Poisoned by Gilt (2 page)

in a raspy voice, "yet we hardly ever see each other. And I

feel terrible about the circumstances."

"No kidding." There was an awkward pause, then

Sullivan said, "You got here pretty quick."

"I was just around the corner when we hung up, and I

found a space right away. Before I forget . . . did you get

my e-mail about my night class?"

"Tonight at CU, right? Okay if I drop in?"

"Absolutely. That's a great idea! It's in room one-ten of

the history building. We can go hit a pub afterwards . . .

grab a sandwich and a brewski."

"Sounds good."

Richard and Sullivan continued to make arrangements, but all I could think was: So much for our picking

up where we left off last night. How had the two men gone

from face-paling angst and accusations of betrayal to

chatting about night classes and beers?

Remembering belatedly that I was still in the room,

Steve clapped his mentor on the back and turned toward

me. "Richard Thayers, this is Erin Gilbert. Erin, Richard."

I rose for a moment, and we exchanged "Nice to meet

you's" and shook hands over my desk. I hoped that his

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pleasantry was less insincere than mine. I hadn't set the

bar especially high.

"Have a seat," Sullivan suggested, giving Richard a pat

on the back. The three of us moved from our desks to the

cozy nook near the window. We always allowed our visitors to sit first, and then, if it was available, Sullivan would

grab the leather smoking chair and I would grab the yellow slipper chair. Today I strode directly to Sullivan's

smoking chair and plopped myself down before our guest

could. I hated to act so petulant, but it was the best I

could do. At least I was keeping my mouth shut. Part of

me wanted to scream at Thayers: Do you realize you're

wrecking my love life?!

Sullivan took my usual seat. Once Richard had settled

into place on the sofa, I said, "Steve tells me that you're

stepping down as Earth Love's finalist judge."

He nodded grimly. "It's the responsible thing to do."

He sighed. "Too bad. I read the reports from the initialrounds' judges and saw the photographs. Burke Stratton's

interior was by far the best. Not surprisingly." He winked

at Sullivan.

"Thanks," Sullivan said. "Got to say that I agree with

you. Though I'm far from impartial. But I also have to admit, Darren Campesio's architectural design is interesting and really energy-efficient."

"That's the one that's partially built into the hillside,

right? So that the place is part cave? A la Batman?"

He was mocking the house, sight unseen. Annoyed, I

chimed in, "The design compensates for the windowless

portion fairly well. The space makes great use of skylights

and mirrors."

Richard looked at me with wide eyes, then blinked a

couple of times, as if puzzled. "Ah. Glad to hear it."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
9

"And the interior for the third finalist has a lot to be

said for it, too," I added.

"She means Margot Troy's place," Sullivan explained

unnecessarily--assuming Richard could subtract two

from three. "But Erin's biased. She designed Margot's

kitchen a couple years back."

"Did she?" Richard asked, again raising his bushy eyebrows. "Too bad you guys didn't just stick to working on

Margot's house." He shook his head. "When I agreed to

judge, I didn't know Burke Stratton was even in the competition, let alone a finalist."

Sullivan was nodding as though he was following

Richard's thread, but I remained on the outskirts. "And

you're biased against Burke, so you recused yourself?" I

prompted.

Richard nodded and, in a gesture eerily reminiscent of

Sullivan's, dragged a hand through his messy, patchy

hair. "The two of us have a problematic relationship. I

can't begin to be impartial toward that pompous peacock." Shifting his gaze to Sullivan, he said, "If I were

you, I'd disassociate with Stratton A.S.A.P."

"Because you think he cheated somehow?" I asked.

"Oh, he most definitely cheated," Richard said with a

snort. "There's no doubt about that."

"How so?"

"Evidence, my dear. Evidence." He chuckled. I battled the urge to fire off a sarcastic reply. Before I could

ask: What evidence? he continued, "Sorry to be so vague.

But when word of what Burke is really up to gets out, no

one will want to have their names associated with him or

his residence."

Sullivan and I exchanged glances. Why was Richard

paying us a personal visit if he wasn't going to pass along

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any helpful information? And why was Sullivan now giving me the evil eye if he'd just told me that I would have

to "grill Richard" myself? "I'm sorry, Richard," I said,

"but I'm confused. You didn't know till last night Burke

was in the contest. His house passed the inspections for

the previous rounds with flying colors. Yet this afternoon,

you've found such a major violation that you've suggested it may be a criminal matter. How did you get from

point A to point F so quickly?"

Richard stiffened and all but sneered at me. "As I believe I already told you, Miss Gilbert, I can't go into the

details. I'm sorry." He rose, faced Steve, and only then

forced a smile. "Well. I've wasted enough of your time."

Steve, too, got to his feet as Richard continued, "I just

wanted to apologize, face-to-face, for jumping down your

throat last night."

"Hey. That's all right."

"No, it isn't. I leapt to some ridiculous conclusions.

I'm not always rational when it comes to Burke Stratton.

The man is bad news. If you continue to work with him,

you'll regret it. But that's your decision. And this has been

a hell of a lousy way to resume our friendship, S.S."

"Yeah. Cruddy circumstances." The men shook

hands. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Technically, since I'm the finalist judge till they accept my resignation, I shouldn't have said a word about

this. But I felt you deserved the heads-up. It was the least

I could do, really." He gave me a thin smile. "Sorry that

I'm forced to be so cryptic, Miss Gilbert."

Not knowing what else to say, I muttered, "Thank you.

Drive carefully."

The moment the door closed behind Richard,

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
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Sullivan dropped into his desk chair, shot me a look of

disgust, and snapped, "That was awkward."

