Foolproof (Iris Thorne Mysteries Book 4)

by Dianne Emley

  The girl hunkered down closer to her drawing and ignored Summer.

  Outraged, Summer clenched her fists by her sides and looked through the French doors into the family room where Kip was intently working. Summer stomped to the house, pulled open a door, rattling the glass panes, stepped inside, and roughly pulled it closed behind her.

  Kip had stopped typing and was sitting facing the laptop computer with his hands clasped in his lap, his upper body slightly rocking back and forth. The monitor’s screen saver clicked on and colorful tropical fish began swimming across the screen.

  Summer watched him, angrily tapping her tanned foot. A thin gold ring circled her second toe.

  Kip continued rocking. He spoke without turning his head. “Do not bother me. I am working.”

  “Working? You’re staring!”

  He pounded his forehead with his index finger. “I’m thinking! I know it’s a difficult concept for you, but give it a try.”

  “Bastard!” She walked up the steps that led from the family room to the arched corridor, the soles of her stiff sandals loud on the tile floor.

  Still not looking at her, Kip said, “And I don’t like you tarting up my daughter like that.”

  Summer spun around, her long blonde hair flying over her shoulder. “Tarting up? We’re wearing matching outfits. It’s cute.”

  “Summer, you put makeup on her yesterday. She’s not your toy. She’s not your daughter.”

  Summer’s fair complexion grew blotchy and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what I am around here anymore. All you do is work. Brianna acts like she doesn’t love me anymore. She’s hardly said two words to me since the Tylers brought her home yesterday.”

  “You’re the nanny, Summer. Your job is to take care of Brianna, not the other way around.”

  “Is that so? She’s not the only thing I take care of around here. I took care of a little something last night, didn’t I?”

  Kip shot a glance out the French doors at his daughter. She was still engrossed in drawing.

  Summer wailed, “It’s like you’re mad at me lately. What did I do?”

  “To begin with, you took down all the pictures of Bridget in the house.”

  “I didn’t think it was healthy for Brianna.”

  “You don’t want her to remember what her mother looked like?”

  “All right. I’ll put them back.”

  “Did you tell that publisher that you’re not writing that book?”

  “Ye-es.”

  Kip didn’t respond and continued looking straight ahead.

  “I just thought it was a good way to make some money. I know things are tight right now.”

  “Don’t be so concerned about my finances, okay?”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing, Kip.” Tears spilled from Summer’s eyes. “I thought things would be different between us.”

  “Brianna and I need a little time to adjust. Is that too much to ask?”

  Summer wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You want me to live here like your girlfriend and not date anyone else, but then you tell me, ‘All you are is the nanny.’ What am I supposed to do? I have feelings too, you know.”

  Kip rubbed his face with his hands. He stood and started walking across the room.

  She thought he was approaching her. She pranced down the steps but stopped, dejected, when he headed for the French doors. “I’m going to fix my face,” she said hopefully.

  He ignored her and went outside.

  Brianna had got up from the patio table and was walking along the edge of the pool, looking at the sky. Kip swooped her up in his arms and twirled around with her. She giggled as she looked at the spinning clouds. He nuzzled her neck and squeezed her tightly.

  “I missed you,” he murmured.

  “Hold me up higher, Daddy.” She grunted and stretched her small arms toward the sky.

  Kip obliged. “Why do you want to be so high?”

  “I want to touch Mommy in heaven.” She arched her back and grasped at the air. “That’s where Grandma says she is. She’s there, isn’t she, Daddy?”

  Kip looked up at the densely clouded, gray sky. He didn’t believe in God or heaven or hell. But he looked at his daughter, happy with the thought that her mother was everywhere and always with her, and he didn’t want to rob her of that small sense of security. “Yes, sweetheart. She’s there.”

  The phone rang.

  “Summer,” Kip called. “Answer the phone.”

  “It’s still ringing, Daddy.”

  Kip set his daughter down and ran to grab the portable phone from a small table next to a lounge chair.

  “Hello?”

