Flash

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Can you think of anyone else besides you and Nina who could possibly have known about the affair at the time it occurred?”

  Olivia looked at him. “There was one other person, of course. But he’s dead.”

  Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “Your uncle?”

  “As I said, Uncle Rollie was the one who told me about it.”

  Jasper glanced around the echoing exhibition hall. He took Olivia’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He couldn’t think of a great place to talk about dead men and blackmail so he took her to the closest place, instead. Myrtle Edwards Park on the waterfront. He chose the path labeled “heels.” The one that ran parallel to it was labeled “wheels.”

  He studied the small, choppy waves of Elliott Bay and put his questions into an orderly pattern. “How do you think your uncle found out about Logan and Nina?”

  “In a lot of ways, Uncle Rollie was an old-fashioned patriarch.”

  Jasper was briefly amused. “Patriarch is an odd word to use to describe a man who was happily gay.”

  “I know.” Olivia carefully unsealed the triple-shot latte she had purchased from a sidewalk espresso stand. “But it was the truth. He was the oldest of his generation and the first really successful member of the Chantry clan. He had a very strong sense of family responsibility. He provided jobs for relatives who needed them and summer employment for their kids. He helped finance first homes and first cars. Established college funds. Never forgot birthdays. Etc., etc.”

  “I get the picture.”

  “He always seemed to know what was going on in everyone’s life. He kept track of things. He was obsessive about his files.” She took a quick sip of her latte. “Both verbally and in his will, he gave explicit instructions to me to destroy all of his personal records after his death.”

  Jasper glanced at her. “Did you carry out those instructions?”

  “Didn’t have to.” She took another sip. “There was a fire in Uncle Rollie’s study the day after we got word of his death. It took care of everything.”

  He came to an abrupt halt. “Arson?”

  Olivia nodded. “The police said there had been a rash of trash bin fires in the neighborhood where Uncle Rollie lived. They think the arsonist got especially bold that night and tried to burn down a whole house. He probably chose my uncle’s because it was vacant.”

  “I see.” Jasper resumed walking. “Back to my question. How did Rollie learn about the affair?”

  Olivia made a face. “If you want to know the truth, I suspect he hired a private investigator. Pretty tacky, huh?”

  That brought Jasper to another halt in the middle of the path. “Why in hell would he do that?”

  She sighed. “Uncle Rollie never approved of my marrying Logan. He told me that Logan was using me right from the start. He had the decency to shut up about it after the wedding, but I know that he was still worried.”

  “So he kept tabs on Dane?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Olivia said. “All I know for sure is that one day Uncle Rollie took me to lunch and asked if I knew that Logan was having an affair with Nina. He was furious, not only on my behalf, but on Nina’s. She was young, inexperienced, and out of her league. Logan took advantage of her naïveté and innocence.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I admitted I’d had some suspicions and that I was already considering a divorce. I never asked Uncle Rollie outright how he had learned about the affair, however.”

  “You just assumed he’d used an investigator?”

  “It was a logical assumption. I knew that he hired a firm from time to time to, uh, check out stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff did good old Uncle Rollie check out?”

  She looked at him over the rim of her latte cup. “Potential business partners, for example.”

  “Me, for instance?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Jasper whistled softly. “Makes sense. I had Rollie’s background investigated before I signed the contract to finance Glow’s expansion.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. Lord save me from obsessive-compulsive information types.”

  Jasper ignored that. “The bottom line here is that Rollie and at least one other person besides yourself knew about the affair.”

  Olivia looked briefly baffled. Then she nodded. “Oh, sure. Of course. The private investigator—” She broke off. “Hey, do you suppose the investigator is using the information in his files to blackmail people connected to some of his former clients?”

  “Unlikely. Too obvious. And too easy to check out. Besides, I’m sure your uncle used a first-class firm.” Jasper considered the possibilities. “There’s another interesting question here, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Any chance that Rollie knew about Zara’s former career in X-rated films?”

  Olivia mulled that over briefly. “Sure. In fact, I’d bet he did know about it although he never mentioned it, of course. Like I said, Uncle Rollie knew just about everything about everyone in the family. Why?”

  “It gives us a link. Don’t you see? Whoever is blackmailing you and Zara knows information that only Rollie Chantry knew, right?”

  “As far as I’m aware, yes.”

  Jasper paused to connect a few more facts. “You said there was a fire in Rollie’s house that destroyed his personal files.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did his bank register and credit card statements survive, by any chance?”

  She gave him a curious glance. “Where are you going with this?”

  “If we assume that the private investigator-turned-blackmailer theory is unlikely, that leaves two other possibilities we need to check.”

  “And they are?”

  “Either someone got into Rollie’s personal files before the fire and removed some of them—”

  “Oh, my God. I never thought of that.” Olivia stared at him. “What if the fire wasn’t random vandalism? What if the blackmailer broke in, stole some files, and then set the fire to cover up the theft?”

  “Possible, but I think there’s another possibility. What if the blackmailer broke in looking for information and found the location of it, instead? He might have still gone ahead and set the fire to cover his tracks.”

