The Fatal Fortune Read online

  “What about Gage and Watson, Gwen? Want me to find someone to replace Sally Evenson?” Trina asked quietly. She was well aware that things were shaky.

  Guinevere thought for a moment. “No,” she said finally, “I think I’ll go over to Gage and Watson myself for a few days. Something is bothering Sally, and I want to check out the situation there. Can you find her another short-term assignment? She needs to work.”

  Trina nodded. “Gallinger Industries needs a typist for a few days.”

  “Put Sally on it.”

  “I don’t get it. You’re going to go into Gage and Watson yourself?”

  “That’s right. I’ll tell Gage and Watson that Sally is ill and that I’m her replacement.”

  “Well, all right, but I don’t understand why you want to take one of your own temporary assignments. What about running things here?”

  “For that I’ll rely on you, Trina.”

  ***

  Zac showed up in the doorway of Camelot Services at five minutes after five. It was obvious he had walked straight down the hill from his own small office in a Fourth Avenue high-rise. He had his conservatively tailored jacket hooked over one shoulder. His crisp, white shirt fit him well, emphasizing the solid, compact strength of his shoulders and the flat planes of his stomach.

  Zachariah Justis, president and sole employee of Free Enterprise Security, Inc., would never win any male beauty contests. The first time Guinevere met him, she had labeled him a frog. It wasn’t that he was as ugly as a frog, it was just that he had been surrounded at the time by a bar full of young, beautiful, upwardly mobile types, and in their midst he had stood out quite prominently. Add to that the fact that shortly after he’d introduced himself to Guinevere, he’d coerced her into helping him in an investigation, and one could understand why she had been less than enthusiastic about Zac Justis.

  Zac was just under six feet tall, a compactly built man with short, almost military-style night-dark hair and cool, ghost-gray eyes. He was thirty-six years old, but it had struck Guinevere on occasion that those years must have been years of hard-fought experience. Sometimes she wanted to ask him more about his past, but he usually showed no interest in discussing it, so she tended to back off the subject. Among the few facts she did know was that Zac had spent several years working for a large multinational security firm before starting his own small business in Seattle.

  She could guess at some aspects of his past, because she had witnessed some of his more unique skills. She had, for example, seen him make the transition from businessman to cold, lethal hunter on more than one occasion, and it gave her chills to think of the kind of life he must have led before settling down in Seattle. Guinevere still wasn’t certain why she had fallen in love with the man. She only knew that her life was never going to be the same now that Zachariah Justis was in it.

  They had begun their relationship as adversaries, but the tension between them had quickly exploded into passion. Passion had led to an affair and then to love. It was a very new, cautiously admitted love, something that they had both finally acknowledged only a couple months previously. They didn’t talk about it very much. There was still a sense of wonder and uncertainty about the relationship, as far as she was concerned. In true male fashion, however, Zac seemed to take everything for granted now. That was typical of Zac. He had a blunt, straightforward approach to most things—including, apparently, falling in love.

  Guinevere reminded herself on occasion that there was much she didn’t know about Zachariah Justis. The reverse was true, too, but Guinevere doubted that a complete résumé of her past would contain any earthshaking surprises for Zac. However, she wondered what she would learn if she were to see a detailed résumé of his past. She told herself philosophically that the early stages of love were a time of discovery. It was not a time to be rushed. She would continue feeling her way, learning what she could about Zachariah Justis.

  “The caterer said he’d see us at five thirty,” Zac announced as he came through the door. “Let’s get going.”

  “Relax, Zac. He’s only a couple of blocks away. We’ll get there in plenty of time.” Guinevere picked up her shoulder bag and glanced around the office. “Besides, I want to talk to you. I need some professional advice.”

  Zac waited impatiently by the door, his eyes turning suddenly suspicious. “Professional advice? What sort of advice? Gwen, I don’t want you getting mixed up in any more crazy investigations. I can find my own clients. I don’t need you to dig up more work for me.”

  She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “Calm down. I’m not asking you to take on any investigations. This one I’m going to handle on my own. I just want some advice from you, that’s all.” She playfully pushed him out into the hall and locked the office door.

  “Gwen, I mean it, I’ve got enough to do during the next couple of weeks without having to chase after you trying to keep you out of trouble. I’ve got this damn reception to plan, and the move to my new office to supervise. On top of everything else, I’m supposed to be interviewing for a secretary. That reminds me—why haven’t you sent anyone over for me to talk to?”

  “I’m still selecting the final candidates. A good secretary is hard to find, Zac. It takes time. Trust me.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you sure you’re not being a little too picky?” He took her arm and steered her forcefully down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.

  “Zac, I have to be picky. You’re not going to be the easiest man to work for, you know. You need someone calm and unflappable. Someone with a good personality, so that she can handle your important clients properly. You also need someone who can do your typing, handle your accounts, and present a good image.”

  “Damn it, Gwen, I just want a secretary, not a presidential aide.”

  “Don’t worry, Zac, I’ll send someone over soon. Now, about my little problem—”

  “Guinevere, I have learned through hard experience that your problems are rarely little.”

