Flash Page 7

  Never, ever underestimate the value of information, Rollie had added. You can never have too much of it.

  Rose sighed. “It’s true that poor Melwood hasn’t been himself lately. That brush with cancer, you know. He’s going to be all right, but it gave him a terrible scare.”

  Olivia hesitated. “What kind of cancer was it?”

  “Basal cell carcinoma. A type of skin cancer.” Rose rattled off the diagnosis with the smooth precision of a dermatologist. “Rarely fatal if caught early. But Melwood was badly shaken.”

  “The word cancer has that effect on people.”

  “True. And Melwood is something of a hypochondriac.” Rose eyed the closed door again with a foreboding look. “I’m afraid his problems may be only the beginning around here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s change in the wind,” Rose muttered ominously. “I can feel it.”

  “Don’t panic,” Olivia said crisply. “I’m still here, remember? And I own darn near half the company. I can handle Jasper Sloan.”

  “I hope so,” Rose said.

  “I’ve got to run.”

  Rose’s gaze sharpened. “By the way, I assume you’ve heard about your cousin Nina? Beth says it looks as if she and Sean Dane are getting very serious.”

  Olivia was proud of herself. Her smile did not flicker by so much as a millimeter. “I heard.”

  “Life is strange, isn’t it?” Rose mused. “Who would have thought that Nina would have fallen in love with Logan Dane’s brother?”

  “Go figure. See you later, Aunt Rose.” Olivia fled past her and escaped into the relative safety of the hallway.

  What in the world was the matter with her? she wondered as she walked swiftly toward the elevators. It certainly wasn’t the gossip concerning her cousin Nina’s growing relationship with Sean Dane that had produced this funny hot-cold feeling. She had heard the rumors days ago.

  It was Jasper’s invitation to dinner that shook her. She was acting as if he had suggested an affair instead of a working dinner.

  An affair. Now there was a concept.

  If social dinners with interesting men were rare events in her life, the number of affairs she’d had fell into the vanishingly small category. There had been no serious relationships at all since Logan had died.

  She refused to count those brief months with Crawford Lee Wilder a year and a half ago. That had been a mistake, she thought, but not an affair, thank God. Some sense of intuition had made her resist his slick, polished attempts to get her into bed.

  She was aware that some of her relatives, Aunt Rose, for example, feared that she was secretly carrying a torch for Logan Dane. Olivia knew that was not the case, but she also knew that she did not want to look too closely at the real truth.

  The harsh reality, she thought, was that she had lost her nerve when it came to love. Give her a good, convoluted, complicated business crisis any day. Business she could handle.

  Which was why it was imperative that the problem of Jasper Sloan stay under the heading of business.

  It would be a working dinner, she thought. Just keep repeating that over and over. A working dinner.

  She came to a halt in front of the elevators and stabbed the button.

  “Hi, Olivia,” a cheerful voice called. “How’s it hanging?”

  “Hey, Olivia,” another voice said a little too loudly. “Come to save Glow from the big bad wolf?”

  Olivia stifled a groan. She turned her head to see her cousins Quincy and Percy ambling toward her down the hall. The twins were attired in their usual jeans, short-sleeved, nerd-pack-equipped sport shirts, and running shoes. They both wore thick-framed glasses. As usual, they had soft drinks and candy bars in their hands. The geek look, they frequently assured her, was trendy.

  “Hi, guys.” She glanced at the soda and snacks. “Break time?”

  “You got it.” Quincy glanced past her down the hall toward the executive suite. His brows bounced above the frames of his glasses. “So, are the rumors true? Is Sloan really going to fire good old Melwood?”

  “No,” Olivia said.

  Percy cast a quick look around and then leaned in close. “What’s all this stuff about a merger?”

  “Nothing to it.” Olivia stabbed futilely at the stubborn elevator button. “Wish I could hang around and chat, but I’m really busy today.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Quincy stuffed half a candy bar into his mouth. “Me and Percy have to get back to the lab. Sloan’s putting the pressure on. He wants all kinds of task updates ready by five o’clock.”

