Jessie swirled the liqueur in the balloon glass and ducked her head to inhale the pleasant fragrance. She was feeling cozy and warm and replete. Outside the small restaurant a steady rain was falling. The meal she and Hatch had just concluded had been excellent. There was a fire burning in the hearth of the little dining room and the place was half-full of quietly talking people who were obviously enjoying themselves.
Jessie and Hatch had gone back to the inn after returning from the DEL tour, changed clothes, and walked to the restaurant. It had not been raining then, although the threat had been apparent. Hatch had said little during dinner. He appeared to be lost in thought.
For once Jessie had not felt like baiting him. She had been content, instead, to luxuriate in the unfamiliar sense of companionship. It was gratifying somehow to know they were both mulling over their shared adventure of the afternoon.
The trip had established a new bond between them, she thought. They had something in common now in addition to the undeniable physical attraction, something that had nothing to do with Benedict Fasteners. For the first time she had a glimmer of hope about the future of their relationship.
It was just barely possible that she and Hatch might be able to establish a meaningful communication, she told herself wistfully. The fact that Hatch was obviously concentration on her investigation tonight was a good sign. He was clearly capable of taking a genuine interest in her work.
Maybe Hatch's devotion to his own career was not quite so single-minded as her father's after all. Maybe he just needed to be lured away from his desk from time to time. Maybe with a bit of coaxing he could learn to develop the playful side of his nature, learn to pause and relax, learn to stop and smell the roses.
Jessie risked a quick assessing glance at her dinner partner as he signed the bill and pocketed his credit card. He was, for Hatch, almost casually dressed this evening. In other words, that meant he was not wearing a business suit. He had on a richly textured charcoal-gray jacket over a white shirt and a pair of black trousers. Instead of his usual discreetly striped silk tie, he was wearing one with little dots all over it. The man had obviously thrown all caution to the winds when he had packed for this trip.
Hatch glanced up and saw her watching him. She smiled warmly and waited expectantly for him to comment on some conclusion he had arrived at concerning DEL, or at least to note what a pleasant evening this had been.
“Damn,” Hatch said, frowning slightly, “I wonder if Gresham got his status report in to Vincent this afternoon. If he didn't, I'll hand him his head on a platter when I get back. I've had it with that guy. We're on a critical path with that Portland project. Nobody involved in it can miss even one more deadline.”
“Gosh, Hatch, that's about the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me after a cozy little dinner for two in front of the fire. I could just swoon.”
He gave her a blank look for about one and a half seconds. Then her comment appeared to register. He got to his feet. “If you're not feeling well, we'd better get back to the inn.”
“Don't worry. I feel just fine.” She wrinkled her nose at him but said nothing more as he steered her toward the door. So much for the assumption that he had been dwelling on her project or her presence. His mind had been on Benedict Fasteners after all.
A few minutes later they stepped out into the misty rain and walked in silence back toward the little waterfront inn where they were staying. Hatch held the black umbrella over both of them and Jessie stayed close to his side.
The street through the center of the small island village was nearly deserted. A single streetlight marked the intersection with the road that led down to the harbor, but other than that there was little illumination. Jessie linked her arm through Hatch's, enjoying the size and strength of him there in the wet darkness. She thought of the bed waiting for them at the inn. Perhaps there was no long-term future for them, but there was the affair.
“Hatch?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind if I asked you a rather personal question?”
“Depends on the question.”
Jessie drew a steadying breath. “Do I look like her?”
“Like who?”
“Your wife?”
The muscles of his arm tightened beneath her fingers. “Hell, no.”
“You're sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. What a damn-fool thing to ask. What brought this on? Who told you I'd been married in the first place? Your father?”
“No. I'm sorry, Hatch. I shouldn't have said anything.”
“Well, now you've said something, you might as well finish it.”
Jessie studied the wet pavement ahead. “I was talking to my mother. She mentioned that you had been married and that you had lost your wife. That led sort of naturally into a discussion of how men tend to look for the same things in a second wife that they looked for in a first wife. Which led to the observation that she and Connie are very much alike. Mom says men are creatures of habit. Especially when it comes to women. They're attracted to the same types, if you see what I mean, and—”
“I think that's enough, Jessie.”
She closed her mouth abruptly, aware that she had begun to ramble. “Sorry.”
“You're not anything like her.”
“Oh.” Jessie experienced a strong sense of relief.
“She had blond hair and blue eyes.”
“I see. Pretty, I imagine.”
Hatch hesitated. “Yes. Well, in a different way than you are.” He was silent for another beat. “She was taller than you.”
“Ah.”
Hatch shrugged. “That's about it,” he said gruffly. “What else did you want to know?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved.
“What was she like?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Was she nice?”
“Dammit, Jessie.”
“Did you love her very much?” She knew she should quit while she was ahead, but for some reason she could not seem to stop herself. The questions bubbled to the surface, demanding answers.
