Summer in Eclipse Bay (21 page)

“That's how it looks to me.”

“You sure she hasn't managed to piss off someone here in town? Maybe refused to market some artist who's decided to get even?”

“I don't think so.” Nick shot him a searching glance. “I'm starting to wonder if this could be coming out of the past.”

“Claudia Banner.”

“Yes.”

“But the only folks who got hurt when Claudia pulled off her scam all those years ago were Mitch and me. And we're both a little too old for revenge, even if we had a notion to go after it.”

“I doubt if anyone gets too old for revenge if the motivation is strong enough, but I agree that you and Mitch are not the ones behind this. What I want to know is, do you think there's anyone else in Eclipse Bay who might harbor a grudge against Claudia Banner that would be big enough to make him go after Octavia?”

Sullivan contemplated that in silence for a while.

“If there's one thing I've learned about business in the past sixty years,” he said finally, “it's that it's always personal. And when the deal involves as much cash as Claudia's scam did, there's usually a fair amount of collateral damage.”

“Meaning maybe someone besides you and Mitchell Madison got hurt?”

“Could be. It's possible. I can't give you any names but I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go over this with Mitch. You know, he and I never really talked about the details of what happened when Claudia put us into bankruptcy. We were too busy blaming each other and firing up the feud. But maybe we can discuss it calmly now. Put our heads together and reconstruct events, so to speak.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you come up with anyone who might still be so pissed off at Claudia Banner that he would go after her niece.”

“All right. It's a long shot, though. You do realize that?”

“Sure. But that's all I've got at the moment. Long shots.”

“I can see that.” Sullivan came to a halt and stabbed the cane into the sand a few times. He gave Nick a beatific smile. “Now that that's settled, how about I do you a favor and give you some time to yourself?”

“You offering to babysit?”

“Figured I'd take Carson back to Portland with me for a few days. Lillian and I can look after him while Gabe and Hamilton argue about the details of the merger. You'll have time to work on finding that missing painting.”

“Sure. If he wants to go, you're welcome to take him with you, but don't pretend that you're trying to do me any favors. You just want another opportunity to mold him in your image. You think you can turn him into the next major empire builder in the family.”

“You've got to admit, the boy's got a flair for business.” Sullivan chuckled. “Remember how much money he made off that lemonade stand he set up in front of the house a few months ago when you brought him down to Phoenix? Talk about a natural aptitude.”

Nick regarded his son playing with Winston and felt a rush of pride. “We'll see.”

“We will, indeed. By the way, don't tell me that I'm not doing you any favors by removing young Carson from the vicinity for a while. I'd think you'd appreciate me giving you a little space in which to do your courting.”

“
Courting.
” Nick stumbled over a rocky outcropping. He caught his balance and glowered at Sullivan. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I figure I owe you that much,” Sullivan continued smoothly, “after the way I tried to coerce you into taking over Harte Investments. And I've got to say, I think you've made a fine choice. I'm rather fond of Octavia.”

“Damn it, who said anything about me courting Octavia Brightwell?”

“Gives me a good feeling to be helping you out like this. I do believe I'm getting downright sentimental in the twilight of my life.”

“Twilight, my ass. You're not getting sentimental, you're still trying to run things, the way you always have.”

“What can I say? It's in the blood.”

They set out for Portland two hours later. Sullivan waited until they passed the
You Are Now Leaving Eclipse Bay
sign before he picked up the cell phone and punched out Mitchell's number.

“Well?” Mitchell demanded. “Did you get Nick straightened out?”

Sullivan glanced at Carson seated beside him. The boy was immersed in a book about dogs. “There's no need to worry about my grandson's, uh, association with Miss Brightwell.”

Mitchell snorted loudly on the other end. “So you say.”

“You'll have to take my word on that subject, Mitch. Meanwhile, something has come up in regard to that missing painting. Nick's got a hunch that there's a personal angle here. He thinks the thief might be someone who is still holding a grudge because of what happened when Claudia took Harte-Madison apart.”

“But you and I were the ones who went bankrupt all those years ago. As far as I know we were the only people who got ripped off. Why the hell would anyone else still hold a grudge?”

“I don't know. I suggest we start with a list of everyone we knew at the time who might have had anything to do with Claudia and Harte-Madison.”

