“Mr. Justis, I assure you the opening you have sounds very interesting, and I will give it my closest consideration, but I really must have a few days to think about it. And I’m sure you’ll want to interview other people.”
“Uh, no, I don’t,” he said flatly, stunned by this turn of events. “I’m offering you the job.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate it. I’ll let you know my decision next week.”
“Next week?” he repeated. “Next week?”
“Yes. At that time, if I decide to accept your offer, we can discuss the pension plan you’re offering.” She rose to leave, a graceful woman who moved with confidence. “Good-bye, Mr. Justis. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made my decision.”
Zac stared after her, stricken. The closing of the door jolted him out of his trance. He grabbed the phone and dialed the number of Camelot Services. When Trina answered, he didn’t even give her time to finish the greeting.
“Put Gwen on the phone,” Zac ordered. “Now.”
“I’m sorry, Zac, I can’t do that. She’s at Gage and Watson.”
“Oh, hell, that’s right.” He glanced irritably at his watch. “Then call Gage and Watson, and tell her I want to talk to her immediately.”
“What’s the matter, Zac? Didn’t Evelyn Pemberton work out?”
“Just get hold of Gwen. Tell her she’s got a very unhappy client on her hands. Namely, me.” He dropped the receiver into the cradle and waited for Gwen to call, drumming his fingers on the desk. It took ten long minutes. When the instrument did ring, he snatched it up.
“Zac? What’s wrong? Trina said you sounded upset.”
“You told me Evelyn Pemberton was mine if I wanted her.”
“She is.”
“Well, I want her, and she doesn’t seem to want me. What the hell went wrong? I thought you knew what you were doing when it came to this sort of thing. Lord knows, I waited long enough to get even one potential candidate out of you. Now the candidate tells me she’ll think about the offer and get back to me next week sometime. Furthermore, if she does decide to take the job, she made it clear she wants to know about my pension plan. Gwen, I haven’t got a pension plan.”
“Is that all? Zac, she’s a pro. She’s going to make you cool your heels a bit so you’ll appreciate her all the more when she agrees to take the job. Don’t worry, she’ll say yes when she calls.”
“Christ, you’d think I was asking her to marry me!”
“She’s not being coy; she’s being businesslike. Trust me, Zac.”
“You keep saying that,” he complained. “What about my nonexistent pension plan?”
“I know what I’m doing. And I’ll put you in touch with the people who can help you set up a small pension plan. Now stop worrying. Listen, I was going to call you anyway. Meet me for lunch, okay? I want to consult.”
“Consult about what?” Then it clicked. “Oh, yeah, your big case.”
“Why is it I keep getting the impression you’re not taking my big case seriously?”
“I am taking it seriously. I think it’s a complete and utter waste of your time and money, but I’m taking it seriously.”
“Sure.” She didn’t sound mollified. “All right, pick me up for lunch at noon. I’ll meet you in the lobby of the building.”
“Okay. Listen, Gwen, are you sure about Evelyn Pemberton?”
“Trust me, Zac.”
Zac hung up with a groan and sat glaring for a few minutes at the two Mason Adair paintings he had hanging on the walls of his tiny office. For a moment he simply stared at them. Then he thought about Gwen and her big case, and a reluctant smile curved the edges of his mouth. He was beginning to enjoy her Nancy Drew enthusiasm. There were a lot of things he enjoyed about Guinevere Jones.
***
Guinevere was all business as she sat down to lunch with Zac in a small deli between First and Western Avenues. “I’ve been thinking all morning about what you said last night,” she began, watching him bite into a huge sandwich.
“Nice to know you’re hanging on my every word.”
“About my purse,” she reminded him. “Zac, please pay attention. I’m trying to consult with you.”
“My usual consulting fee is two hundred dollars an hour.”
“How about I pay for lunch?”
“It’s a deal.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got fifty minutes left.”
Guinevere considered giving him a swift kick under the table but decided against it. She realized Zac was finding her current efforts amusing, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pick his brain—if she could just keep his attention from wandering. She leaned forward intently.
“I think you’re right about someone having gone through my purse, reporting certain details to Madame Zoltana before my appointment last night.”
“I know I’m right.” He took another satisfying bite of his sandwich.
“I’ve done some observation this morning, and the way I figure it, there aren’t too many people who would have had access to my purse. The most likely suspect is Francine Bates, and she’s the one who originally turned Sally on to Madame Zoltana. Francine has this nice, motherly sort of personality. I can just see Sally confiding in her about the baby and everything.”
“Have you got any evidence against Francine?”
“Nope. So I’ve decided to set a trap.”
Zac chewed thoughtfully for a moment before repeating cautiously, “A trap?”
“That’s right. I want to see what you think of my idea.” Guinevere sat back and smiled brilliantly.
He sighed. “Go ahead. It’s your hour.”
“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to give Francine some exciting little tidbit and make sure that no one besides her knows about it. Then I’ll see if Madame Zoltana mentions it at the next session.”
“Hmm. When’s the next session?”
“I’m going to call Zoltana this afternoon and set it up as soon as possible.”
