Absolutely, Positively

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Molly’s attention was on the gulls that soared and swooped like miniature fighter planes in pursuit of stray french fries and bits of fried fish. The soft breeze played with her hair the way an electric beater played with egg whites.

  Wistfully, Harry studied the graceful line of the nape of Molly’s neck. The deep hunger throbbed within him. He could almost feel her warm, silken skin. More hot images of the night drifted through his head. It was only about the thousandth time that day that they had interfered with his concentration. His hands tightened on the tray. Fortunately he had a lot of concentration.

  Harry put the tray of chowder down on the table. “Lunch is served. Red for you and white for me. Did I get it right?”

  Molly held a tendril of tawny hair out of her eyes and surveyed the two cups of chowder. “Right. How can you stand that thick, white, pasty stuff, anyway?”

  “Just one more point on which we differ,” Harry said equably as he sat down. It would probably be a good idea to remind himself more frequently of how little they had in common, he thought. It would help restore a certain crucial distance. “I like New England-style clam chowder. You prefer the red kind which amounts to nothing more than some clams and potatoes floating around in tomato juice.”

  “A matter of opinion,” she said loftily. “Any luck with the grant proposals?”

  “No. It’s going to take time to find what I’m looking for. If I have to go through all of the proposals it could take several days. The sort of details I’m after aren’t obvious. They’re subtle.”

  Molly tapped her plastic spoon impatiently against the rim of her chowder cup. “Days?”

  He looked up from his chowder. “You’ll stay with me until we nail the bastard.”

  “I will?”

  “Do you really want to go back to that big old spooky house by yourself every night and stay there all alone? Wondering what the son-of-a-bitch’s next little trick will be?”

  “It’s not spooky.” Molly closed her eyes and shuddered. “But, you’re right. I’m not sure I want to stay there alone at the moment.” Then she eyed him through her lashes. “I could stay with my aunt.”

  “And draw the prankster’s attention to her house?”

  A shocked expression lit Molly’s eyes. “Oh, my God. I can’t do that.”

  “You’ll be safe at my condo. The doormen are on duty twenty-four hours a day. They won’t let anyone into the building who isn’t supposed to be there.”

  “If you’re sure,” she said hesitantly.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, maybe just until we identify the prankster,” she clarified.

  “Right. Until we know who’s behind this.” It was settled. She would stay with him. Harry suppressed a rush of pleasure. “I’ll start looking for our rejected inventor immediately.”

  “You really think you can pick his work out of that pile of grant proposals?”

  “Given time, yes.”

  Molly shook her head. “Amazing. It’ll take hours of work.”

  “I know you’re not the patient type,” Harry said quietly.

  “But you are?”

  He shrugged. “It usually pays off.”

  “Just another little example of how different we are?” she asked smoothly. “Like our different tastes in clam chowder?”

  “Out of curiosity, which type of chowder does Gordon Brooke prefer?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. “Red or white?”

  “Gordon?” Molly wrinkled her nose. “Red, I think.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It strikes me that you and Brooke have a lot in common.”

  “Not really,” she said much too swiftly.

  “You’re both entrepreneurs.” Harry knew for certain now that he was on to something important. “You both sell similar products to a similar market base. Seems like you two would have a lot to talk about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Business problems,” Harry suggested. “Taxes. City government regulations on small businesses. That sort of thing.”

  “Okay, so we have some business problems in common. Big deal.”

  “You’re both single,” Harry pointed out.

  “So?”

  “So, I sensed a certain informality between the two of you,” Harry said dryly.

  “What is this? The Trevelyan Inquisition? All right, Gordon and I have known each other for a couple of years. We don’t have so much in common, however, that I intend to loan him fifty grand from the Abberwick Foundation.”

  Damn, Harry thought. So that’s what this is all about. The sucker is trying to use her. He ripped open a tiny packet of pepper. “Fifty thousand?”

  “Uh-huh.” Molly concentrated on her chowder.

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Gordon needs cash. He got overextended. He says he’s in financial trouble. He’s already had to close two of his espresso bars.”

  “Talk about raw nerve.” Harry dumped the pepper onto his chowder and tossed the empty packet aside in disgust. “He actually tried to convince you that his business plans qualify as an invention worthy of the backing of the Abberwick Foundation?”

  “Something like that.” Molly’s brows drew together in a small frown. “He’s been after me for several weeks now, but he didn’t tell me that he was actually on the brink of bankruptcy until today.”

  “He probably saved the sob story for the last-ditch effort.”

  Molly’s fingers tightened on the handle of her spoon. “He must be desperate to confess that he’s in danger of losing his business. I know him well enough to realize what that admission cost his pride.”

  Harry did not like the note of sympathy that had crept into her voice. “Just how well do you know him?”

  “As you said, Gordon and I have some business interests in common.

  “And you both like the same kind of chowder.”

  Molly glowered. “And his shop is right across the steps from mine. What of it?”