Hatch came to a halt and pulled Jessie around to face him. In the rain-streaked light that was coming through a nearby cottage window she could see that his face was harder-edged and bleaker than usual. Jessie wished she had kept her mouth shut.
“Jessie…”
“I'm sorry, Hatch,” she whispered. “Let's just forget it, shall we? It's none of my business. I know that.”
He shook his head slowly. “I know you better than that, Jessie. You won't be able to forget it now that you've started thinking about it. You're going to chew on it and fret about it and spin all kinds of questions about it.”
She closed her eyes, knowing he was right. “I won't say another word about her. I promise.”
“Sure. And if I believe that, you've got a bridge you can sell me, right?” He sighed. “I thought I loved her when I married her. She was everything I needed and wanted in a wife. And she was just as ambitious for me as I was. She was beautiful and understanding and supportive. She was born into the world I was moving into and she knew how to function in that environment. I was on my way up and she was going with me, the perfect corporate wife.”
“Hatch, please, don't.”
“She worked as hard to help me build my career as I did. She entertained my business associates on short notice. She saw to it we joined the right country club. She never complained when I was called out of town on a business trip. She understood about the demands of my job. She never made a fuss when I was late for dinner or too tired to make love to her.”
“Hatch, I really don't want to talk about this any more.”
“Neither do I. But you brought it up, so I'll finish it. To make a long story short, we were very happy together for about four years. I had a good position in a fast-moving company. Our future was all mapped out. I thought it was time to talk about having kids. She thought we should wait a li
ttle longer. Then a couple of things happened at once.”
“What things?”
“The company I was working for was the object of a hostile takeover. When the bloodletting was over, I was out of a job along with most of management. Not unusual in a takeover situation. Olivia took the news badly, though. We were almost back to square one as far as she was concerned.”
“And she had a hard time dealing with that?”
“Let's just say she was not particularly interested in starting over from scratch, and I couldn't blame her. I wasn't real thrilled with the idea, myself, but I had confidence that I could do it. I believed in myself, but she didn't. We quarreled a lot. She blamed me for the mess. And then she died in a car accident.”
Jessie could feel tears burning in her eyes. “Hatch, I'm so sorry.”
“It was rough. I was pretty well out of it for a while after the funeral. Which probably explains why it took me so long to find the note she had left before she got into the car for the last time.”
Jessie's insides clenched as she suddenly realized where all this might be leading. “What was in the note?”
“She told me she couldn't tie herself to a loser. She had her future to consider and she was filing for divorce. She planned to marry a friend of mine. Someone I had worked with at the company, someone I had trusted. He had landed on his feet after the takeover. Gone to work as a vice-president for the new owner.”
“Oh, Hatch.”
“Apparently he and Olivia had been having an affair for six months prior to the accident. The day she was killed, she was leaving to meet him. Olivia said in her note she hoped I understood.”
“My God.” Jessie had not felt this thoroughly miserable for a long time. “I'm sorry,” she said again, unable to think of anything else. “I'm so sorry, Hatch.”
“I figured out a lot of things after I read that damned note. I understood at last why she had been so reluctant to talk about babies. She hadn't wanted to get pregnant until she had decided whether or not she would be leaving me.”
Jessie could feel his fingers biting into her arms through the fabric of her jacket. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “Please, Hatch. Don't say anything more about it. I should never have asked about her.”
His mouth tightened. “You're getting wet. It's damn stupid for us to be standing around out here in the rain.”
“Yes.”
He took her arm again and started walking. “Anything else you want to know about me? I'd rather get the question-and-answer phase over as fast as possible.”
She had a thousand questions but she could not bring herself to ask a single one of them at that moment. “I guess I'm not very good at this sort of thing.”
“You might not be good.” His mouth quirked wryly. “But something tells me you'll be persistent. Are you sure you don't have any more questions?”
“I'm sure.” She reached up to pull the lapels of her jacket closed. “Feels like it's getting colder, doesn't it?”
“Not particularly. You're probably just getting wetter.”
“No, it's more than that. It is colder. Or something.” A small ripple of awareness went down her spine. Instinctively she glanced behind her. There was nothing to see but the dark, rain-washed street. A car's headlights briefly speared the night behind them and then vanished.
“Something wrong, Jessie?”
“No. For a minute I thought there was someone else around.”
Hatch glanced back. “I don't see anyone. Even if there were, it wouldn't be anything to worry about. This isn't exactly downtown Seattle.”
“True.” She shook off her uneasiness. “What did you think about our tour this afternoon? You haven't even mentioned it since we got back.”
“I don't know what to think yet. I want to take a closer look at something I picked up at the mansion first,” Hatch said. “Maybe have someone else look at it too.”
Jessie glanced up quizzically. “What on earth did you pick up? I didn't see you carrying anything.”
“I'll show you when we get back to the room.”
“Do you think there's any chance DEL is for real?”