  There was no answer, but the caller didn’t hang up.

  “Hello?” Kip said more loudly.

  Summer stood on the threshold of one of the French doors.

  Kip angrily clicked the phone off and looked at her.

  “Probably some crank,” she said, shrugging.

  “It’s the third time today and I had the number changed two days ago.”

  “I already know it by heart,” Brianna said from the patio table where she was again drawing.

  “Already?” Kip smiled at his daughter. “You’re a smart girl, Brianna.”

  “It’s not hard to find out an unlisted phone number,” Summer said.

  “I haven’t heard you get any crank calls,” Kip said to her. “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Summer had taken off the pink sweater that matched Brianna’s and now wore a white, long-sleeved top of stretch velour.

  “Maybe it’s because your boyfriend hangs up when I answer.”

  Summer dramatically frowned. “Boyfriend?”

  Kip laughed. “No wonder you can’t get any acting work if that’s the best you can do.” His smile turned sour. “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  He walked toward her, his body stiff and his arms tight by his sides. “Whatever you do, don’t make the mistake of playing me for a fool.”

  She protectively crossed her arms over her chest as he approached. “I’m telling you the truth, Kip.”

  He stopped a few inches from her face and angled toward her, his posture still rigid. His face was now bright red. “Don’t lie to me.”

  She flinched as he raised his hand above her head, still clutching her shoulders with her crisscrossed hands. “Kip—don’t!”

  He picked a leaf from her hair and looked at her with amusement. “What? Did you think I was going to hit you or something?”

  She rubbed her arms and bleated, “No.”

  “You’re afraid of me.” He seemed to consider the notion.

  “Don’t be silly, Kip.” She took a step away from him.

  “You are. You’re afraid of me.”

  “I’m done!” Brianna shouted as she waved the sheet of paper.

  Grateful for the excuse to flee Kip, Summer walked to Brianna and took the drawing from her. She gasped. Kip quickly grabbed it from Summer’s hands.

  Brianna explained her work. “That’s Mommy and that’s Slade Slayer. He hurt Mommy.”

  Kip studied the five-year-old’s rendering of her mother wearing a bathing suit, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Standing above her was a person dressed in black holding a crude gun drawn with silver crayon. The figure had short, yellow hair and a white gash to portray Slade Slayer’s snarl.

  “My God.” Summer pressed her fingertips against her mouth.

  “That’s Stetson.” Brianna pointed at a grayish black blob with four legs next to a large aqua square—the swimming pool. “I don’t think I did him too good.”

  Kip seemed mesmerized as he studied the drawing.

  “Brianna, did you draw pictures like that at your grandma’s house?” Summer asked.

  She nodded.

  Kip tore the paper in half.

  Summer and Brianna both looked at him, stunned.

  He tore it again and again into smaller and smaller pieces.<
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  “Daddy!” Brianna protested. “My picture!”

  “Kip!” Summer exclaimed. “Let her draw. It’s healthy. She has all that stuff bottled up.”

  Brianna’s mouth opened wide and her face grew red. At first, no sound came out. Then she emitted a long wail and the tears began to flow.

  Kip angrily crammed the pieces of paper into his jeans pockets. “I don’t see how that could possibly be healthy.”

  Brianna continued to wail.

  “You’re as bad as my in-laws,” Kip said. “All your psycho-babble. I’m not having it. I know what’s best for my daughter.” He reached for Brianna, but she ran from him and into Summer’s arms.

  Kip stormed into the house.

  Summer stroked the sobbing girl’s hair. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “What are you doing to me, T. Duke?”

  “Iris, I can’t fathom what in the world you mean.”

  “Most of the venture capitalists I invited to my meet and greet canceled. The ones who didn’t treated me like I had an infectious disease.” Iris smiled at Louise, who’d brought her a fresh and unsolicited mug of coffee. “When I issued the invitations, they were enthusiastic. What changed?” She sipped the steaming black coffee.

