mean you. I meant the flirting. How’s it going?”
The flirting, Frannie groaned. That was today’s assignment from Summer and Jasmine. Wearing her contacts, which she hated, and mascara, which she loathed, she’d been instructed to make eye contact with a man and give him “the treatment”—whatever that was. And it didn’t end there. She had to wear these blasted four-inch heels that looked like radio towers. All designed to make her legs look shapely.
Frannie tossed the empty yogurt container into the waste-basket, avoiding her cousin’s eyes. “I thought I didn’t have to report back to you two until tonight.”
Jasmine folded her arms across her chest and eyed her accusingly. “You haven’t tried it, have you?”
“Not yet.” Frannie straightened a pad of forms on the corner of her desk. “I happen to be on the payroll here to work, not to pick up men.”
Jasmine glanced at her watch. “I thought you were on your lunch hour.”
“Well, I technically am, but I have a lot of work to do, so—”
“So come on.” Jasmine rose and motioned for Frannie to follow her.
“Where are we going?”
“To the ladies’ room to put on more mascara. Then you’re going to march back to your desk and give the eye treatment to the next man who walks in here.”
&nbs
p; “Ah, Jasmine, I don’t think I can bat my eye lashes like Summer said.”
Jasmine eyed her sternly. “You agreed to let us make you over, and this is an important part of the process.”
There was no point in arguing with Jasmine when she got that determined look in her eye. With a sigh, Frannie rose and followed her cousin.
She returned to her desk a few minutes later, her eyelids feeling unnaturally heavy. “I think you overdid the mascara,” she grumbled to Jasmine.
“With the lighting in here, it takes more makeup to do the job. But don’t worry. You look great.” Jasmine smiled at her. “Now, I want you to give the eye treatment to the next man who walks through that door. I’m going to go stand on the other side of the lobby and watch.”
Frannie knew Jasmine was as tenacious as a bulldog. Unless she wanted her cousin standing around watching her all afternoon, she’d have no choice but to go ahead and get it over with. Frannie heaved a sigh. “All right. The very next man who walks through the door—provided he’s not old enough to be my grandfather, someone I work with or a man I know is married.”
“I know you’ll be great.” Jasmine flashed an encouraging smile, then sauntered to the far side of the lobby.
With her luck, Frannie thought, the next man to walk through that door would look and smell like Sasquatch.
Her shoulders tensed as the door opened. A blue-haired old lady in a lavender dress toddled in. Frannie was just inhaling a breath of relief when the door opened again and Austin Parker strode into the lobby.
Great. Just great. Frannie cast a desperate look across the room to see Jasmine nod her head in Austin’s direction.
Oh, dear. Why did she have to practice this silly technique on him?
He no doubt already thought she was mentally deranged. With a last desperate glance at Jasmine, Frannie took a deep breath and looked directly at Austin. To her surprise, he looked back and smiled.
