From the Top

by Roxanne Smith

  Or rather, a hole was, boarded over with a single large piece of plywood. The shattered window and its frame had been removed, probably first thing this morning. She sighed. Any clues left behind were long gone.

  She glanced around. In between the bookshelves, the walls were spotted with holes, large ones that showed the wooden slats behind them, leaving four inches of open space. She studied the holes, noticing a peculiar sameness—almost a pattern. It was as if someone had taken a mallet to the wall, punching out foot-wide holes.

  Seraphina shoved her little pad of paper into her bag and approached one. She grimaced and stuck her arm inside, searching the space between the walls. Her fingers brushed a crossbeam—a tidy little shelf for anyone wishing to hide something here. Methodically, she began to search every hole in the wall. She had no idea what she was looking for, but someone had broken into this room, specifically.

  Her fingers brushed against something, waking her from a mechanical stupor.

  “Looking for lost treasure?”

  Seraphina’s heart leaped into her throat. She yanked her hand from the wall, knocking loose debris to the floor. She cursed herself for her reaction. She hated to appear guilty. She didn’t turn around to look at Marc until she had her face under control. She fixed her features into polite surprise. “You startled me.” She offered a breathy laugh. “I was inspecting the primary wall, expecting a hairy spider to crawl up my hand any second.”

  “Could happen. The cobwebs suggest spiders have lived well here in the past.” He took a few steps inside and peered around the room, his gaze scanning the ceiling and tattered secondary wall. “What’s this room going to be for? When it’s remodeled?”

  Seraphina straightened and brushed the dust from her hands. “The new library. I want to keep as many of the original bookshelves as possible. If you wouldn’t mind making a note to set them aside. I’ll have a central table, a place for private councils or staff meetings.” She pointed to the wall separating the old library from the room behind Marc. “Tear this down and rebuild it three feet over. Details are in my plans.”

  “I’ve gone through them, but I won’t study them with a fine-toothed comb until we have good bones.” Marc frowned, turned his head, and ran a hand down the wall beside him. “Thin,” he said agreeably. “Boards feel loose. Maybe some rot in places.” Then he nodded. “Well, I just came to check on you, make sure you hadn’t fallen into the floor somewhere.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t smile, in case he took it as an invitation to hang around. “I’m fine. I think I’m going to spend another minute in here. I want a closer look at some of these shelves. If we can’t reuse them, I’ll want duplicates made, perhaps, for use in the reception area.”

  Marc bobbed his head. “You got it.”

  Finally, he left, and Seraphina blew out a long exhale and closed her eyes. The man moved like a ghost. She hadn’t heard a single floorboard creak under his boots. But then, he’d inspected the floors and probably knew to avoid the weak spots.

  She waited several heartbeats to make sure she was alone, then returned to the hole she’d been searching. Her fingers wriggled until they finally found purchase on a small, smooth item. She struggled up on her tip-toes, and at last managed to grip it between her first two fingers. Ever so carefully, she withdrew the tiny package.

  Her eyes went wide at what she retrieved and let settle in her palm. No bigger than a fifty-cent piece and round as a golf ball, the clear plastic closed around a loose white substance. Seraphina’s heart thudded in her chest. She suddenly knew with deadly certainty Brendan Berkley’s purpose in being assigned to Tanbee House.

  But the question that plagued her wasn’t why he’d stash drugs in an old historical building, or how he’d managed to get himself in the professional position to retrieve the drugs.

  But rather, how deep was Grant Gallagher’s involvement. He’d hired Brendan. Assigned Brendan to a position that allowed him access to this specific property. Her stomach churned sourly at what it all appeared to add up to.

  She felt around inside the hole. This time, she pushed a long-forgotten piece of lumber against the wall and used it to make herself tall enough to reach farther. Her hand touched upon a whole pile of the soft, round packages. They felt like rubber balloons filled with flour. Malleable and heavy for their size. She stepped back and tried to think, pacing a tight circle around the room as she did. “Damn. Kay was right. I need a good camera.”