  “If you called for my opinion, I have one. Of course”—he chuckled—“I usually do. Two words: Kip Cross. When you set up the meeting, he was in jail. Now he’s out. The VCs don’t want to make a murderer who’s escaped justice rich.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the reason, but some of these guys would sell their mother’s liver to the highest bidder.”

  “Let’s consider another angle. Assume no one believes Kip Cross is a murderer. Was he at your meeting?”

  “No.”

  “Was I?”

  “No.”

  “How about Today or Mick or Toni?”

  Iris became defensive. “I know it’s important to impress VCs with the cohesiveness among a start-up’s management, but this was just a sniff test.”

  “Iris, I don’t need to tell you that these are busy people. You know you have to put on your best dog and pony show because you may not get another chance. I suspect that you didn’t include the other Pandora principals because you didn’t want to reveal the divisiveness that exists within the ranks.”

  Iris hated to admit that he was right. “But that shouldn’t have anything to do with the VCs’ faith in the future of Pandora.”

  T. Duke scolded, “Iris, Iris, Iris.”

  She silently stewed.

  “I’ve been around the venture capital world a long time. Let me give you a tip. Everything counts.”

  She was out of her league and she knew it. The sad thing was, she could learn a lot sitting at T. Duke’s knee, if she didn’t despise him. She stood, began pacing behind her desk, and came clean. “You’re right, T. Duke. I tried to pull a fast one on the VCs, but I think the real reason they chilled on Pandora has little to do with the firm’s potential.”

  “Oh no?”

  “You kept them away.”

  “Go on. I’m dying to hear what you’ve come up with now.”

  “You don’t want Pandora to get outside money. You want Pandora for yourself and everyone knows it. I don’t know if you threatened the VCs—”

  He gleefully laughed.

  “—or they simply don’t want to get on your bad side.” She lunged for the phone, which she’d almost pulled off the desk while she was pacing.

  T. Duke continued laughing. “Iris, you tickle me.”

  As he laughed, Iris blushed. She was grateful he couldn’t see her.

  “Lord, if I only had that kind of influence. I wouldn’t have been indicted, that’s for darn sure. There’s one thing and one thing only that motivates investors, whether it’s grandma trying to secure her golden years or a venture capitalist trying to turn arbitrage profits. Money. There’s nothing that’s going to stand in an investor’s way if he smells money. You know this, Iris, probably better than I do. Detach your emotions and look at the situation coolly. There are no dark motivations behind my involvement with Pandora. I’m about as simple a guy as you’ll find. I’m in this to make money. Frankly, Iris, the more Pandora flounders, the less it’s going to be worth. I know you want to do right by that little girl. Take a tip and accept my offer of five dollars a share. Tell you what, I’ll go to five-fifteen, for the sake of the child.”

  “Things aren’t as black-and-white as you pretend, T. Duke.”

  “Help me understand these complications that elude me.”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened to Harry Hagopian?”

  “Harry Hagopian?” T. Duke paused as if giving the dead a moment of silence. “Poor Harry. They say his car crash was really a suicide.”

  “He didn’t want to sell to you, now he’s dead. Bridget didn’t want to sell to you, now she’s dead. Now you and I are on the wrong side of the fence. Is there an accident in my future?”

  “Iris, I’m going to overlook your tactless suggestion. I know I don’t have to remind you that your primary obligation concerning Pandora is preserving the shareholders’ investment. Bridget Cross was a smart lady. Her strategy for Pandora was a good one and she might have been able to pull it off. But that was then. Pandora’s fortunes have changed. I admire your loyalty to Bridget’s dream. However, consider that you may be wrong. Consider how you would feel if, instead of earning Brianna Cross’s trust five dollars and fifteen cents a share, you end up with nothing. Consider that, Iris, then let’s talk again.”

  T. Duke placed the telephone into its cradle on his black marble desk. He looked at Baines, who was standing next to the closed door that led to the outer office.

  “Shall I bring her back in?” Baines asked.

  T. Duke nodded. He looked out the window across the low industrial buildings, citrus groves, and fields of Somis.

  Baines returned with Toni Burton.

