She was sitting at the counter, blithely unaware of his precarious mood. She pushed a thick curve of witchy black hair back behind one ear and her jeweled eyes gleamed with excitement. “I suppose the cops were right,” she allowed. “The guy broke into the building and started going through the upstairs offices first. When he didn't find anything valuable, he went back downstairs and discovered Alex's computer equipment.” Jessie drummed her fingers on the countertop. “But I don't like it.”
“Nobody liked it, Jessie.”
“I mean, something doesn't feel right about it. I think I'll go visit Mrs. Valentine today and see what she thinks. She might have some insights into this thing.”
“Jessie,” Hatch said wearily, “you're not going to try to tie this break-in to your DEL case, or something equally stupid, are you?”
“Why not? I don't care what the cops said. The whole thing is very suspicious. The guy did go through the offices of Valentine Consultations first.”
“The cops also said guys like that tend to go through a place in a methodical fashion. Makes sense to start upstairs and work down. Use some logic here, instead of drama, Jessie. What could he have been searching for in Valentine Consultations? You haven't discovered anything incriminating about DEL yet, and you're not likely to do so. The DEL crowd probably knows that better than anybody.”
“Maybe.”
He considered the stubborn, mutinous set of her mouth out of the corner of his eye as he poured milk over the cereal. “You're trying to overdramatize your Big Case, Jessie. Forget it. Waste of time.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes.” He sat down across from her and reached for the coffeepot. “Eat your breakfast like a good girl and then you can send me off to the office with a wifely little kiss.”
Jessie scowled ferociously. “Don't get any ideas just because I let you spend the night on my couch.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” Hatch dug into his cereal. He was actually getting a lot of ideas, but he figured he could wait to tell her about them.
Negotiating with Jessie was a tricky business, and he had no intention of giving away too much information in advance. He waited for her to lecture him further, but when she spoke again, she surprised him with her question.
“What did you do to that jerk in Alex's office, Hatch?”
“Took out my frustrations on him.”
“I mean, seriously, what did you use on him? Karate or something?”
“Nothing that fancy. Just some old-fashioned alley-fighting techniques.”
“Where did you learn them?”
“In an old-fashioned alley. Look, could we change the subject? I had what is frequently referred to as a misspent youth. I'd prefer to forget it.”
“Whatever you say. Still, I'm glad it was you who went into that office instead of me.”
“Which brings up an interesting point,” Hatch said, deciding to seize the opportunity. “The only reason you didn't go charging into that office first was that you conveniently happened to stumble over Alex. I warned you not to rush blindly into that place.”
“We all know I don't take orders well, Hatch. Want some more coffee?”
“Quit trying to change the subject. You're walking on thin ice, lady. I am not in a good mood this morning.”
“Oh, my. Are you going to yell at me?” She fixed him with an expression of great interest, as if waiting for a show to begin.
“I've resisted this long, I think I can manage to hold back what would seem to be a very natural urge under the circumstances. But I wouldn't advise you to push me.”
“Veiled threats. How exciting. I've never seen you quite like this, Hatch. It's a whole new you. I'll bet you're only holding back because you don't want to lose any of the territory you think you gained last night by conveniently falling asleep on my couch.”
“Is that right?”
“I know exactly how your mind works, Hatch. You've weighed the pros and cons of losing your temper with me and decided that it's in your own best interests not to yell at this rather delicate stage of the game.”
“You think you know me very well, don't you?”
“Well enough to know how you think.” She took a swallow of coffee and wrinkled her nose. “But I'll admit I didn't realize you'd make coffee like this. It tastes like pure, refried, undiluted grounds.” She tried another tentative sip. “With perhaps just a hint of old tires thrown in for body.”
“I grew up on a cattle ranch. Nobody drinks weak coffee on a ranch.”
A wary spark of interest lit her eyes. “You grew up on a ranch? Where was it?”
“Oregon.”
“Do your folks still live there?”
“No.” He wished he had kept his mouth shut, but one look at her expression told him it was too late to close the subject. She was curious. A curious Jessie Benedict was a dangerous Jessie Benedict.
On the other hand, it was gratifying to have her exhibit some real interest in him.
“Where are your parents living now?”
Hatch sighed. “When I was five my mother decided she couldn't take ranch life any longer. Or maybe it was my old man she couldn't take. Whatever, she filed for divorce and left. Went back East and married some guy who worked for an insurance firm.”
Jessie's brows came together in a swift frown. “What about you?”
Hatch shrugged. “I stayed on the ranch with Dad until I was sixteen and then I left.”
“You went off to college early?”
“No. I just left home early. Dad and I were not what you'd call a real father-and-son team. We didn't get along.” Hatch shoved aside the memories of the weak, whining, bitterly angry man who had raised him. “Not that I was a model son, you understand. I was in trouble from the time I was nine years old. At any rate, when I left home, I lied about my age and found work on a ranch in California. Dad died in a car accident two years later.”
“Then what happened?” She was riveted now.
“I went back to Oregon, sold the ranch, and used the money to pay off the bank. The place was buried in debt. My father was not much of a businessman. Hell, he wasn't much of anything. After he died I told myself I was going to prove him wrong.”