  She growled, frustrated with herself. She needed evidence. Real evidence. She’d take one of these to Kay and Oliver, so the PD could confirm the substance. But she couldn’t prove where she’d found the stash without some kind of evidence, and Kay had been pretty clear that her cell phone wouldn’t cut it.

  She smoothed her hair, physically calming herself as well as mentally. She’d come back at night, with camera equipment, and she’d tear away the wall until she could get a decent shot of the stash. Then, somehow, she’d make sure Brendan Berkley got caught well and good this time.

  * * * *

  “Marc called. She’s there.” Grant gave Ophelia the news with a wry twist to his lip. He rubbed his hands together in an effort to ward off his anxiety. They played a long, questionable game. There were so many elements that could go wrong, so many things left to chance, with nothing but the calculated hope that they might go as predicted. A large part of his frustration lie in being nothing but a game piece himself. He wasn’t the play caller or the mastermind, just another token to be arranged as deemed fit by the powers that be.

  He didn’t mind. Or he hadn’t, anyway. But in the end, he didn’t know if he’d have the right words to explain it all to Seraphina. Or if she’d believe he hadn’t hired her for this purpose, but for her own merits.

  Ophelia had her head bent over Seraphina’s notes. It was almost as if she’d picked up on his thread of thoughts. “You know, she’s pretty incredible.”

  As if he hadn’t figured that out. “Yeah. She is. You know what I think? I think I don’t appreciate the pointless subterfuge. We know what we’re after, we know who’s responsible. Why are we putting Seraphina smack in the middle of everything?”

  Ophelia looked up at him with a soft groan. “Grant, please. Time and time again, we’ve gone over this.” She set the notes aside and approached his desk. She crossed her arms and leaned one hip against the small antiquity.

  Here, in the hidden inner office, Grant let his inherent chaotic style run amok. He didn’t have to concern himself with neatness or appearances. They’d called it strange when he’d had two offices created, but he had to maintain a particular image. He glanced at the stacks of random papers and files, the large scrolls of blueprints stacked in corners, and plants Kathleen misguidedly gifted him every so often gone bone dry and wilted in their pots. This was definitely not the face he could afford to put on his brand for employees and clients. And yet, he couldn’t work up an ounce of creativity in the clinically well-ordered outer office.

  He knew rumors swirled about his supposed lack of vision and talent. Those who met with him in his office saw the starkness as an extension of Grant’s personality. They called him a figurehead and a crook, stealing the ideas of his designers and stamping his name across them for the sake of profit. As ever, he didn’t care what people thought or said about him, because the designers he supposedly robbed of their ingenuity had seen his inner sanctum and had an instant kinship with the madness creativity usually wrought. And as long as those who worked for him trusted him, well, the rest could think what they like.

  Ophelia made a strange departure for him. She gave off an aura of authority that, in some cases, trumped his own. He didn’t like her position, even if he understood it. “Seraphina is important because she’s our link to Oliver Pierce. He can’t investigate Brendan Berkley hands on. Not unless we want Brendan to go through on that harassment claim and destroy every ounce of evidence Oliver has
gathered against him so far. However, if Seraphina supplies evidence without Brendan’s knowledge, legally obtained as a private citizen, Oliver can use it. Publicly, he’s been distanced from the investigation. On the inside, he’s the figurehead, while Donald Cappricci handles the reins from Jonesboro. If the fact we’ve had to separate them by the width of the state of Arkansas doesn’t tell you something, I’d think a little harder on it. Now, we’ve got to be more diligent than ever. Brendan isn’t the catch. He is the means. Seraphina, our Trojan horse.”

  Grant leaned forward on his elbows and steepled his fingers, gazing at Ophelia over the ridge of his fingertips. “Has contact been confirmed?”