Zac finished the first half of his sandwich. “What’s the tidbit you’re going to give Francine?”
“Oh, I thought I’d tell her I’m worrying about my brother going back to jail,” Guinevere said airily.
“You don’t have a brother.”
“That’s the whole point, Zac. When that false bit of information crops up during a session, I’ll know for sure that Francine was the one who planted it. Then I’ll have proof that she and Zoltana are working together.”
Zac shook his head and reached for the other half of his sandwich. “The only one you’ll prove anything to is yourself. Zoltana’s clients probably won’t believe you.”
“Well, I can certainly make a scene at Gage and Watson, and most of the doubters will believe me.”
“Does it occur to you that Madame Zoltana and her cohort aren’t going to be thrilled when you start accusing them of conspiracy?”
“What can they do about it?”
“Sue you for slander,” Zac suggested mildly.
Guinevere frowned. “Nonsense. I’ll be telling the truth.”
“It’s going to be your word against theirs,” he pointed out.
“Well, at the very least, I’m going to make sure Sally Evenson knows the truth. Besides, someone like Zoltana is not about to sue. She’d have to prove her powers are for real, and she couldn’t do that.”
“Just keep telling yourself that when you find yourself hiring a lawyer.”
“Don’t try to alarm me, Zac.”
“Okay. Is the consultation over?”
“I guess so,” Guinevere said reluctantly. “Although you haven’t exactly been a big help.”
“Consultants get paid whether they’re a big help or not. It’s one of the joys of consulting work. Now, if you’re
finished, you can tell me how the hell I’m supposed to set up a pension plan for a single employee.”
Guinevere grinned. “That kind of consulting will cost you lunch tomorrow.”
“You’re a hard woman, Guinevere Jones.”
“It’s the company I’ve been keeping lately,” she explained.
***
Guinevere planted her false tidbit with great care right after lunch. She walked back into the office with her head bent over a letter she held in her hand, making sure her expression was troubled, and when she sat down beside Francine Bates, she didn’t give her the usual friendly greeting.
Francine watched for a while as Guinevere made a show of concentrating intently on her work. Finally the older woman spoke.
“Everything okay, Gwen? You look worried.”
Guinevere sniffed slightly and reached for a tissue. “I’m fine,” she said through a bleak smile as she dabbed delicately at her nose. She’d never done any acting. Warning herself not to overplay the part, she added wearily, “Family problems. You know how it is.”
“That’s for sure,” Francine said consolingly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it, though.”
“I wouldn’t want to burden you with my personal problems,” Guinevere said bravely, stuffing the tissue back into her purse.
“I don’t mind, Gwen. What are friends for?”
After that it was easy. During the afternoon coffee break, Guinevere allowed Francine to coax the whole sordid story out of her.
“We all thought he was doing so well,” she concluded dismally. “My parents had such hopes, and now he goes and gets himself arrested again. Oh, he claims he’s innocent, of course, but who’s going to believe him with his record? If only he hadn’t gone to Los Angeles.”
“Just another young kid drawn by the bright lights of Southern California,” Francine said sadly. “Happens all the time. How is the rest of the family coping?”
“About as you’d expect. My mother is heartbroken. Dad is disgusted. I’m not sure he’s going to be willing to hire a lawyer this time.”
“What an awful situation.”
“If only I knew what to do and what was going to happen next.” Guinevere summoned a shaky smile. “I’m half thinking about going back to Madame Zoltana’s. I’m not sure I believe in her powers, but I honestly don’t know where else to turn.”
“Why not?” Francine agreed gently. “She might be able to give you a little hope, and we all need that from time to time.”
“I think I’ll give her a call before we go back to work,” Guinevere said with sudden conviction.
But there was no answer when Guinevere dialed Madame Zoltana’s number. She waited impatiently another hour and then slipped out of the office to try calling again.
“Any luck?” Francine asked when Guinevere returned from the second attempt.
“No. I guess she’s out for the day.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to reach her this evening.”
“Maybe.”
But Guinevere couldn’t get hold of Madame Zoltana that evening, either. It was very frustrating, and she told Zac as much when he showed up at her door after work.
“My big plan is going down the tubes, Zac. Why isn’t she answering her phone? I was all set to see her again today after I left Gage and Watson.”
“Who knows? Maybe she’s taken a temporary vacation on another astral plane.” Zac wandered into the kitchen to see what Guinevere had going for dinner.
“I do wish you’d stop making jokes about this case, Zac,” she muttered as she followed him into the bright yellow kitchen.
“You never want me to have any fun,” he observed as he reached for the tequila bottle in her cupboard.
Guinevere mumbled something under her breath. “Did you mention earlier that you were inviting yourself for dinner this evening?” she asked meaningfully.
“I don’t believe I did. When I left the office my feet just sort of naturally turned in this direction.” He poured the tequila and recapped the bottle. “Did you make enough for two?”
Guinevere grinned. “Luckily for you I just sort of naturally bought enough shrimp for two.”