“That's gonna take some thinking.”

“I know. Tell you what. You put your list together and I'll make up mine. Then we can talk and compare notes. Maybe something will hit us.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Mitch paused. “You're sure Nick is gonna get his act together with Octavia?”

“Count on it.”

Sullivan ended the call and looked at Carson. “Picked out the kind of dog you want?”

“I want one just like Winston.”

“Can't go wrong with another Winston.” Sullivan ruffled the boy's hair, then reached into his briefcase. “That reminds me, I brought a printout of your investment portfolio with me. Want to see how those lemonade profits are doing?”

Carson slammed the dog book closed. “How much money did I make?” he asked excitedly.

“You did very well with those ten shares in Fast Toy, Inc.”

“I told you they made good toys.”

“So you did.” Sullivan put the brokerage statement on the seat between them. “Take a look at that bottom line. You made three hundred dollars.”

“Oh, wow.” Carson snatched up the statement and immediately started asking questions about the various entries.

Sullivan settled back against the seat and prepared to indulge himself in one of his favorite hobbies: teaching his eager great-grandson the finer points of investment strategies.

Life was good, he thought. He had Carson, and two hours ago Hannah had informed him that he was soon to become a great-grandfather for the second time. Judging by the intimacy and the joy he witnessed when he was with Gabe and Lillian, he was almost certain there would be more good news coming from that quarter one of these days.

All he had to do was get Nick and Octavia on the right track and life would be damn near perfect.

An eerie green light emanated from Arizona's War Room. Octavia studied the glow seeping around the edge of the heavy steel door with great interest.

“Think maybe she's thawing some of those frozen space aliens she claimed the institute was trying to hide a few months ago?” she asked.

“When it comes to A.Z. and her conspiracy theories, nothing would surprise me.” Nick pushed open the door and stood back to allow Octavia to enter the room.

In any normal house, the space would probably have been described by the architect as a study. But Arizona didn't live in a normal house. Her cabin was fortified with locking metal shutters on all the windows. The doors had been reinforced with steel bolts. Rumor had it that Arizona had six months' worth of supplies and food stored on the premises.

Octavia had lived in Eclipse Bay long enough to know that the reason no one in town got nervous about Arizona was because it was a fact that she had no interest in weapons of any kind. In her bizarre fantasy world, her mission was to collect and analyze intelligence data on the various conspiracies she was certain lay just below the surface at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. The fact that the institute dismissed her as a quaint, local eccentric suited Arizona just fine. As she had explained to Octavia on one occasion, the disdain from the institute staff only made her job of spying on them simpler.

Octavia stepped into the War Room and saw that the mysterious green light radiated from a computer screen. Three people garbed in flowing robes and wearing a lot of the vaguely Egyptian-style jewelry favored by the Heralds sat hunched over the table. Two of them were going through heavy, leather-bound log books. The third was pounding away on the keyboard. They barely glanced up when Octavia and Nick entered.

There was a spartan, military-spare look to the furnishings. A large topographical map of Eclipse Bay was laminated to the surface of a massive desk. Rows of log books were arranged on the metal shelving that lined one wall.

Arizona, dressed in her customary camouflage-patterned fatigues, occupied the aging wooden chair behind the desk. A chubby, unlit cigar stuck out of the corner of her mouth. The narrow beam from the desk lamp was aimed low to illuminate the topo map. Most of Arizona's face was in shadow.

“About time you two got here.” Arizona motioned toward the chairs that sat opposite her on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat. Coffee?”

Octavia glanced toward the machine in the corner. She could detect the unmistakable odor of burned coffee from where she stood. The glass pot had been sitting on the hot plate for a long, long time.

“No, thanks,” she said politely. She took one of the chairs. “I've had enough today.”

“I'll pass, too.” Nick dropped into the chair beside her. He angled his chin toward the three Heralds. “How's Project Log Book going?”

“Right on schedule, and I intend to keep it that way.” Arizona permitted herself a small moment of intense satisfaction. “Those bastards up at the institute aren't going to stop us. But we've got a problem.”

“What's up?” Nick asked easily.

“The institute crowd has started a rumor. Heard it at Fulton's this morning,” Arizona stated, clearly agitated.