  “Guy doesn’t cut any slack,” Percy said cheerfully. “You oughta see what’s on the schedule for tomorrow’s staff meeting. He wants all of us there, not just the managers.”

  “Word is, he’s going to push the new electroluminescent development project hard.”

  Olivia took a close look at Percy and Quincy. Neither appeared offended or anxious by the shakeup in the tech labs where they worked. If anything, they seemed to be excited. There was an energetic enthusiasm about them that she had not noticed when Rollie had been in charge.

  “That’s great,” she said. She punched the elevator button a few more times.

  Percy started past her. “Hey, you hear about cousin Nina and Sean Dane?”

  Olivia tried not to stiffen. “Yes.”

  “Somethin’ else, huh?” Quincy took a huge bite out of his candy bar. “Who’d have guessed that she and Sean would get together? Mom says she thinks they’re going to get engaged soon.”

  “That’s nice,” Olivia said blandly.

  “See ya.”

  “Ciao, cuz.”

  Mercifully, Percy and Quincy moved off down the hall.

  The elevator doors finally opened a moment later. A short, bald little man with a pinched face stepped out. He was dressed in a neutral suit that blended into the neutral wall and the neutral office carpet.

  “Mr. Gill.” Olivia stepped back quickly. She always had the uneasy feeling that she might accidentally step on Melwood Gill. He was the kind of person you barely noticed unless he was right in front of you.

  “Ms. Chantry.” Melwood moved hastily out of the way and gave her his shy, apologetic smile. “So sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “My fault, Mr. Gill.” No one, so far as Olivia knew, not even Uncle Rollie, had ever called him Melwood to his face.

  “No, no, it was my fault.” Melwood made an obvious effort to straighten his thin shoulders, but they slumped forward again almost at once. “My mind was elsewhere.” He glanced down the corridor to the door of the executive suite and seemed to shrink in on himself. “I expect you’ve heard the news?”

  Instinctively, Olivia opened her mouth to tell him that she knew about his recent demotion and that she fully intended to defend him that very evening.

  But something made her hesitate. She thought about the printouts on Jasper’s desk. What if there really was a problem in the accounting department? Jasper’s words slammed through her head. It’s essential that you and I present a united front….

  Maybe it would be best to pretend for the moment that she knew nothing at all about Melwood’s predicament, Olivia thought. There were times when taking the coward’s way out was the only way to avoid painting oneself into a corner. In management-speak it was known as finessing the situation.

  “Please excuse me, Mr. Gill.” She stepped briskly into the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor. “I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to rush back to Light Fantastic. We’re absolutely swamped this month.”

  “I’m so pleased to hear that business is good for you, Ms. Chantry,” he whispered dolefully.

  “Couldn’t be better.” She winced as a flicker of guilt shafted through her. It was unkind to rub poor Melwood’s nose in her success on the very day that he had been demoted.

  Fortunately the elevator doors closed quickly. Olivia sagged against the wall as the cab descended six floors to street level. She had n
ot handled that small, uncomfortable scene well at all, she thought. Perhaps she should have talked to Melwood about the situation.

  … a united front…

  The memory of Melwood’s sad, resigned expression stayed with her as she walked down Western Avenue toward the Light Fantastic studios.

  She told herself that it wasn’t acute depression she had seen in Melwood’s eyes, just the perfectly normal unhappiness one would expect in a man who had been transferred to a less important position in his company.

  She was still pondering what to do about Melwood Gill when she walked into the studio a few minutes later and found it deserted except for Zara.

  Olivia’s concerns about Melwood were instantly submerged beneath a far more pressing problem.

  Her aunt was perched on the high swivel chair at the drafting table, crying quietly to herself. Olivia knew at once that something gravely serious had occurred. Zara was sobbing just the way her character, Sybil, had on the episode of Crystal Cove in which she had learned that she might have to have brain surgery.

  “Zara.”

