Eye of the Beholder (31 page)

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.”

* * *

“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?”

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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?”

“I've been swamped.” He made a face. “Four more hours including the Gallery Walk to go and then the worst will be over. We can all head for
Dimensions to take in the Psychic Fair and see the fireworks.”

Kerry laughed. “Next week you and Alexa will both be whining about the slowdown in business.”

Alexa looked up from arranging gargoyles. “We're small-business people, Kerry. Whining is what we do. Don't forget my tea.”

“I won't.” Kerry disappeared in the direction of Café Solstice.

“I'd better get back to Spheres.” Dylan started to turn away. “See you up at the Institute tonight?”

Alexa kept her bright smile pasted firmly on her face, but her palms went cold. “Wouldn't miss Dimensions Night. But it'll be tough to find anyone in that crowd. Everyone's saying that the festival has drawn more people this year than any year in its history. Tonight the Institute is the center of attention because of the fair and the fireworks. It will be thronged.”

“We could drive up there together in my car.”

Alexa concentrated on positioning gargoyles. “Thanks, but I've already made arrangements.”

Dylan paused. “Going with Trask?”

“Yes.”

“I was afraid of that.” His face clouded with concern. “I guess there's nothing I can say.”

“No,” Alexa said gently. “There isn't.”

He smiled ruefully. “None of my business, anyway. All the same, take care, okay?”

“Don't worry, Dylan. I know what I'm doing.”
Sort of
, she added silently.

“Don't mind me,” Dylan advised gently. “I've been feeling kind of down all day, in spite of the sales volume.”

“Because of the news about Joanna?”

He nodded. “I can't stop thinking about it.”

“I know what you mean.”

“We're her friends,
Alexa. We should have realized how close to the edge she was.”

“We're not exactly mental health experts,” Alexa reminded him.

“Still…”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, we're all feeling a little guilty today.”

“It's easy to look back and see the signs that we missed at the time,” Dylan said. “She'd been getting more and more anxious and upset during the past few weeks. And she has a history of depression. There was that time right after Harry Trask died…”

“The important thing is that she's going to be okay.”

“Thanks to you. What made you go to her house yesterday anyway?”

“It was just an impulse.”

Dylan looked wise. “I think it was more than an impulse. When are you going to admit that there's something to Webster Bell's theories about psychic energy waves and positive vortices?”

“I'll buy into that theory the same day I start seeing aliens and Abominable Snowmen.”

Dylan's eyes widened. “Don't tell me you missed them. They arrived on a tour bus from Tucson this morning. Checked in at the Avalon Resort.”

“Go back to work, Dylan. You're missing customers.”

“True. See you later.” Dylan backed out of the
doorway and sauntered off down the shaded path that led to Spheres.

Alexa put the last gargoyle in place, straightened it, and picked up the box.

Her palms were still cold. Her anxiety level was climbing by the minute. At this rate, she would find herself sharing a room with Joanna at the no-doubt very expensive, very private, sanitarium Webster Bell had selected.

She had spent most of the day worrying about Trask and his plans to break into the Institute's files tonight. On those rare occasions when she had not been fretting about him, she worried about Liz and Joanna.

It was all too easy to succumb to Trask's dark conspiracy theories.

The doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of a customer. Alexa was relieved. Selling gargoyles and fake swords took her mind off what lay ahead that evening.

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