  “Don’t sound so abused. I’m not going to involve you in this. I’ve told you, I just want some advice. Now, here’s the situation: I think one of my employees has become the victim of a very subtle, very cruel protection racket.”

  Zac slid her a sidelong glance. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Listen to this and tell me what you think. I sent a young woman over to Gage and Watson a few weeks ago.”

  “The electronics firm?”

  Guinevere nodded. “Someone in her office turned her on to a psychic, a character who goes by the name of Madame Zoltana. Madame Zoltana agreed to see her initially for a small consulting fee, but after a couple of visits she revealed to poor little Sally that she knew Sally had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen.”

  “Oh, hell.” Zac sounded as if he knew what was coming.

  “Sally was flabbergasted. It seemed to prove that Madame Zoltana really knew her stuff. But it didn’t stop there. Zoltana also knew that Sally had given the baby up for adoption. You have to understand, Zac, that the experience nearly devastated Sally. She’s a fragile person in the first place. Finding herself pregnant and abandoned at seventeen nearly caused her to commit suicide. She was talked into having the baby by one of those antiabortion groups. They promised her that once she gave the baby away she would be free to rebuild her own life. Sally did exactly that. It’s been a long, slow process. Because of the baby, she was forced to drop out of school. She had to complete high school through a GED program. Her parents disowned her, and she was left destitute. It’s a sad story. Suffice it to say that she’s gradually pulled herself back together. A few months ago she came to work for me, and she’s shown remarkable improvement on the job. She’s starting to come into her own at last.”

  “Guinevere, the social worker,” Zac commented dryly.

  “I’m serious, Zac. That young woman really sta
rted to get her act together during the past few months. For the first time since she was seventeen, she’s beginning to see a future for herself. But she’s still very fragile, Zac. Now along comes this screwy Madame Zoltana and warns her that her whole world is about to fall apart again.”

  “How?”

  Guinevere drew a deep breath. “She told Sally that unless Sally kept coming to her on a regular basis, the baby she gave away when she was seventeen would someday learn who its natural mother is, come looking for her, and ruin Sally’s life. For the right price, Madame Zoltana says, she can prevent that from happening with her psychic powers. Poor little Sally is absolutely terrified.”

  Zac whistled softly. “I’ll be damned. That’s pretty grim, all right. What a racket.”

  “That’s exactly what it sounds like to me, a sleazy sort of protection racket. Madame Zoltana finds some useful secret in a person’s past and then offers ‘protection’—for a price.”

  “And the price is continued visits to Madame Zoltana at very high fees.”

  “Exactly.” Guinevere lifted her chin determinedly. “I can’t allow that sort of thing to happen to one of my employees on the job, Zac. I’m going to find out what’s going on and expose the whole sordid mess. That Madame Zoltana deserves to be hung.”

  Zac sighed. “Gwen, if people are stupid enough to believe in psychics and dumb enough to pay them, there’s just not much you can do about it. About all you can do is explain to Sally what’s going on, and hope she’ll be smart enough to believe you.”

  “Poor Sally is too distraught to know what to believe. I’ve got to prove Zoltana is a fraud.”

  “Be reasonable, Gwen. How are you going to do that?”

  “The way I figure it,” Guinevere said thoughtfully, “Zoltana must have some inside help at Gage and Watson. Sally’s not the only G and W employee who’s seeing her, and from what I can gather, a couple of the others have been getting the same treatment. Somehow, Zoltana spots the gullible ones and then finds out something she can use against them.”

  Zac lifted one eyebrow. “Inside help?”

  “Yeah. You know, someone who works at Gage and Watson, someone who potential victims might confide in. Whoever it is then passes the information along to Zoltana. From what Sally told me today, that would seem to be the way things work.”

  “Gwen, do you mind if I point out that you’ve got a company to run? You can’t make a career out of exposing fraudulent psychics, believe me. Houdini tried, and it didn’t do much good. There are always going to be some people who want to believe in charlatans like Zoltana. As long as there are believers, there will be frauds.”

  “All I want is a little advice from you, Zac. I thought you could give me some pointers on how to go about exposing a fraud.”

  “As usual,” Zac said with a long-suffering sigh, “my advice to you is to stay out of it. But, as usual, I suppose you won’t pay any attention.”

  Guinevere smiled contentedly. “I knew you’d help me.”

  “Wait a minute. I never said I’d help.”

  “Now, Zac, I’m approaching you in a professional capacity here.”

  “The hell you are. You’re just trying to get some free assistance,” he shot back.

  “Well, you owe me something for all the help I’m giving you planning your reception,” Guinevere informed him as they reached the entrance of a trendy delicatessen-restaurant on Western Avenue. “Here we are. We can discuss my case later. Now, remember what I told you about dealing with this caterer, Zac. I don’t want you making a fuss every time I mention French champagne or good pâté. If you’re going to have a proper reception for your clients, you have to do it right. You must go first class.”

  “Easy for you to say. It’s not your money.”

  “Quit complaining. This is going to be a wonderful party. Great PR for Free Enterprise Security.”

  “What if no one shows up?” he demanded, holding open the door for her.