  Olivia rushed across the studio, threading her way through the maze created by Merlin’s Cave, five massive silver-foil flower arrangements, several boxes of red, white, and blue banners and a stack of electrical cords.

  Zara straightened quickly and dabbed wildly at her eyes with a tissue. “I didn’t hear you come in, dear.”

  Olivia halted on the opposite side of the drafting table and surveyed the mascara that ran down Zara’s cheeks. “What on earth is wrong?”

  “Nothing, dear.” Zara’s smile was the same brave smile Sybil had given Nick the day she told him that she might not survive the brain operation.

  “Don’t give me that,” Olivia said. “You know damn well I won’t buy it. Tell me the truth.”

  “I’m just feeling a little blue.”

  “Zara, please, this is Olivia you’re talking to. Tell me what is wrong.”

  With her uncanny knack for positioning herself in the most flattering light, Zara raised her chin and tilted her head. The profile she gave Olivia was the one Sybil had turned to the camera on the episode in which she had told Nick that she was leaving him for his own good.

  “There is nothing you can do, my dear.” Zara blotted her eyes once more. “There is nothing anyone can do. I am doomed.”

  Olivia’s stomach clenched. “Oh, God, Zara. Is it a medical problem? A real one” She grasped her aunt by the shoulders. “You have to tell me.”

  Zara’s eyes widened. “Good grief, no, it’s not a medical condition. I’m perfectly healthy.”

  “Thank heavens.” Olivia’s insides untwisted. “Let’s have it. I’m not going to walk away and pretend I didn’t find you sobbing like Sybil in the episode where she discovered that Nick had an affair with her best friend, Alicia.”

  Zara tensed. Then she heaved a sigh and slumped in the chair. “I suppose I’ll have to tell you everything now. In my heart, I knew that sooner or later, somewhere, someday, it would all come back to haunt me.”

  “What would come back?”

  “I knew I wouldn’t be able to bury it forever.”

  “Bury what?”

  “He only wants a few hundred dollars this time. I can scrape that together.” Zara plucked another tissue from the box. “But it will be more next time, won’t it? That’s always the way it is with this sort of thing. Eventually he’ll bleed me dry.”

  Olivia stared at her, stunned. “Zara, are you trying to tell me that you’ve got a drug problem?”

  “Drugs?” Zara looked suitably scandalized. “Of course not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Didn’t I make it clear? I’m being blackmailed.”

  8

  Olivia walked through Pike Place Market dressed in an oversized denim poet shirt, a pair of old, badly faded jeans, and a shapeless, wide-brimmed hat pulled down very low over her ears and eyes. She entered an espresso bar in Post Alley and purchased a triple-shot latte.

  Cup in hand, she chose a tiny table and hunkered down to wait.

  The windowed walls of the espresso bar were open so that the customers could enjoy the sights and sounds of the colorful alley. From her vantage point, Olivia surveyed the terrain through a pair of darkly tinted sunglasses crafted with her regular prescription.

  She was not completely satisfied with her disguise, but she told herself it would have to do. There had been little time to come up with anything really clever. Less than an hour, in fact. The blackmailer’s note had been very specific. A missed payment meant that the price would double next time.

  The Market swarmed with the usual mix of tourists in search of souvenirs and cold-smoked salmon, office workers in search of quick lunches, and street musicians in search of an audience. In addition to the customary assortment of characters, Olivia thought, there was also one extremely amateur sleuth in search of a blackmailer.

  The project seemed simple enough. Optimism rose within her. How hard could it be to keep an eye on the small yellow paper bag Zara had left on the edge of the large planter?

  The planter, itself, was about thirty feet away on the opposite side of a busy courtyard. It stood near the entrance to a small arcade filled with craft and food shops.

  Olivia slouched lower in her chair, trying to appear invisible as she pretended to sip her latte. Her goal today was to identify whoever picked up the yellow sack. The conversation with Zara had convinced her that the blackmailer had to be someone that her aunt knew well. If that was true, Olivia reasoned, she might recognize him, or her. Over the years she had met most of her aunt’s friends and acquaintances.