  “What do you mean?” Olivia demanded.

  “One of the reasons your uncle and I did business together was because we understood each other. We had a lot in common.”

  She raised her brows. “Not everything, fortunately.”

  He smiled fleetingly. “You’re right. Not everything. I’m not gay.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “But we did have the same approach to information,” Jasper continued. “And the same degree of respect for it.”

  “So?”

  “So I think I can almost guarantee that if Rollie possessed information that he knew was potentially damaging to members of his family, he probably stored it somewhere safer than his study.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “What in the world made you think of that possibility?”

  Jasper thought of the heavy, locked cabinets in his basement. “It’s what I’d do.”

  “I see.” Olivia’s voice was very dry.

  “Did you check the basement of his house?”

  “There was only a partial basement. Nothing in it. I looked when I cleaned out the place.”

  “Nothing in his study survived?”

  “Nope. He didn’t use fire-proof filing cabinets.”

  Yet Chantry had apparently treated information with the same kind of respect that he, himself, did, Jasper thought. Which meant that Rollie would have taken pains to protect the most vital and the most potentially dangerous records.

  “Safe deposit box?”

  “I cleaned it out, too. I was his executor, so I got stuck cleaning out everything. There was nothing unusual in the box.”

  Jasper went down a mental list of options. “What about a s
torage locker in a commercial self-storage facility?”

  “Uncle Rollie never mentioned one.”

  “If he had a locker,” Jasper said slowly, “there would be a record of it somewhere.”

  “Probably in his study. Burnt to a crisp.”

  “To paraphrase an old expression, there ain’t no such thing as free storage. Not in this day and age. If Rollie had a locker, he was paying for it. And if someone got into it after his death, there will be a record of that, too.”

  “Hmm.” Olivia pursed her lips. “I’ve arranged to have his mail forwarded to me so that I can be sure to pay any outstanding bills or credit card statements. I haven’t received an invoice from a storage facility of any kind.”

  “If he had an off-site locker, he probably paid the rent annually or semiannually. You might not see a bill for months.”

  “In which case, the charge would probably be on one of his credit card statements or buried in his check register.”

  “Damn.” Jasper thought quickly. “We’ll have to request copies of the statements and canceled checks from the credit card company and the bank. That’s going to take a few days.”

  “No,” Olivia murmured, “it won’t.”

  He glanced sharply at her. “What do you mean? Weren’t they destroyed in the fire?”

  “Yes, but after the funeral I ordered copies of Uncle Rollie’s bank and credit card statements. The lawyer and I needed them to settle the estate.”

  Jasper allowed himself a cautious flash of optimism. “You’ve got them stored somewhere very convenient, I hope?”

  “In my basement storage locker.” She took another swallow of coffee. “I’ll dig them out this afternoon and take a look.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Right.” Clearly energized, Olivia polished off the latte and tossed the empty cup toward a nearby trash can with a flourish. “You really think we may be on to something here?”

  “Maybe.” The cup would never make it into the trash can, he thought. Olivia had made no allowance for the gently gusting wind. Both her aim and her timing were off.

  He watched the breeze catch the empty latte cup just before it reached the can. The paper vessel was whipped about by the light air currents. It sailed away onto the grass.

  “Darn. Hang on a second.” Olivia veered off the path to chase down the wind-tossed cup. She scooped it up, dropped it into the can, and trotted back to join Jasper.

  He refrained from pointing out that it would have been more efficient to have simply put the cup directly into the trash can in the first place. He had a feeling she would not appreciate the advice.

  18

  An hour later Jasper helped Olivia pry a large, heavy box out of the condo’s basement storage locker. They hauled it to the elevator and took it to her sunny eleventh-floor villa.

  Olivia saw the disapproval in his eyes when she lifted the lid off the box to reveal a loose array of documents, envelopes, and mail addressed to Roland Chantry.

  “Okay, so I don’t subscribe to the anal-retentive system of filing,” she said. “At least it’s all there.”

  “How can you be sure?” Jasper rummaged through the contents of the box. “We’ll be lucky to find all of the credit card statements, let alone every single check.”

  “Trust me.” She reached into the box for a handful of bills. “Everything is in here.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  It only took fifteen minutes to find the record of payment to the Pri-Con Self-Storage facility. Olivia spotted it first. A jolt of non-caffeine-related energy shot through her.

  “You were right. He paid a bill to a storage facility in south Seattle last January.”

  “Let’s see.” He reached for the credit card statement and contemplated the payment for a long moment. “It’s a place to start. But don’t get too excited. We don’t know what he kept there. When we open the locker we may find nothing but old fishing gear or his military service memorabilia.”

  “Let’s see if we can get into the locker this afternoon.” Olivia reached for the phone book and picked up the phone.

  Two minutes later she found herself listening to a recorded message.

  Thank you for calling Pri-Con Self-Storage. Pri-Con stands for private and confidential and we guarantee both. Our offices are open from eight to five weekdays and Saturday. On Sunday we close at two P.M….