  Her smile answered before she gave voice to her satisfaction. “She’s in. And it has to be Seraphina. Because Brendan expects her to mistrust him. He’ll expect her to give him sidelong glances. Her suspicion is driven by her loyalty to her friends, and he won’t find anything odd in that. He certainly won’t expect her to investigate him on Oliver’s behalf. If it were you, he might begin to question why you hired him. He might begin to question how easily you took him on despite his reputation. You have to appear to have his back, to believe in his innocence. In the very least, believe in his right to a second chance, and that Tanbee House is his opportunity to prove himself. You have to make certain he believes that’s why you agreed to his petition for that specific project.”

  “Meanwhile, we’re simply facilitating?”

  Ophelia gave him a flat stare. “Yes. We rigged the city planning council to switch to Tanbee House at the last moment, securing it before the drugs could be removed. We put Seraphina in position, knowing full well she’d immediately inform Kay Bing and Oliver Pierce of Brendan’s new job with you. We know his organization has been moving drugs through the abandoned property. We just need to give Seraphina time to find them. We also know Brendan will be watching her closely, and her movements should put pressure on his. The broken window ruse worked. She went to Tanbee House to investigate on her own.”

  He sat back with a frustrated huff. “And I get to be the bad guy. She’ll suspect I’m involved. It’s my company. And I did what you asked. Gave her a reason to go back to Tanbee House to investigate. I still don’t understand why the lead investigator doesn’t seize the drugs we know are there.”

  “We don’t want the drugs. We want the people making them. And Brendan Berkley is going to be the rat that leads us back to the warren.” She frowned, showing some regret for Grant’s plight—the merest hint of sympathy. “If our success comes at the cost of your relationship with Seraphina, so be it, Grant. You signed up for this.”

  He nodded. “And can’t regret the decision.”

  Besides, when the governor himself came knocking, even someone as powerful as Grant Gallagher didn’t say no. Seraphina had already been hired, so it was all too easy to put their plan into motion; a complicated game designed to bring down one more leg of the massive drug ring afflicting the entire state with modified magic mushrooms that were killing people.

  Since Oliver had brought down the operation inside Free Leaf Concepts, occurrences of overdoses and hospital reports had dwindled. But they weren’t stopping entirely. According to the street reports, the drugs were still available, but premiums had skyrocketed. Victims nowadays were of wealthy stock, in one case the son of a senator. That turned out to be the turning point that led both law enforcement and city officials to devise a deeper offense. It almost seemed absurd that so much of it hinged on one woman.

  “Tell me one more time why it doesn’t make sense just to tell her what we’re doing.”

  With more patience than he expected, Ophelia crossed her arms. “Grant, think. Seraphina is not an actress. She’s a designer. The first time—and I do mean the first time, because Brendan is no fool, and he will be vigilant—that she looked at him with any measure of satisfaction rather than the distrust he expects from her, it’s over. One wrong look, one miscalculated step, and she’d give the whole thing away. Do you think she could hide her gratification that Brendan hasn’t been forgotten by the LRPD, after all? So long as things go their natural course, with subtle guidance from us, the better our chances are of bringing this guy down once and for all.” Ophelia pushed away suddenly, checking her watch. “Speaking of, your three o’clock is nigh. I’ll be in here if you need me. Quiet as a mouse.”

  “Recording device going?”

  She almost looked offended. “I’ll worry about my job. You worry about yours. Get in there and convince Brendan he’d better think long and hard about how and when he plans to get access to Tanbee House. Scare him off temporarily. Long enough to give Seraphina some time to come across the stash. She’s smart and determined, and she’s not going to quit poking around until she finds out why someone would break into an abandoned house. You asked Marc to increase security?”

  Grant rose from his untidy desk and straightened his tie. “It’s done.” In the absolute order of his outer office, he sat behind the desk and waited until Annie announced the arrival of Brendan.

  He decided Brendan was a careful fellow. His hair was combed just so, his khaki dress shirt attractive against black slacks and a tie but two shades off. Complement and contrast, in precise and circumspect quantity. Very designed. Very purposeful. His thick black framed glasses suited his long face and small eyes. Even his body language, as he fluidly entered the room and both sat himself and greeted Grant with a quick smile, spoke of a particular calculation.