“No,” Hatch said flatly. “It's a scam, pure and simple. What we saw today was a first-class boiler-room operation. One constructed with lots of fancy window dressing to impress the suckers.”
“I was afraid of that. You know, in a way, I was almost hoping it was for real.”
“Jessie, there are no easy fixes for the environmental problems we're facing. Just ask Elizabeth or David.”
“I know. Just wishful thinking. You have to admit that all those computer screens full of climate projections and stuff looked awfully convincing. I talked to Landis when you went to the men's room.”
“I'll bet he hinted he'd like a sizable donation.”
“Well, yes. But more important, I tried to get him to tell me whether or not Bright claims psychic powers. He said some people could interpret the man's combination of intelligence and intuition that way, but he made it clear Bright makes no overt claims to having psychic abilities.”
“Smart. Let the sucker think what he wants to think, and play to it. I'm not so sure he'd need to claim psychic gifts anyway. Not to attract the kind of young, hopeful people we saw working at the mansion. They're more than willing to be seduced by the quick-fix promises we heard on that video. And the promise of cashing in on the profits that will be made from all the magic machines supposedly being invented.”
“Yes. Bright's pitch is terrific, isn't it? Save the world and make a fortune at the same time. Who could resist?”
“There's a sucker born every minute, Jessie. Just keep in mind how hard it was for you to say no to your stockbroker friend.”
“Let's leave Alison out of this. Just how dedicated do you think that staff of Bright's is?”
“Some of them are certainly dedicated enough to offer to sleep with the prospective sucker in exchange for a sizable donation,” Hatch said.
“What? She didn't.” Jessie was incensed. “Did she?”
“Ummm.”
“What kind of an answer is that? Did that little Sherry Smith try to seduce you or not? Just what were you doing down there in the men's room, anyhow?” Jessie started to demand further explanations, but the odd rippling sensation shot through her nerve endings again. She glanced over her shoulder.
“What's wrong now?” Hatch asked.
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don't think we're alone out here.”
“We're almost at the inn,” he said soothingly. “Just another block.”
“Have you ever had the feeling someone was following you?” She quickened her steps, straining to see the lights of the inn through the rain.
“I'm a businessman, remember? Every time I look over my shoulder, someone's gaining on me. Goes with the territory.”
“I'm not joking, Hatch. This is making me very nervous. There's somebody back there. I know it.”
“Probably a local resident on his way home from the same restaurant.”
Hatch sounded as calm as ever, but Jessie felt the new alertness in him. He obligingly quickened his step to match hers.
A moment later they were safely back in the warm, inviting lobby of the small bed-and-breakfast inn where they had booked a room. Two guests who were playing checkers in front of the fire looked up and nodded as Jessie and Hatch went past on their way to the stairs.
Jessie was relieved when she stepped into the bedroom and watched Hatch close and lock the door. She shook the rain off her jacket and hung it up in the tiny closet. “I think that visit to DEL must have made me more nervous than I realized. Better show me what you picked up on the tour.”
“I've got it right here.” Hatch pulled a piece of paper out of his inside pocket.
Jessie took it from him as he hung up his jacket and took off his tie. She unfolded it carefully and found herself staring down at one page of a large-size computer printout. It was covered with numbers.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the trashcan in the men's room. One of the things about computers is that they tend to produce a hell of a lot of paper. It's tough to control the garbage, even under the tightest security conditions. Someone's always accidentally tossing a few pages into the nearest trashcan.” Hatch sat down in the one chair in the room and stretched out his legs.
Jessie sank down onto the bed, stunned. “You went through the trash in the men's room? That's why you asked directions to it? Good grief, Hatch. Whatever made you decide to do that?”
“I wanted a sample of whatever those computer operators were printing out. I was curious to see if it was the same kind of data we were being shown on the screens.”
“Is it?” Jessie studied the array of numbers on the printout.
“No. What you're looking at there looks very much like a financial spread sheet, not climate forecasts.”
“A spread sheet.” Jessie glanced up again. “That would fit with a real scam, wouldn't it?”
“It would fit with a lot of scenarios. That page of data doesn't prove anything, one way or the other. A legitimate foundation would have to track its financial picture just like any other corporation. We need more information before we can get a handle on what's going on at DEL headquarters.”
“How do we get more details?”
Hatch contemplated her for a long moment. “For starters, I suggest we have someone who knows computers and computer programs take a look at what's on that piece of paper.”
“Why? What will it tell someone else that it won't tell you?”
Hatch appeared to hesitate again before making up his mind to explain further. “If someone who was very good with computers took a look at that page of printout, he might, just might, mind you, be able to use some of the information on it to do a little discreet hacking.”
Jessie stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then realization struck. “Of course. Hatch, that's a wonderful idea. Absolutely brilliant. If we got a hacker to break into the DEL computers, we could see what they're really doing. We could at least find out if their scientific research is for real or just a cover, couldn't we?”
Sweet Fortune Page 16