"Yes, it was. And I'm sorry, but truth be told, my questions seemed completely reasonable to me."

"He'd just gotten through telling us that he shouldn't

even have been talking to us in the first place! That he

wasn't at liberty to discuss any details!"

"No, he hadn't, Sullivan. He must have told you that

over the phone. All he said at first in my presence was that

he was sorry to be so vague."

"It's the same thing!"

"No, it isn't. Apologizing for being vague is not at all

the same as being ethically or perhaps legally under a gag

order."

He made no comment and returned to his work--

rifling through several pictures of formal dining room

sets in order to whittle down the selection process to the

best two or three for our client. His every motion was

made with extra zeal and noise. I reclaimed my seat at my

desk, which was at a right angle to his, and tried to get

back to work, too. I gave up within only a minute or two.

"Why are you angry at me, Sullivan? Could you please

explain to me what's going on here?"

"I don't know what Richard knows, Gilbert. But I do

know he always tells it like it is. Always. So we need to listen." He paused, still so edgy I didn't dare interrupt. "I

wanted you two to like each other. He's a great motivator . . .

has such great vision. He believed in me when no one else

did, including myself. There was a time when just having

him look over my shoulder at a project I was struggling with

would suddenly help me to find the answers. Somehow, it

feels like the exact opposite is happening. As though he's

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looking over my shoulder right now, and I'm suddenly seeing all our flaws."

My heart leapt to my throat. "Our flaws? You don't

mean in our relationship, do you?"

He ignored me. A silent yes!

I stared at him in profile. "Are you having second

thoughts about our decision not to see other people?"

He lifted his hands in exasperation. "Damn it, Gilbert!

I happily quit seeing other women because nobody measured up to you. But when I'm with you, I'm not measuring up to your standards, and--"

"That's not true," I cried, but he was talking over me.

"I'm always screwing up. It's always wrong! You were

right before. We shouldn't date."

His words seemed to hang in the air. I swiveled in my

chair to face my monitor and hide my expression from

him. "Oh. I see."

The phone rang.

"I didn't mean 'we shouldn't' as in 'we won't.' Just

that . . . you were right that it's not working."

"No, that's fine."

"The words just slipped out. I didn't mean to hurt your

feelings, Erin."

"I'll get over it." Just like I could dive face-first through

the window and probably survive. Two years of harboring

a crush on this one man had just crushed me. Despite my

overwhelming urge to cry, I picked up the phone.

Sullivan had risen and was now leaning on my desk.

He whispered, "But I didn't mean that the way it

sounded."

I was too upset to listen. I cleared my throat and said,

"Sullivan and Gilbert Designs" into the phone.

"I don't want to stop seeing you."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
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A woman was speaking. I asked her: "Can you please

hold?" and pressed the button without waiting for her response.

"Who is that?" Sullivan asked.

"I don't know. A soon-to-be-former client, most likely."

I sighed and looked up at him, suddenly feeling a horrid

pang that made it hurt to breathe. If only he weren't so

close to being everything I wanted, and yet never within

reach. "We can't do this now."

"I don't want to do this at all."

"Oh, Steve." I massaged my temples, willing myself

not to lose my composure. "I don't know if you mean 'do

this' as in breaking up or as in being together. But I just

meant that this isn't a good time for us to talk about it."

"No kidding. It's a train wreck. Look. Let me cover our

last two appointments this afternoon alone, while you see

if you can get us caught up here. Okay? Meet me tonight

at Richard's class. Please."

I nodded as I clicked back on the line and said, "This

is Erin Gilbert. I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Silence.

"Hello?" Nobody was there. Sullivan pushed out the

door.

"It is a train wreck," I muttered to myself.

The phone rang again, and I answered immediately.

"Erin, it's Burke," he said. His typically gentle voice

was tinged with desperation. "I need your help."

Had he already been told about the charges Thayers

had made against him? "Why? What's wrong?"

"Some idiot with an ax to grind has put me under investigation for false claims of rule violations. Turns out

the finalist judge is this guy named Richard Thayers, who

hates my guts. He did some work for me four years ago,

and it was all such garbage, I refused to pay. It had to be

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him who made these ridiculous charges. But I don't

know for sure. Nobody at Earth Love would tell me."

"Should I--"

"At any rate," he interrupted, his words gushing out in

a semitirade, "I'm telling you, Erin, promising you even,

that the claims are totally bogus. But my status as a finalist is now pending. Worst part is, there'll be some sort of

trial. It'll be covered in the Crestview Sentinel. My name

will be dragged through the mud."

"I'm so sorry, Burke. That's terrible."

"I need you and Steve to testify. I'll get Jeremy

Greene, my architect, to testify as well. Once I find out

what the charges are. Earth Love won't tell me that, yet,

either. They said I'll have to call back tomorrow morning,

after they've had a chance to read through the reports."

"I'll do what I can, Burke, but--" I stopped. This

wasn't the time to explain about Sullivan's possible conflict of interest. Burke was our client, and we'd been paid

to be on his side.

"But what?"

"Steve's not here, and we'll need to talk this over. All

three of us. Let's aim for sometime tomorrow, after you've

learned exactly what you're up against. Or Friday, if that

works better."

The other line was flashing with an incoming call. I

set a tentative time to meet at the office in the morning,

said a hasty good-bye to Burke, and answered the new

call. "Erin, this is Margot Troy," a woman's voice huffed.

"Did you realize you hung up on me?"

"Was that you on the phone just now?"

"A minute or two ago, yes. You tried to put me on

hold."