  “Then you and I will have a lot of food and champagne to take care of. Might take us the rest of the year!”

  “Gwen!” Horrified, he hurried after her, catching up just as she hailed the young chef with whom they had an appointment.

  “Hello, Charles,” Guinevere said cordially. “I think we’re ready to make the final decisions. Zac has made it clear he wants everything to be just right, so please feel free to advise us.” She ignored Zac’s groan of despair and led the two men toward a vacant table.

  “I am sure you will be quite pleased, Mr. Justis,” Charles assured him, taking out a pen and a long pad of paper. “Shall we deal with the canapés and pâtés first? We have an excellent lobster pâté I would like to suggest. It’s a specialty of the restaurant, and we do it exceedingly well.”

  “Lobster?” Zac’s voice sounded strained. “Lobster?”

  “I think the lobster is a wonderful suggestion, Charles,” Guinevere offered swiftly. “I also think we should feature some salmon, don’t you?”

  “Salmon is always popular,” Charles agreed, scribbling rapidly. “And we do a truly superior salmon hors d’oeuvre, which features just a touch of dill and caper. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

  Zac knew there was no room in this conversation for him. He sat back in his chair, watching dolefully as Guinevere blithely ran up the tab for the reception he was planning. Hard to believe that initially it was just an off-the-cuff suggestion he’d made, when he’d decided to move the offices of Free Enterprise Security into a suite higher up in his office building. Business had been improving for his firm lately, and Zac was anxious to move up in the world. Time to get a real office, a view, and a secretary. One had to think of the image. And wouldn’t it be nice maybe to invite some of his clients to a little reception to celebrate?

  Guinevere had assured him it was a brilliant notion. The next thing Zac knew he was planning a no-expense-spared party. The formal announcements had gone out last week. Guinevere had sent a clerk over to help him address the envelopes. After that, he was committed. Panic had set in almost at once. Now he was beyond panic. He had placed himself in Guinevere’s hands, and Lord only knew what the result would be. One thing was certain: He was going to be a lot poorer when it was all over.

  But that was the thing about Guinevere Jones. Life hadn’t been the same for Zac since he had met her. And when all was said and done, he knew he wouldn’t ever want to go back to the way things had been before she had entered his world. Zac tended to take a realistic, pragmatic view of life and of himself. He knew himself well enough, for example, to know he’d do anything to keep Guinevere safe. It was a measure of the differences between them that she would undoubtedly be shocked if she knew that. As far as Zac was concerned, it was just a fact of life.

  Chapter Two

  The headquarters of Gage and Watson occupied two floors in a Second Avenue high-rise that was only three blocks from Guinevere’s own office. She checked in at Camelot Services to make certain Trina was on top of the early morning rush, and then she walked up the hill to Second Avenue.

  It had been a while since Guinevere had gone out on one of her company’s assignments. In the beginning she had done it frequently, rather than have to turn down a job from an important client. But Camelot Services was getting bigger, and her employees more diversified and efficient. It was rare these days that she found herself having to fill in on a moment’s notice.

  But this situation was different, Guinevere reminded herself as she walked through the revolving doors and into the two-story lobby of the building. This time she was undertaking her own investigation. This was her first, very own big case. She couldn’t wait until she could put the results in front of Zac. He was going to have to admit that she had definite talent in the investigative business. Besides, she thought, as she rode the elevators up to the nineteenth floor, where she was to report in for w
ork, this whole thing was going to be rather exciting. She would be on her own this time around. Damned if she would ask Zac Justis for any more advice. Zac could be a wet blanket at times—usually when she was really getting excited or involved in something of which he did not approve. Zac didn’t seem to realize just how many things there were in this world of which he didn’t approve.

  On the nineteenth floor, Guinevere stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of Gage and Watson. There was the usual confusion at the reception desk while the receptionist sorted out the situation. After three phone calls the woman looked up with a cheerfully relieved smile.

  “You’re to report in to Miss Malcolm at the end of the hall. She’s in charge of the typists and word processors.”

  “Thank you,” Guinevere said politely, and turned in the direction indicated. She ducked into a ladies’ room halfway down the hall and double-checked her appearance in the mirror. The royal blue blazer fit like a glove, nipping in slightly at her slender waist and causing her small bust to appear a bit fuller than nature had ordained. Guinevere had had her own blazer especially tailored and hadn’t regretted the expense. With the blazer, she wore a narrow tan skirt that fit smoothly over her hips. She considered this portion of her anatomy a bit too well-rounded, although Zac certainly didn’t seem to mind. Zac, however, tended toward an earthy view, and his taste couldn’t be relied on when it came to matters of fashion and style.

  Guinevere frowned slightly at her image, turning her head a little to make sure the neat coffee-brown hair was still firmly knotted at the nape of her neck. Smiling at the small Camelot Services crest on her pocket, she turned and walked out of the ladies’ room—and promptly collided with the man in the corridor outside. So much for professional decorum.

  “Excuse me,” Guinevere mumbled hastily, disengaging herself and stooping quickly to pick up the file folder she had just dropped. “Very clumsy of me. They ought to put mirrors up across the hall, so that when you open the door, you know what’s coming!”