“I think I begin to see a pattern developing in our lives,” Zac said with a certain satisfaction.
***
Guinevere had no more luck getting hold of the elusive Zoltana the following morning. She was becoming increasingly frustrated, but she forgot some of her irritation when Francine Bates showed up late for work. For the first time since she had met Francine, the older woman was not cheerful or friendly. She seemed withdrawn and preoccupied. Guinevere began to wonder if perhaps Francine and Madame Zoltana had put two and two together and decided they were being set up by one Guinevere Jones.
“I think my cover may be blown,” Guinevere confided to Zac at lunchtime. “Francine hasn’t said two words to me all day, and I can’t get hold of Madame Zoltana. Do you think they might have become suspicious when they discovered I was really the owner of Camelot Services, and not just another employee?”
“I don’t see why. As far as they know, you were just filling in for one of your employees and didn’t want to have everyone know you owned the firm,” Zac reassured her.
“Well, what do I do now?”
Zac shrugged. “You could see if anyone else has had any better luck getting an appointment with Zoltana. If someone else has, you can assume Zoltana’s probably avoiding you.”
Guinevere brightened. “That’s an excellent idea, Zac. Sometimes you’re positively brilliant.”
“I know,” he said modestly.
She went back to Gage and Watson determined to track down Mary and Ruth. Mary hadn’t tried to get hold of Madame Zoltana, but Ruth had made an effort three times the previous day and had failed. She seemed very depressed about the situation.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confided to Guinevere. “I’ve got to talk to her. I’m going crazy with worry. She always seems to know what’s happening, and she’s been keeping things under control for me. I know you might not believe it, but it’s true. Now I can’t reach her, and I’m frantic.”
On a hunch, Guinevere tried Sally Evenson next. Sally seemed happy enough in her new temporary assignment, but when Guinevere asked her about Madame Zoltana, she didn’t sound quite so cheerful.
“I have an appointment with her after work this afternoon, Miss Jones. I know you think I shouldn’t go, but I have to go.”
“I understand, Sally. Look, do me a favor, and call me after you’ve seen her, all right? I want to talk to you about the session.”
“Well, all right.”
But when Sally phoned Guinevere at home that evening, her voice sounded odd, as if she was half relieved, half terrified. “There was no one home, Miss Jones. I went to her house just like I always do, and she wasn’t there. What do you think it means? Maybe she isn’t going to help me anymore.”
“Sally, listen to me. Madame Zoltana wasn’t helping you to begin with. She has no more psychic power than I do. You’ve just saved twenty bucks.”
“Thirty,” Sally said almost inaudibly.
“Thirty!”
“That’s what I’ve been paying lately, ever since she said she could keep things under control for me. Oh, Miss Jones, I don’t know what to do!”
Guinevere glanced through the kitchen door at Zac, who had his feet up on her coffee table while he read the evening paper. He seemed to be ignoring the conversation. “Sally, you’re an adult woman with a good job. You have your own life under control. You don’t need anyone else to control it for you. Now, tell me how you like your new assignment.”
They talked for a few more minutes, and Guinevere tried to find lots of encouraging things to say. When they hung up, she went thoughtfully out into the living room, pl
unking herself down beside Zac on the sofa.
“You know what I think?” she demanded.
“What?” He looked up from the newspaper.
“I think Madame Zoltana is lying low.”
“You could be right. But I’m not quite sure why she would bother. To be honest, Gwen, you aren’t much of a threat.”
“Hah! I’ll bet Madame Zoltana thinks I am,” Guinevere said with some satisfaction. “Let me have the comics.” She reached for a section of the paper. “I think I’ll drive by Madame Zoltana’s tomorrow and see if she’s at home.”
“Waste of time,” Zac promised.
* * *
Zac was right, Guinevere had to admit the next day after work when she parked in front of Madame Zoltana’s little house. There was no sign of Madame Zoltana. All the drapes were still pulled, so she couldn’t peer through the windows, but after she’d knocked loudly several times, Guinevere was sure no one was home.
She walked back down the front path to the sidewalk and glanced around at the neighborhood. The only real neighbors lived in the big brick apartment house that filled up the block. They weren’t likely to have noted the actions of the local psychic who lived in the little house on the corner. Guinevere decided she could hardly just start knocking on apartment doors and asking questions. People would think she was nuts.
The following day, Francine Bates failed to show up for work. Guinevere was on the phone to Zac by noon.
“She’s not here, Zac. Miss Malcolm says she hasn’t phoned in sick or made any excuses. She simply didn’t show up. That’s very unusual behavior for Francine, according to everyone else in the office. I tried calling her at home, and there’s no answer. And no one has been able to get hold of Madame Zoltana, either. Zac, this is getting very mysterious.”
“Not nearly as mysterious as these forms I’m supposed to fill out for an employee pension plan. What have you gotten me into, Gwen?”
“Zac, your attention is wandering. We are discussing my case.”
“My professional opinion is that at the moment, you don’t have a case. Just as well. You weren’t getting paid for solving it, anyway. Now, about these forms . . .”
The Fatal Fortune Page 6