  Even if she did not know whoever it was who retrieved the bag, she could at least get a description that would identify the blackmailer to Zara.

  Once they knew who the bastard was, Olivia thought, she would decide what to do next. Zara was adamant about not going to the police, but there were alternatives.

  A scruffy-looking man with a beard and a guitar wandered past the front of the espresso bar. Olivia watched to see if he headed toward the planter. When he walked straight past it into the arcade, she turned her attention to two stylishly dressed women pushing strollers. The little vehicles were laden with sleepy toddlers and bags full of fresh-cut flowers. Camouflage for a team of blackmailers?

  I’m going off the deep end here, Olivia thought.

  For a few seconds the women with the strollers came between Olivia and the yellow sack. She leaned to one side to keep the paper bag in sight.

  A large shadow fell across the tiny table.

  Olivia barely managed to swallow a startled shriek. “Jasper.”

  “I got your message.” Jasper took the chair across from her. He put a cup of coffee down on the table. “This had better be good.”

  Olivia jerked herself back to an upright position. “What are you doing here?”

  “You tell me. It’s not like I didn’t have anything else to do this afternoon. What was so damn important that it couldn’t wait until tonight?”

  She stared at him in amazement. He was not in a good mood. That made two of them, she thought.

  “You’re blocking my view.”

  “Sorry.” He did not sound sorry. He picked up his cup and took a swallow. Above the rim his eyes gleamed with irritation. “I probably ought to mention that I’m not a real spontaneous kind of guy. I don’t like being summoned out of an important meeting on a whim.”

  “Get out of my way,” she hissed, straining to see around his broad shoulders.

  “Get out of your way or what?” He lowered the cup. “Did you call me here to issue threats? You could have done that in my office.”

  “It’s not your office. It’s our office. Oh, damn.” She slammed down her coffee cup and leaped to her feet.

  A cluster of young Japanese tourists surged through the busy courtyard. They passed in a blur of black and white clothing emblazoned with New York designer logos.

  Olivia started around the
table, intent on keeping the yellow sack in sight. When she went past Jasper he reached out in a casual, almost absent way and snagged her wrist.

  “Let me go.” She tugged furiously to free herself.

  “I think I deserve an explanation. I left three department heads cooling their heels in the conference room to meet you here.”

  “Go back to your stupid conference.”

  The last of the young tourists disappeared into the shopping arcade. Olivia gazed anxiously at the planter.

  “Oh, damn,” she whispered. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  The yellow bag was gone.

  She scanned the courtyard in vain. The small crowd had dwindled. Whoever had retrieved the yellow bag had chosen his or her moment well.

  Furious, she turned on Jasper. “Now see what you’ve done.”

  He released her wrist and searched her face with enigmatic eyes. “What, exactly, have I done?”

  She threw up her hands. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything. Thanks to your lousy timing, I never even got a look at him.”

  “Maybe,” Jasper said slowly, “you ought to tell me what’s going on here.”

  “It’s none of your business.” She took one last look around the courtyard. “Nothing to do with you whatsoever.”

  “Now there is where you’ve got it all wrong,” he said softly.

  “What are you talking about?” She frowned as a thought struck her. “In fact, what in the world are you doing here in the first place?”

  “I’m here because someone, presumably yourself, sent word that you had to talk to me immediately.”

  “About what, for crying out loud?”

  “About, and I quote, an extremely urgent matter involving the future of Glow. The message said that you were waiting for me here at this espresso café in the Market.”

  “Good lord.” She stared at him, momentarily distracted. “You broke off an important meeting to rush down here just because you got some weird message telling you to do that?”

  “The message implied there was a serious situation.” Jasper paused meaningfully. “And we’re partners in the business. Not equal partners,” he elaborated carefully, “but partners, nevertheless. If I left a message for you telling you that something was wrong at Glow and that I had to see you immediately, I’m sure you’d come running, too.”