  “Shoot.” Olivia glanced at the clock as she dropped the phone into the cradle. “We can’t get in today. The place closed half an hour ago. It doesn’t open until eight tomorrow morning.”

  Jasper’s mouth tightened. “I’ve got meetings with two critical path suppliers tomorrow starting at eight-fifteen. I probably won’t be finished until eleven at the earliest.”

  Olivia drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve got an appointment with Todd and Dixon Haggard in the morning. We’re going to review final plans for the Lancaster fund-raiser.”

  “Let’s shoot for noon. I usually leave my Jeep on Bainbridge, but I’ll drive it in to work tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at your office.”

  “All right.” She reached back into the file box to heft a small, zippered bag.

  “What’s in there?”

  She smiled, feeling a trifle smug. “All of Uncle Rollie’s keys. They survived the fire. With any luck, one of them will fit the lock on the storage locker.”

  Jasper shrugged. “If we don’t find the right key, we can cut off the lock. I’ll bring some tools.”

  Her small burst of euphoria collapsed. “This is an interesting development, but like you said, it might lead nowhere.”

  “It’s a place to start. And it feels right.”

  “What do you mean, right?”

  He hesitated. “I can’t explain. All I can tell you is that I think we’re on to something here. The fact that your uncle had a storage locker that you didn’t know about is very interesting. And if we discover that someone else has gotten into it and if we can figure out who that person was …”

  “Yes. I see what you mean.” She shuddered. “This is weird, Jasper.”

  “Blackmail is weird.”

  “True.” She eyed the box of papers, restless now that they had an objective. “We’re stuck. There’s nothing we can do until tomorrow.”

  Jasper’s smile was slow and intimate. “I wouldn’t say that. We can always work on our united front project.”

  A weightless sensation settled into Olivia’s stomach. “In the middle of the afternoon?”

  “Think it would be tacky?”

  “No. No, I don’t think it would be tacky at all. But, then, what do I know? I’m the one who brought you Foil Town.”

  “That’s true,” Jasper said. “But I sort of liked it.”

  “Remember that the next time you need an event producer.”

  “I need one right now.” He grinned and reached for her.

  She would try very hard not to giggle this time, she promised herself.

  Olivia got the call canceling her appointment with Todd and Dixon at twenty minutes after eight the next morning.

  “Mr. Haggard and Mr. Chantry need to reschedule for two this afternoon,” the secretary said on the other end of the line. “Would that be convenient?”

  Not hardly, Olivia thought. There was no way she could get to the Pri-Con Self-Storage facility, go through the contents of Rollie’s locker with Jasper, and get back to the office in time for a two o’clock meeting. “How about three?”

  “I’m afraid that doesn’t work for Mr. Haggard. He and Ms. Lancaster have a rally to attend in eastern Washington this evening. They’ll be flying to the Tri-Cities at four.”

  Damn, damn, damn. The fund-raiser was a very important contract with a wealth of future possibilities. She could not afford to annoy the client. Olivia glanced at her watch and stifled a groan. “Two o’clock will be fine, in that case.”

  She hung up the phone and gave the problem a moment’s consideration. So much for the noo
n trip to Pri-Con. On the other hand, she now had her morning free. There was no reason she could not go out to the self-storage facility alone and have a look around. If one of the keys in the zippered pouch fit, she would be able to get inside the locker. If not, she would have no choice but to reschedule with Jasper for later in the day.

  She picked up the phone again and dialed Jasper’s office number. Rose answered.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia, Mr. Sloan is out. May I take a message?”

  “Yes, please, Aunt Rose. Tell him that my schedule got changed. I’m no longer available for the one o’clock we had planned together. Tell him that I’m going to go out to the facility in south Seattle this morning, instead. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’ll tell him, Olivia. But I better warn you, Mr. Sloan is not in a good mood today.”

  Olivia frowned. “Things not going well with the supplier meetings?”

  “It’s not the suppliers. He was like this when he walked through the door.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sort of icy, if you know what I mean. Like he was getting ready to go into battle or something.” Rose’s voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “Quincy suggested that maybe you and Sloan quarreled about some of the changes going on around here.”

  “Nonsense,” Olivia said crisply. “Jasper and I are in, uh, perfect accord regarding the transition at Glow.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Just give him my message as soon as you can, Aunt Rose.”

  Olivia hung up the phone and sat quietly, thinking for a moment. Jasper had looked anything but icy when he left her condo shortly after eleven last night.

  She got to her feet and grabbed her purse and keys. She would worry about Jasper’s mood later.

  The Pri-Con Self-Storage company occupied an aging, four-story cinder-block building located on a neglected street in the south end of the city. A vacant warehouse stood adjacent to it. There was no sidewalk in front. Weeds had long since replaced whatever professional landscaping had once existed.

  It looked like the No-Tell Motel of storage facilities, Olivia thought, as she drove into the tiny, graveled parking lot. The sort of place where management probably did not ask too many questions so long as the rent got paid on time.