Eye of the Beholder

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Don’t worry, the gas is shut off and the house has been aired out. Alexa and I will lock up before we leave.”

  “Uh, well, thanks.”

  Trask replaced the phone. Alexa did not look up from the magazine in her hand. She stared at the cover with an expression of fixed intensity.

  “Radstone is driving Bell to the hospital,” Trask said. “I told him we’d lock up the house.”

  Alexa finally raised her eyes from the magazine. There was an odd expression on her face. As if she’d just seen a ghost, Trask thought.

  “How did Bell react?” she asked quietly.

  Trask shrugged. “Like you’d expect any brother to react to the news that his sister may have tried to take her own life.”

  “She was hallucinating,” Alexa said slowly.

  “I heard. Sounded like she was really out of it.”

  Alexa looked down at the cover of the magazine. “She kept talking about monsters. But once or twice she seemed to recognize me. She tried to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “I didn’t understand. When I tried to find out why, she went back to raving about some monsters that were trying to kill her. She was terrified.”

  Trask thought about the anxiety he had seen in Joanna’s face the day she had met with him at the hotel. “She warned me to let the past stay buried.”

  “I think Guthrie’s death really unnerved her.”

  “Maybe it’s more than that,” Trask said bluntly. “Maybe she knows something about what’s going on. Or maybe she only has some suspicions. Either way, I doubt if she’ll talk to us because of her brother.”

  “Her first loyalty is to Webster,” Alexa agreed. “If she thinks he’s involved in something wrong she would be torn about what to do.”

  “That might explain the stress that led to the overdose of tranquilizers.”

  “It might also explain this.” She held up the magazine in her hand.

  Trask studied the glossy cover. It featured a photo of a bronze nude. “What’s that?”

  “TCA,” she whispered.

  Trask frowned. “What?”

  “Twentieth-Century Artifact. A year-old edition. This is the issue that printed the first rumors of the McClelland Gallery forgeries. It was the article in this magazine that linked my name to the scandal.”

  The implications hit him. He crossed the room, took the magazine out of her hands, and read the lead beneath the picture of the bronze. Fakes and Frauds at McClelland?

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Trust me, I will never forget that cover as long as I live. I see it in my dreams.” Alexa took back the magazine and flipped it open to a page that had been turned down at the corner. “Joanna is not into twentieth-century art. And this magazine is more than twelve months out of date. I can think of only one reason why she might have it here in her living room.”

  Trask read the title centered above the article. Rumors of Fraud Strike McClelland. Assistant Implicated. He met Alexa’s eyes. “You said Joanna tried to apologize for something?”

  “Yes. Do you think it’s possible that she was the one who made those late-night calls?”

  “Sort of looks that way, doesn’t it? But why?”

  “She must have realized that she couldn’t stop you from digging into whatever she thinks is buried here in Avalon,” Alexa said. “So she tried to frighten me into staying away from you. I think she wanted to protect me.”

  27

  Trask leaned back in the lounger and looked up at the stars that gleamed above Alexa’s patio. “What with all the excitement today, I haven’t had a chance to tell you a couple of things. The first stories on the resort appeared in the Tucson and Phoenix papers.”

  Alexa stretched out in the adjacent lounger. “Good press, I hope?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did they call your hotel a fantasy come true?”

  “What else?” He paused deliberately. “The articles mention the art collection.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Not excited?”

  “I’m not going to get excited until TCA does a story that calls the collection the finest display of Deco outside of New York.”

  “I was afraid of that.” He paused. “You don’t think you’re expecting a little too much under the circumstances?”

  “No. The Avalon collection is the best outside of New York. One of the best in the country. When TCA acknowledges that, I can go public and take the credit.”

  Trask contemplated the stars while he considered various strategies for bringing leverage to bear on the publishers of Twentieth-Century Artifact. He did not know many people in the world of magazine publishing, but he knew people who had contacts in that world.

  “Don’t even think about it, Trask.”

  He assumed his most innocent expression. “About what?”

  “About trying to intimidate TCA into printing a rave review of the hotel’s collection.”

  “You never let me have any fun.”

  “It’s a sweet thought,” she assured him. “But I doubt if it will work, and it could easily backfire. I don’t need any more nasty press, thank you very much.”

  “You underestimate me, my dear. I know how to apply pressure in very subtle ways.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.” She smiled. “Forget TCA. We’ve got bigger problems on our hands at the moment. What’s your other news?”

  “Radstone’s a professional con man.”

  She sniffed. “He always speaks highly of you.”

  “I’m serious, Alexa. The guy used to go by the name of Fletcher Richards. Ripped off a bunch of seniors with some scam he ran as a so-called financial planner.”

  Her head came around swiftly. She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t believe it. He’s Webster’s righthand man.” She waved a hand. “I dated the guy.”

  “Until I saved you from his clutches by keeping you too busy with my art collection,” he said. “Makes you wonder if there might be something to this metaphysical stuff after all, doesn’t it?”