Octavia sighed. “That would be the rumor that I'm the one who stole the painting and faked a break-in at my gallery to cover my tracks?”

“Bingo.” Arizona snorted. “So, you've heard it, too, eh?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “Seemed to be coming from Eugene and Dwayne. I took steps to keep them quiet, but I had a hunch that they weren't the original source.”

“I reckon that the institute tried to use them to spread it for obvious reasons,” Arizona said. “Not like those two blockheads would question the source of a story. They'd just happily blab to anyone who would listen. Whoever used them knew that was their nature.”

Nick thought for a minute. “You said you heard the rumor at Fulton's?”

“Checkout counter,” Arizona said. “Overheard Betty Stiles talking about it to Marjorie Dunne.”

An unpleasant whisper of unease went through Octavia. Marjorie Dunne was the mother of little Katy Dunne, one of the children who had entered a picture in the Children's Art Show. Gordon Dunne served on the town council and had made it clear that he intended to run for mayor in the next election cycle. The family took its role as pillars of the community seriously.

“Betty and Marjorie, huh?” Nick leaned back in his chair and thrust his legs out toward the desk. He steepled his fingers. “What we need to do is trace this rumor back to the source.”

“We know where it got started,” Arizona snapped. “That crowd up at the institute concocted it. I'll bet they've got that painting stashed somewhere up there, too. Now, I've come up with a plan—”

“No.” Nick unsteepled his fingers and held up one hand, palm out, to silence her. “Don't even think about it. You are not going to send Octavia and me into the institute to search for that painting.”

“Got to go in,” Arizona declared. “Don't see any other way to find the picture.”

“Give me a few more days,” Nick said. “I'm working on some angles.”

Arizona looked skeptical. “What angles?”

“It's a little complicated and I'm not ready to talk about it yet. Let's just say that I think this thing has roots in the past. I've asked my grandfather to help. He and Mitch Madison are doing some deep background research. When I get the results I'll contact you.”

“Deep background, huh?” Arizona chewed on her cigar while she pondered that. “When do you expect a report from 'em?”

“Soon,” Nick promised. He got to his feet. “Any day now. Hold off on your plans to go into the institute until I get back to you, okay? If you move now, you may alert the folks who are behind this and they'll probably move that painting. Maybe ship it to California. We'll never find it if they take it out of town.”

Arizona munched on her cigar a couple of times and then nodded decisively. “All right. I'll give you a few days to finish your deep background. But if you don't get anything useful out of Sullivan and Mitch, we're gonna have to go in. It's our only option.”

“Right. I'll be in touch.” Nick took Octavia's arm and hauled her up out of the chair. “Come on, we've got work to do, honey.”

The
honey
bemused her a little. She got the feeling that he wasn't even conscious of having used the endearment. She thought about that while she allowed herself to be dragged from the War Room.

Outside, a light summer rain was falling. The woods surrounding the fortified cabin were cloaked in a gray mist. Nick hustled her into his car, and then went around the front and got in beside her.

She looked at him as he quickly reversed and drove back along the thin, rutted path that served as Arizona's driveway.

“Deep background?” she said dryly.

“I thought it sounded good. Had a nice military ring.”

“It did seem to impress Arizona, but you only bought us a little time. What do you expect to accomplish?”

“Beats me. But I didn't have much choice. I had to come up with something fast. I definitely do not want to get tangled up in one of Arizona's little clandestine recon projects at the institute.”

“From what Mitch told me, it's sort of a family tradition. Hannah and Rafe carried out a mission for Arizona and so did Lillian and Gabe.”

“And it was just damn good luck that none of them got picked up for illegal trespass.” Nick turned the wheel and drove out onto the main road. “I've got no intention of following in their illustrious and heroic footsteps, thank you very much. Especially when there's no reason in hell to think that the painting has been hidden up there at the institute.”

Her small flash of amusement faded. “But you do believe that it's still somewhere in town, don't you?”

“Yes.” He did not take his attention off the road. “I think whoever took it did it for personal reasons, not for profit. That means it's probably still somewhere in town. We need to find the source of those rumors.”

A few minutes later Nick drove into town, turned onto Bay Street, and parked in the lot at the end of the row of shops. He got out and walked with Octavia to the door of the gallery.