  “That well, huh?”

  “Sheesh, all right, already. I surrender. A year and a half ago Gordon and I were involved for a while. I’m sure you’ve guessed as much. Now, are you satisfied?”

  “You can’t blame me for being a little curious,” Harry said.

  “The heck I can’t.”

  “It’s only natural under the circumstances. You grilled me a bit on the subject of my ex-fiancée, if you will recall.”

  Molly blushed. “I guess that’s true. Okay, now we’re even.”

  “Not quite,” Harry murmured. “What happened between you and Brooke? Why did you two stop seeing each other?”

  Molly lifted one shoulder in an elaborately casual shrug. “You know how it is. A year and a half ago I was very busy with the legal and investment work required to set up my father’s foundation. I was also running my own business. And there was Kelsey to worry about. She was still in high school. What with one thing and another, there wasn’t much time left over for a personal life. Gordon and I just drifted apart. It’s over.”

  “How did it end? With a bang or a whimper?”

  Molly gave him a frosty look. “We’re not talking about the end of the universe as we know it. We’re talking about a casual dating relationship that sort of petered out.”

  “Petered out? An interesting expression, given the topic.”

  The frost in her eyes turned to ice. “You’re being difficult, Trevelyan.”

  “So how did it end?”

  “Good grief, you’re the most persistent man I’ve ever met.”

  “Part of my charm,” Harry said humbly.

  “Is it?” A glint appeared in Molly’s eyes. “If you must know, it ended with a hiss.”

  Harry paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “A hiss?�
�

  Molly’s smile was grim. “The sort of hissing shriek an espresso machine makes when the steam is forced through the ground coffee.”

  “I see. That kind of hiss.”

  “Exactly.”

  Harry considered the matter for a short time and then decided to push for the rest of the story. “Would you mind explaining the hiss?”

  Molly sighed. “Gordon and I had been dating for nearly two months. I thought things were going rather well. As you noted, we had a lot to talk about. But one day I walked into his shop shortly before closing time. The place was empty. The young woman who was usually on duty behind the counter was not around, but…”

  “But?”

  “But I thought I heard the sound of an espresso machine. The noise was coming from the storage room at the back of the shop.”

  “Ah,” Harry said. “I believe I begin to perceive the ending of this tale.”

  “It certainly doesn’t take ESP to do that,” Molly muttered.

  Harry stilled. He searched her face but saw no sign that she had intended any veiled references to last night. He relaxed slightly. “Go on.”

  “To make a short story even shorter, I went into the storage room expecting to find Gordon testing out a new espresso machine. But he was testing out his counter assistant, instead. The two of them were going at it on top of a pile of sacks full of Gordon Brooke’s Special Espresso Roast Costa Rican Blend.”

  “I can understand how an encounter like that would have left an indelible impression.”

  “Enough to put one off espresso for life,” Molly assured him.

  “And the hissing sound?”

  Molly grimaced. “That was Gordon. He sounded just like one of his machines.”

  “You didn’t, uh, recognize the noise?” Harry asked carefully. “Our relationship had, thankfully, not progressed to that stage.”

  “You weren’t sleeping with him?”

  “No.” Molly smiled wryly. “Now, are you satisfied?”

  “Almost,” Harry said.

  Molly glowered. “You’re impossible. Do you have to pursue every little detail?”

  “I like to collect odd scraps of information.”

  “This isn’t exactly an interesting footnote in the history of science. Why do you want so much information on Gordon?”

  “I figure it’s to my benefit to learn as much as I can about him.”

  She regarded him with deep suspicion. “Why?”

  Harry watched a dozen gulls dive toward the same french fry. The bird that got to it first seized the morsel and climbed swiftly skyward to escape the competition. “I like to plan ahead. When did you and Gordon first start dating?”

  Molly was silent for a moment. Harry sensed that she was choosing her words with great care. He wondered why the subject of Gordon Brooke required such extreme caution.

  “We met about two years ago. I told you, we started going out together about eighteen months ago,” Molly said finally.

  “That would have been about six months after your father died?”

  “Yes.”

  “About the time you took the first legal steps to establish the Abberwick Foundation?”

  “Uh-huh.” Molly studiously spooned up more chowder.

  Harry whistled softly. “So it took Brooke that long to figure out that you were in control of a five-hundred-thousand-dollar-a-year foundation? He must be a little slow. No wonder he’s on the verge of bankruptcy.”

  “That’s it.” Molly’s slammed her spoon down onto the table. “I knew you’d say something like that. I just knew it.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Don’t you dare try that innocent expression with me, Dr. Trevelyan. You know perfectly well that you just implied that Gordon tried to use me eighteen months ago.”

  “Now, Molly—”

  “You virtually accused him of having his eye on the Abberwick Foundation assets, not me. The implication is that I was too naive and too gullible to realize it until I saw him going at it with his assistant.”