“About what?”
Hatch studied his thick, dark coffee. “He had a habit of telling me I was never going to amount to anything.”
“Well, he was certainly wrong about that, wasn't he?” Jessie's eyes flickered briefly to the gold-and-steel watch on his left wrist.
Hatch smiled grimly. “I guess you could say that everything I am today I owe to my old man.”
“What about your mother? Is she still alive?
“Yes.”
Jessie chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Ever see her?”
“Not much.” Hatch swallowed another bite of cereal. “I call her every Christmas.”
“That's not very often, Hatch.”
Her reproachful eyes refueled his irritation. “For God's sake, Jessie, let the subject drop, will you? It's none of your business, but the fact is, she's no more interested in hearing from me than I am in hearing from her. She built a whole new life for herself back East. She's got two more sons, both lawyers, and a man who makes her a lot happier than Dad ever did.”
“But what about you?”
“I haven't been real fond of her since she walked out and left me alone with that sonofabitch she married the first time around.” Hatch shrugged.
“She should have taken you with her.”
“Yeah, well, she didn't. I probably reminded her too much of my old man. Jessie, I do not want to discuss this any further. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
Hatch took a deep breath and made another grab for his self-control. His past was not one of his favorite topics. He glanced at his watch. “I'd better get moving. Got an early-morning meeting with the site manager on the Portland project.” He stood up, automatically checking his pockets for keys and wallet. “See you this evening. I'll p
robably be home around seven-thirty or eight.”
“Home? Are you talking about here?”
“Right.”
“Now, wait just a minute, Hatch. I've got plans for today. Maybe for tonight too. You can't just move in on me.”
“Sorry, Jessie. I'm in a rush. Haven't got time to argue.” He took one stride that brought him around the end of the counter, kissed her lightly on the forehead before she could protest, and then headed for the door.
“Dammit, Hatch. Just because you spent last night here does not mean you're going to make a habit of it. Do you hear me?” She was on her feet, coming after him.
“We'll talk about it later, Jessie.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I've got news for you. I don't serve dinner after eight o'clock at night. If you come here that late, don't expect to get fed.”
“I'll bear that in mind.” He gently closed the door behind him, cutting her off in mid-tirade.
He paused a moment, smiling a little as he heard her slam the dead bolt home. Then he went down the stairs feeling reasonably satisfied. Small battles won here and there led to major victories.
At least he was now fairly certain he finally had her full attention.
Jessie might not want to admit it, but the fact that he had spent the night on her couch was a turning point in their relationship. It added a whole new layer of intimacy to things. The very fact that she had not awakened him and kicked him out last night said a lot. Probably a lot more than she wanted to acknowledge.
Sharing the adventure of the break-in at three o'clock this morning was another binding clause, however unplanned, in the contract he was forging.
All in all, Hatch decided as he walked outside and got into the Mercedes, the business of courting Jessie Benedict was finally starting to come on-line. He sensed success in the offing.
This was one merger he was definitely looking forward to consummating.
Jessie studied the notes she had made on the pad in front of her as she listened over the phone to David rattling off the information he had managed to dig up at Butterfield College.
“Good luck with that name I gave you. It's not much, but it's all I think I'll find,” he said. “Frankly, most of the students here on campus weren't particularly interested in dedicating themselves to the cause of the DEL Foundation. The DEL people were basically viewed as loonies.”
“Hardly surprising. Anything on Dr. Edwin Bright himself?”
“Just that the ‘doctor’ in front of his name is a little suspect. Probably one of those mail-order degrees. No one seemed to know what field it was in.”
“Hah. Definitely a con man. Thanks a million for the help, David.” As she hung up the phone, Jessie stared at the name she'd written on the pad: Nadine Willard. She actually had a place to start. A clue. She was beginning to feel like a real live investigator.
Nadine Willard worked at an espresso café across the street from the front entrance of Butterfield College. She proved to be a thin, rather washed-out-looking young woman with pale, wary eyes, pale, lanky hair, and bad skin. But she was willing to talk if Jessie would wait until she took her break.
Jessie killed the time by ordering a cup of dark-roasted coffee and after the first sip, immediately wished she'd abstained. Her nerves promptly went into overdrive. One cup of Hatch's brew was apparently enough to last a person all day. No wonder the man was able to work fourteen-hour days.
Jessie sat fiddling with the unfinished coffee and idly studied the mix of campus types seated around her while she contemplated Mrs. Valentine's reaction to the news of the break-in. It had been, to be perfectly truthful, rather disappointing.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. V had said, looking alarmed. “I do hope that nice Alex Robin was not badly hurt.”
“He's fine, Mrs. V. Back at work already,” Jessie had assured her. She had realized then that Mrs. Valentine had had no enlightening psychic revelations regarding the incident and decided not to mention the remote possibility that it could have been related to the DEL case. No point upsetting the woman. A good assistant shielded one's boss from the petty little day-to-day annoyances of the job.
Jessie was getting bored enough to risk another sip of the dark-roasted coffee when she saw Nadine Willard finally coming toward her.