  She looked at him askance. “I beg your pardon?”

  He moved one hand in a broad arc. “You know, it’s as if there was some mysterious force at work all along.”

  “Mysterious force?”

  “Trying to bring us together,” he explained.

  “I suppose that is a point of view.”

  “Right. It’s my point of view and I’m sticking with it.” Satisfied, he decided to move on. “Tell me again why you drove all the way out to Joanna’s house in the middle of the afternoon?”

  “Like I said, I was worried about her. She didn’t open her shop this morning. Stewart said she wasn’t feeling well. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer the phone.”

  “So you just hopped into your car and drove out to see her? I don’t suppose it crossed your mind to let me know what you were up to? We’re supposed to be working on this project together, if you will recall.”

  “That reminds me, how did you find out where I was?” she asked.

  “Sure. Change the subject. Just when I’m really getting into my lecture.” He eyed her. “I called your shop. Talked to your assistant, Kerry.”

  “Oh.”

  “About this partnership of ours—” He broke off at the sound of a car in the drive. “I think you’ve got company.”

  Alexa tilted her head, listening. “I wonder who would come by at this hour of the night?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Trask got to his feet and started around the side of the house. Alexa swung her legs off the lounger and hurried after him.

  A gleaming Range Rover was parked in the drive. The driver cut the lights and the engine just as Trask rounded the corner of the house.

  Two of the vehicle’s doors opened. Foster Radstone got out from behind the wheel. Trask watched him flash his cap-toothed smile at Alexa. It hit him that no price would have been too h
igh for his new Deco collection as long as working on it had kept Alexa from getting seriously involved with Radstone.

  Webster Bell climbed from the passenger seat. The porch lights gleamed on the silver in his necklace and belt. His looked ten years older than he had the night of the hotel reception.

  Alexa stepped around Trask. “Is Joanna okay?”

  “She’ll be all right.” Webster gave her a weary smile. “Thanks to you. I stopped by to say thanks. You probably saved her life today.”

  “We hadn’t realized that she was so deep into a state of clinical depression,” Foster said gravely. “She obviously needs intensive psychiatric care. Webster is going to make arrangements for her to go directly from the hospital into a private facility for a while.”

  “Are you sure she tried to commit suicide?” Alexa gazed thoughtfully at Webster. “Maybe she just took too many tranquilizers by mistake.”

  “I’d like to think that’s the case,” Webster said quietly. “But I’m afraid she’s very ill. She’s still hallucinating.”

  “The doctor allowed Webster to see her for a few minutes,” Foster said. “She wasn’t very coherent. Apparently she’s anxious about her journal. We went to her house to get it for her, but we couldn’t find it. You didn’t happen to notice it when you were there earlier today, did you?”

  “Are you talking about her Dimensions personal journal?” Alexa asked slowly.

  “Yes,” Webster said. “Did you see it, by any chance?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Alexa said. “I didn’t notice it.”

  “We weren’t in the house very long,” Trask added. “Things were hectic. After the medics left with Joanna, I called you, and then we locked the doors and left.”

  Webster ran a hand across his face as though trying to erase the weariness etched there. “She wouldn’t talk to me very much, but she seems to want the journal very badly.”

  “I’m sure it’s a source of comfort to her,” Foster said. “Webster and I hoped we could find it.”

  “Maybe it’s at her shop,” Alexa volunteered helpfully.

  Trask barely managed to subdue a strong impulse to plant his heel on her toes.

  “No, it’s not there, either,” Webster said. “We checked the shop after we couldn’t find it in her house.” He gave a dispirited shrug. “I guess that’s all we can do for now. Maybe when her mind clears she’ll remember where she left it.”

  “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,” Alexa said. “Joanna is a friend. I want to help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you.” Webster smiled gently as he slid back into the front seat of the Range Rover. “Think positive thoughts.”

  “I will,” Alexa promised.

  Foster raised a hand in farewell. “Peace and serenity.”

  The heavy vehicle’s engine roared to life. Trask took Alexa’s arm and turned her away from the blinding headlights. He guided her back to the patio.

  He was furious with himself.

  “Damn it to hell, after what happened at Liz’s house, we should have thought to look for a journal at Joanna’s place,” he said.

  “Hey, we aren’t exactly trained detectives.” Alexa gave him a wry smile. “Besides, as I recall, we were busy making another brilliant deduction at the time. Those late-night phone calls, remember?”

  “I wonder what the hell she knows about all this.”

  “From the sound of things, we won’t be able to get close enough to her to ask any questions for a while. You heard what Foster said. Bell is making arrangements for her to go into a sanitarium.”

  “Whether she needs one or not,” Trask said dryly.

  “I know you’ve concluded that Webster is behind all this, but I’ll tell you one thing,” Alexa said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I got a good look at his face tonight. Whatever is going on, I can almost guarantee you that he never intended to put his sister at risk.”

  * * *

  The monsters surrounded her. Some hung by serpentine tails from the ceiling and leered. Others stood three deep, slathering jaws agape. Perched atop the backs of their scaled companions, a few glared down at her with menacing eyes.