  “I’m sorry,” Harry said.

  “Hah. I don’t believe that for one single minute. You think I’m soft in the head when it comes to financial matters, don’t you?”

  “Not in the least,” Harry said, surprised by her conclusion.

  “Yes, you do. You no doubt gained that unfortunate impression because I seem too eager to make grants to the various inventors who have applied for them.”

  “I think you’ve got a soft spot for inventors, yes. But that’s another issue.”

  “You bet it is.” Molly aimed her spoon at him as though it were a ray gun. “Bear in mind, Dr. Trevelyan, that I did not make Abberwick Tea & Spice a successful business enterprise by being stupid about money.”

  “True,” he conceded.

  “Nor am I naive and gullible when it comes to investments. The fact that I got my father’s foundation up and running is proof of that.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So maybe I am a little softhearted when it comes to inventors. What of it? It’s a family trait. Abberwicks have spent generations looking for funding for their inventions. It’s only natural that I would feel for others who are in the same position my father and uncle were in for most of their lives.”

  “I understand. I apologize.”

  Molly abruptly collapsed against the back of her chair with a disgruntled expression. “Why should you be sorry? It’s the truth. Gordon did try to use me to get money for his damned espresso bars. I hoped you wouldn’t find out. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I doubt if it was any more embarrassing than discovering that my ex-fiancée was in love with my cousin,” Harry said.

  Molly looked briefly nonplussed. Then her mouth kicked up at one corner. “You’ve got a point. I’ll bet that was a little rough, wasn’t it?”

  “It didn’t do a lot for my ego, but I survived.”

  Molly’s hair bounced in the wind as she leaned forward and folded her arms on the table. “Maybe you and I have more in common than we first thought.”

  Harry gazed into her shatteringly clear eyes and felt the desperate hunger rise within him. He fought savagely to squelch it. He could not take any more risks. He had gotten lucky last night because Molly had believed him to be ill. He must not lose his control again. At least not until he was absolutely, positively certain that she would not fear the strangeness in him.

  “Maybe we do,” Harry agreed.

  “Eighteen months ago Gordon wanted cash to expand,” Molly said quietly. “When he didn’t get it from me, he talked a bank into making him a loan. He opened five new locations within three months. He moved too quickly. Now things have started to implode. He needs more money to stay afloat, and the bank won’t give him another dime.”

  “So he’s come to you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But this time,” Harry said carefully, “you know what he’s after.”

  “Yes.”

  Harry looked out across Elliott Bay. “Ever wish things had worked out differently between you and Brooke?”

  “I think I can state with great certainty that Gordon and I would not have lasted very long as a couple.”

  Harry glanced at her and saw the fresh mischief in her eyes. “Why not?”

  “I hate to sound picky, but going to bed with a man who makes noises like an espresso machine during intimate moments is out of the question. I have my standards.”

  Relief poured through Harry. “I’ll try not to hiss at the wrong time.”

  Harry studied the drawings attached to the grant proposal that was spread out on his desk. The sketch was for a device that would supposedly collect energy from the sun and use it to power an automobile. Harry had nixed the grant on the grounds that the inventor’s theories and technological ability were both equ
ally mundane. The proposal embodied no original thinking. Nor did it exhibit the level of mechanical engineering expertise required to carry it out.

  But whoever had set up the fake gun and the hobgoblin was not a truly original thinker, Harry reminded himself. Clever but not original. There was a vast difference.

  The disgruntled inventor had used ordinary ideas and well-worn technology to create his malicious devices. Technically speaking, whoever had submitted the solar-powered automobile proposal could have been the creator of the pranks. But there was something that did not quite fit. Something did not feel right.

  Harry set the proposal aside and turned to the next one on the pile. He had worked his way through nearly half of the hundred documents stacked on his desk. He intended to keep going until he found the one he was searching for. It was here, somewhere. He was convinced of it.

  Molly, seated at the glass table next to the aquarium, looked up from her small computer. “Any luck?”

  “No.” Harry scanned the cover page of the next proposal. “But I’ll find it. I’m a patient man.”

  Molly made a face. “I do not want to hear that patience is a virtue.”

  “I’ll skip the lectures tonight. I’ve got better things to do.”

  “Thanks.” Her expression sobered. She regarded him with a shadowed look. “This is really going above and beyond the call of duty, Harry. No one’s paying you to find this guy.”

  “Forget it,” Harry said. “That bastard is here somewhere, and I’m going to dig him out.” He turned the page of the proposal and concentrated on the drawing of a wind-driven generator.

  Molly returned to her computer.

  A companionable silence settled on the study. Harry realized absently that he was starting to take such silences for granted. He no longer worried about offending Molly when he sank into his thoughts. She always seemed to have plenty to do herself. She did not have to be entertained. Nor did she pester him with questions about his moods.

  The buzz of the lobby intercom jarred Harry out of his concentration a few minutes later. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten o’clock.