“Okay, I guess I can talk to you now.” Nadine sat down across from Jessie. “You wanted to know about Susan Attwood?”
“That's right. Her mother is very concerned about her going off to join DEL. Did you know Susan well?”
“No, not really. I don't think anyone did. Susan was not what you'd call real friendly. One of those computer nerds, you know? Kept to herself. She and I had a class together during the winter quarter. When DEL first showed up on campus, I went to one of the evening lectures and Susan was there. We talked a little about the whole thing afterward.”
“Were you interested in joining DEL?”
Nadine shook her head. “Nah. Just curious for a while. You know. I mean, everyone knows the environment's in trouble and all, but what can you do? Susan was fascinated right from the start, though. She tried to talk me into going with her when she accepted the invitation.”
“What invitation? To join the group?”
“No. It was like a tour of the DEL facilities, you know. She went out to the island and was so impressed she decided to stay and go to work for the foundation.”
“Island? What island?” Jessie was getting excited now. She told herself to calm down. She had to take things step by step and make notes. Investigators always took notes. Hastily she whipped out her pad of paper and a pen.
“The DEL Foundation owns an island in the San Juans.”
“A whole island?”
“Sure. It's not that big a deal, you know. There are other privately owned islands out there, I guess. At any rate, you have to have a special invitation to go ashore and see the facilities.”
“Where does one get an invitation to take the tour?” Jessie asked, tapping the pen restlessly against the table.
“At a DEL lecture, I guess. But there hasn't been one around this campus for weeks now. Maybe they've been recruiting on one of the other campuses in the area.” Nadine shrugged her thin, wiry shoulders.
“Damn. I don't suppose you have any brochures or handouts left over from the lecture you attended, do you? Something with a phone number or an address on it?”
“I doubt it. I wasn't interested, so I didn't keep most of it.”
“Damn,” Jessie said again. “Sorry.”
Nadine paused. “You can have my invitation if you want it. I'll never use it.”
“What?” Jessie dropped her pen in astonishment. “You got one?”
“Sure. We all did. I kept it because Susan suggested I hang on to it, just in case I changed my mind, you know.”
“Is the invitation transferable? Can anyone use it?” Jessie was having a hard time containing herself now.
Nadine frowned. “I don't see why not. There's nothing on it that identifies me. I think it just says something about the bearer and a friend being welcome to tour the facilities. There's charge, though. A stiff one. Two hundred dollars apiece. You can write it off as a donation to the foundation, I think.”
“Two hundred dollars? Apiece?” Jessie was shocked. “That's a lot of money for a tour.”
“Yeah. It's one of the reasons I didn't go. Susan said they stipulate a high donation in order to discourage curiosity seekers.”
Jessie made her decision. “Nadine, I will gladly pay you for the invitation.” She reached for her purse and yanked it open. “How much do you want for it?”
Nadine thought about it. “I dunno. Maybe twenty bucks?”
“I'll give you fifty,” Jessie said, feeling extremely magnanimous. She would put it on the expense account, she told herself. She was not so sure that account would run to the two hundred she would need to take the DEL tour. She would have to approve it with the client. But she was almost certain Mrs. Attwood would want her to go to the
island.
* * *
The invitation, which was inscribed “Admit bearer and one friend,” was safely tucked into Jessie's purse an hour later when she returned to the office. She was feeling inordinately pleased with herself until she saw Constance Benedict, Elizabeth's mother, waiting for her just inside the hall.
One glance at Connie's face was enough to tell Jessie that this was no casual visit.
“Hello, Connie. What on earth are you doing here?”
“I'm working on a downtown condo residence. Thought I'd stop by and see you for a few minutes before I went back over to the Eastside.”
“Something wrong?” Jessie's stomach clenched suddenly. “Elizabeth's okay?”
“Yes. But I want to talk to you about her.” Connie sounded grim as she followed Jessie up the stairs and into the office.
“Have a seat.” Jessie motioned her to the sofa.
Constance was a few years younger than Jessie's mother. She had not had Elizabeth until she was thirty-five, nine months to the day after marrying Vincent.
After the divorce Constance had admitted she had known Vincent was probably not going to make an ideal spouse, but she had been panicked by a ticking biological clock. She had apparently regretted the marriage within a few short months.
She had stuck it out, however, until Elizabeth was nearly two. By then she had become close friends with Lilian Benedict, the only other woman in the world who really understood what it was like to be the wife of the head of Benedict Fasteners.
Constance was a strikingly handsome woman. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, she had an instinct for making the most of her dramatic coloring, just as Jessie's mother did. She favored strong colors and vivid makeup. She had a lush, full figure that somehow always looked chic and sensual rather than dowdy. Today she was tightly sheathed in a short-skirted turquoise suit.
“All right, what's the problem, Connie?” Jessie sprawled in the swivel chair behind the rolltop desk and waited. She knew she would not have to sit in suspense for very long. Connie was very much like Lilian in that they both had a habit of coming straight to the point.
“Vincent called this afternoon. He left a message for me at the office.”
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