  None of them moved. It was as if they were all frozen…

  “Alexa, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  “Go away.” Annoyed by the interruption, sensing she had to get back to the dream before it evaporated, she turned her back to Trask and snuggled into the bedding.

  Trask shook her gently. “It’s okay, it’s just a dream.”

  “I know that,” she grumbled into the pillow. “Important. Leave me alone.”

  “I guess that tells me where I rank in the general scheme of things around here.” Trask sounded only slightly amused.

  Alexa opened one eye. There was no recapturing the dream now, anyway, she decided. She turned back to face Trask.

  He was propped on his elbow, looking down at her. The sheet had fallen to his waist. His bare shoulders blotted out a very wide swath of moonlight.

  “I changed my mind.” Alexa drew a finger slowly down his biceps. “You’re more interesting than the dream.”

  “I can’t tell you what that does for my ego.”

  She blinked and yawned. “How come you’re awake, anyway?”

  “I’ve been doing some thinking. When you reached out to grab me I got distracted. I assumed that you were feeling in the mood.”

  “Umm.” She frowned, trying to call back the images of her dream.

  “Someone interesting?” Trask asked in a suspiciously polite tone.

  “Something interesting. Monsters, I think.”

  “I can guess where the inspiration for that came from.”

  Alexa thought about Joanna lying on the deck floor clutching at her and begging her to keep the monsters away. She winced. “Yes. Poor Joanna. I hope she’s resting comfortably tonight. What kept you awake?”

  He shoved his pillow up against the headboard and sprawled back against it. “The Dimensions Institute.”

  “What about it?”

  “I want to get inside.”

  Alexa yawned again. “Take a guided meditation class. Or a tour of the grounds.”

  “I mean inside the offices. Specifically, Bell’s and Radstone’s offices.”

  Alexa stilled. “Trask, that sounds like a very risky, possibly even stupid, idea.”

  “Stupid, huh? Lucky for me I’m man enough to be able to rise above that kind of remark.”

  “What do you expect to find in Webster’s and Foster’s offices?”

  “Answers. Okuda says that his computer people have gone as deep as they can. They haven’t turned up much that’s useful. I have a hunch that’s because Bell and Radstone are too smart to store the incriminating stuff on a computer, at least, not one that’s on-line.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “You still think this is all about money, don’t you?”

  “The Institute is all about money. And thus far everyone who has died has been standing in the way of the Institute’s cash flow.”

  “We’re talking about two people who have died.” Alexa realized she was once again trying to be the voice of reason. “Your father and Dean Guthrie. The authorities have said that both were killed in accidents. Furthermore, twelve years separated the deaths. No one is going to buy your conspiracy theory involving Dimensions. We simply haven’t got any solid evidence to show to the cops.”

  “Hell, don’t you think I know that? It’s the reason I want to take a look around inside Bell’s and Radstone’s offices.”

  “I don’t like it,” she said.

  “Neither do I.” He looked at her. “But I can’t think of anything else, and something tells me we may not have a lot of time.”

  Her hands went cold. “Liz Guthrie?”

  “Yeah. Liz Guthrie. I have a hunch that the clock has already started ticking for her. And maybe for some other people, as well.”

  She sat up. “Lord, you can’t mean Joanna
?”

  “I don’t want to scare you, but personally I find her collapse and impending incarceration in a sanitarium a little too convenient. If you hadn’t gone out to her house today, she’d be dead by now. What do you want to bet that, either way, dead or committed to a psychiatric hospital, Bell takes control of her finances?”

  Alexa flopped back onto the pillows. “What a mess.”

  “That’s why I have to get inside those offices at the Institute.”

  She watched the shadows on the ceiling for a while.

  “I’m probably going to hate myself in the morning for saying this, but…”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The Institute grounds will be very crowded tomorrow night because of the festival activities. There’s a psychic fair, a public talk by Bell, and fireworks. I have a good idea of the schedule because I’ve been working with Foster on one of the coordinating committees.”

  Trask said nothing.

  “I know my way around the Institute and the seminar building, which is where the offices are, because of that meditation class I took.”

  Trask shifted onto his side. “You can draw me a map.”

  She turned her head on the pillow. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll go with you.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Wanna bet, partner?”

  28

  Dylan Fenn stuck his head into the door of Elegant Relic shortly after three o’clock the following afternoon. He grinned when he saw Alexa emerging from the back room with a box full of small gargoyles in her arms.

  “Good day?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding? This is the third time I’ve restocked these little critters since this morning.” She looked at Kerry. “I thought you were going to take a quick break. Better grab it while you can. This quiet spell won’t last more than a few minutes.”

  “I’m on my way out the door even as we speak, boss.” Kerry came around the corner of the counter. “Want me to bring back some tea for you?”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that. Make it iced.”

  “You got it. Hey, Dylan.” Kerry smiled at him as she went through the doorway. “How’s it going?”