  T. Duke stood when she entered. “Ms. Burton, I apologize for interrupting our conversation. I was so delighted by your unexpected visit. Let’s sit over here on the couch.”

  Toni sat on one end of the leather couch and entwined her legs, crossing them and hooking the foot of the top around the ankle of the bottom. She was conservatively dressed in a gray, chalk-striped slack suit worn with a white mock-turtleneck sweater. She bubbled, “I’m thrilled you took the time to talk to me. You must be so busy.”

  “I’m never too busy to talk to you.”

  “Like I was saying, I’m in a good position to influence Iris. Don’t get me wrong! I think the world of her, but she should accept your offer.” She quickly raised her index finger. “But not for the reasons you probably think.”

  T. Duke had a pleasant smile on his lips, as he always did regardless of his underlying emotions. He nodded, encouraging her to go on, his piercing eyes twinkling.

  Toni needed no encouragement. “You know that Today Rhea and Mick Ha also want Iris to sell, but they’re only in it for the money.” She raised both hands. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  T. Duke raised his eyebrows. His heavily pomaded, thin hair moved back and forth with the motion of his scalp. “And what motivates you to want to sell?”

  Toni uncrossed her legs and planted both feet firmly on the floor. She pursed her Kewpie doll lips as if she hated what she was about to say, but had a duty to say it. She spoke deliberately. “It’s time someone did something about the degeneration of the ethics in this country. I understand and agree with your mission and would like to help in any way I can.”

  T. Duke exchanged a look with Baines, who had resumed his post in the doorway.

  Before T. Duke could comment, Toni added, “Your mission’s no secret to me. I saw the letter to Bridget from Darvis Brown, Grand Eagle of the Trust Makers. Then I noticed Baines’s lapel pin. You’re members, aren’t you? Both of you. I’ll bet the principals of USA Assets are Trust Makers also. That’s what USA
Assets is all about, isn’t it? When companies who promulgate sex and violence won’t restrain themselves, you buy into them and try to change them from the inside.” She closed her eyes. “It’s so simple and so brilliant.”

  Neither T. Duke or Baines said anything, but both of them attentively watched Toni.

  “You’re probably wondering why I stayed with Pandora if I find their games offensive.” Toni nervously chewed on a polished but bitten-down fingernail. “I have to confess that my conscience began to bother me more and more during my years at Pandora. I was in a bad spot and needed a job when I began working there. I just went along to go along, you know. Five years ago, the games weren’t nearly as realistic as they are today. As the graphics became more lifelike and as more explicit sexual themes were added, I mentioned my concerns to Bridget and Kip. You can imagine Kip’s response.”

  T. Duke smiled wryly.

  “Bridget was more receptive but basically said they have to give the public what they want. I kept my mouth shut and I’m sorry I did. But my moment to take a stand has come.” Toni primly clasped her hands in her lap and batted her eyes at T. Duke.

  T. Duke cleared his throat and spoke in a soothing voice. “Well, young lady, any assistance you can give in convincing Iris Thorne to sell Pandora to the Sawyer Company would be most appreciated. You have my personal guarantee that your efforts will be amply rewarded. Please feel free to stop by or call me anytime.” With both hands on his knees, T. Duke pushed himself up from the couch.

  Toni hesitantly stood, as if disappointed the meeting was so quickly over. “You’re saying I’m right—that you want to take over Pandora for ethical, not financial reasons?”

  T. Duke stepped from behind the coffee table and held his arm out to indicate he wanted her to follow. Baines opened the door into the outer office and stood waiting for Toni to leave. Sitting on a couch there was a tall, slender woman with straight red hair, wearing a short skirt that was hiked well up her thighs. She wore very high heels. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

  Toni clutched T. Duke’s arm and squeezed it. Even in his raised-heel cowboy boots, he was only slightly taller than she. “Please, T. Duke, it would give me such comfort if I knew that you and other powerful men are actively working to save the country. Tell me I’m right.”