  Grant didn’t like him. He covered his aversion with a polite nod of his head. He couldn’t make himself offer the man a smile if the whole investigation hinged on it. “Brendan.” A short, cursory greeting.

  Brendan grinned. “Mr. Gallagher. A pleasure.” He rubbed his hands together and surveyed the office. “I admit, I’m curious as to why I’m here.”

  Grant settled back and watched Brendan with careful attention. He enjoyed how he squirmed while trying to hide the fact that he was uncomfortable under Grant’s steady gaze. When Grant was satisfied Brendan was no longer at ease, he spoke. “I wanted to check in. I understand your unfortunate involvement in the investigations into Free Leaf Concepts left something of a sour note on your reputation. As we saw with Ms. Fawkes last week.”

  He made intentional mention of their being seen together in public. He wouldn’t allow Brendan to think for one second he could hold his relationship with Seraphina as some sort of bargaining chip. There was one issue settled.

  “I hope my employees are treating you fairly. And I hope you’ll find some satisfaction in working with Seraphina. I’m sure she only requires some time to warm up to you.” He left off with something of a question in his tone.

  Brendan responded as he’d hoped. “I’m sure. I mean, we had very little contact at Free Leaf. She was buried in the Sweetclover project, which she did a remarkable job on. And I had other duties. We rarely crossed paths. I understand she’s personal friends with the investigator who led the undercover operation, and it’s reasonable that should color her judgment. She just needs to get to know me better.”

  Something in the slick edge of his smile chilled Grant. He had a sudden premonition he could guess how Brendan considered he might win Seraphina over. He’d find it all the easier to attempt if he discovered she and Grant had called an end to their affair. He wanted to sigh out loud. One more thing Seraphina could question when all of this came to light. Would she believe Grant wanted to rekindle things between them, or decide he’d simply done it to thwart Brendan? If he could just tell her everything now.

  Brendan was already talking again, probably a reaction to Grant’s stony silence. “And I’m motivated. To do a good job for you. For her. To earn my reputation back in whatever manner I’m able. I’m grateful for the opportunity.” A slight smile stretched his lips. If he imagined it covered the hunger in his gaze, he was wrong. “I’m already impressed with how efficiently this place runs. I mean, I’ve
never seen the city council and the historical society work so smoothly together. The swiftness in which you got them to approve Tanbee House in the place of Cupper Cottage is nothing short of a miracle.”

  For the first time, Grant let his smile stretch wide. “Yes. I’m rather proud of that.” Proud of how we cornered you so easily, you weasel. Brendan’s application had hit Grant’s desk two days after the proposal to switch properties cleared. To no one’s surprise. A good old bait and switch, and now they had Brendan right where they wanted him. “I wanted Tanbee House all along,” he said, letting his self-satisfied smirk run over his mouth, marveling in how Brendan was utterly ignorant as to the reason for it. “The layout is better suited to our needs. Once they approved Cupper Cottage, I decided it was worth convincing them one property wasn’t so different from another. If you never swing, you always miss.”

  Brendan nodded. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to join the Tanbee House team. It’s a real honor. I—”

  “Not an honor.” Grant cut him off swiftly, coldly. He let the grin fade from his face. “An opportunity, as you said, and nothing more than that. A scale large enough for you to make a mark and prove I made the right decision. I like to think my judge of character is one of my strongest abilities. I would take it as a personal affront if you were to prove me wrong.”

  He watched Brendan’s Adam’s apple bob with great satisfaction.

  “That’s all Brendan. I hear Seraphina already has Ophelia hunting down resources for materials. I’d suggest making sure I don’t get left out of the loop, were I you.”

  Brendan scuttled from Grant’s office more quickly than he’d entered, and less certain. Some of the cockiness and surefootedness had abandoned him. In the end, Grant’s role in all this may remain a secret, and there’d be some public fallout for his bad judgment in hiring Brendan Berkley. In the very least, he could get a few good swipes in while he held some degree of power. He decided he didn’t dislike the man, after all. He despised him.