The flicker of unease she had experienced a short time ago when Arizona had recounted the scene at Fulton's returned. Inside the gallery, Gail stood at the counter. She was engaged in an intense conversation with Marjorie Dunne.

“That's a ridiculous rumor, Mrs. Dunne,” Gail said forcefully. “I can't imagine who started it, but it has absolutely no basis in fact.”

Marjorie was clearly not about to be reassured or placated. Clad in tailored slacks and a fashionable cream silk blouse and wearing a lot of gold jewelry, she was, as usual, overdressed for Eclipse Bay. Her blond hair was cut in a short, sophisticated bob that Octavia was pretty sure had not come from Carla's Custom Cut & Curl. The local beauty shop specialized in two distinctive looks: Very Big Hair and the Senior Citizen Helmet.

“I'm sorry,” Marjorie said, not looking particularly remorseful, just very determined, “but regardless of whether or not the rumors are true, I must insist that you give me my daughter's picture. I can't allow Katy to participate in the art show so long as there's a cloud hanging over Octavia Brightwell and this gallery. I have to think of my husband's position in the community.”

Octavia felt Nick go very still beside her. Alarmed by the anger she sensed humming through him, she stepped forward quickly to defuse the situation.

“I assume this is about the gossip that is going around concerning me,” she said calmly.

Gail and Marjorie both turned quickly. Gail's expression was every bit as resolute as Marjorie's.

Marjorie looked momentarily taken aback at the sight of Nick standing next to Octavia. She started to speak to him, but Gail overrode her.

“Katy will be crushed if her picture isn't in the show,” Gail said to Octavia. She gave Marjorie a brief, pointed look. “I'm sure Mrs. Dunne wouldn't want her daughter to feel left out because of some stupid gossip. You know how sensitive children are.”

Marjorie flushed a dull red, but she was resolved. “I'm sorry about this, Octavia. Katy may not understand why I'm doing this, but it's for her own good. I'm sure you can see my position here. Dunnes have been respected members of this community for three generations.”

“You must do what you feel is best for your daughter,” Octavia agreed. “It's unfortunate that you believe the rumor that I stole the Upsall, but that is your choice. I'll get the picture for you.”

Marjorie's mouth tightened. “I didn't say I believed the gossip. I'm sure there's nothing to it. But it just wouldn't look good for Katy's picture to be in the show.”

“That's ridiculous,” Gail fumed. “The best way to help us squelch that gossip is to allow your daughter's picture to be exhibited with the others. If you pull it, you'll just add fuel to the fire and you know it.”

Octavia was touched, but she was not about to let Gail fight this battle for her. “It's all right, I'll get the picture.”

She circled the counter, opened the door of the back room, and went inside.

“I'm sorry about this,” Marjorie said coldly, “but it really is not my problem, is it?”

“Depends how you look at it, Marjorie,” Nick said.

In the back room, Octavia winced. Nick was in a dangerous mood.

Marjorie, however, apparently did not recognize the razor-sharp edge of the blade buried in the too-soft words.

“Nick.” She was suddenly overflowing with warmth and cordiality. “I heard you were in town for the summer. Nice to have you back in Eclipse Bay for a while.”

“Thanks,” Nick said.

“I saw your latest book on the rack at Fulton's,” Marjorie said. “A very intriguing cover.”

“Think so?”

“Yes, indeed. I have an excellent sense of color and design, you know. I'm sure the story is very good, too. I understand you've become quite popular. Unfortunately I don't have much time to read these days.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Nick murmured.

Octavia stifled a groan and hurriedly went to work sorting through the framed paintings to find Katy's picture. If she didn't get out there fast, there would be blood on the floor of the gallery.

“Gordon is getting ready to run for mayor, you know,” Marjorie continued in a blithe, chatty fashion, evidently unaware of the ledge she was walking. “And what with all the campaign work and Katy's summer activities schedule, I haven't had a chance to read anything other than a newspaper for months.”

“I know what you mean,” Nick said. “I've been a little busy myself lately. I'm working on finding out who started those rumors that are circulating about Octavia.”

“Oh, yes.” Marjorie sounded nonplussed, as if she hadn't intended the conversation to go in this direction. “Yes, I did hear that you were asking around about the painting. Uh, any luck yet?”