Amaryllis (25 page)

When the two children had emerged, dripping cones in their hands, Linda had pointed to a striking woman who was getting out of an expensive car.

“Know who that is?” Linda gave Amaryllis a sly look. “That's your grandma.”

Amaryllis studied the elegant, dark-haired woman. “She's not my grandmother. My grandmother has blond hair and she's not as tall.”

“Everyone has two grandmothers, dummy. That lady was your daddy's mother. Her name is Mrs. Bailey. That makes her your other grandmother. My mom told me so.”

“Don't believe you.”

“Go ask her,” Linda urged.

“Okay, I will.” Amaryllis went forward with determination. A question had been raised. It would be answered. She would prove Linda was dumb, and that would be the end of the matter.

The closer Amaryllis got to the stranger, the more impressed she was. With her expensive clothes, imperious stature, and aristocratic air, Elizabeth Bailey was a vision on the streets of Lower Bellevue.

Elizabeth did not see Amaryllis until she felt the tug on her skirt. She turned her head and glanced down. A strange look appeared in her green eyes.

“Let go of my skirt,” Elizabeth said very quietly. “Do not touch me.”

“Excuse me,” Amaryllis said. “You're beautiful. My friend says you're my grandmother. Are you my grandmother?”

Elizabeth's face tightened. “Of course I'm not your grandmother. You have no grandmother. You're a bastard.” She turned and walked away without another word.

Amaryllis stood staring after her, ice cream dripping on the sidewalk, until Sophy emerged from the bank. Other children had called Amaryllis a bastard. But this was the first time an adult had done so to her face. When an adult said something, you had to take it seriously.

Sophy had taken one look at the car parked at the curb and another at Amaryllis's face. She had put two and two together instantly. Heedless of the melting ice cream, she had pulled Amaryllis into her arms.

“Don't take any notice of Elizabeth Bailey, dear.”

“Is she really my grandmother?”

“Yes, but she doesn't want to admit it because she feels guilty.”

“Why?”

“It's a long story, sweetie, and this is neither the time nor the place to tell it.”

“She hates me. And I hate her.”

“Someday you'll understand.”

“What will I understand?” Amaryllis demanded with the stubborn determination to learn the answers that was to become a lifelong trait.

“Someday you'll know why Elizabeth did what she did,” Sophy said, “and why she can't forgive herself or anyone else.”

“But what did she do?”

Sophy sighed. “She's the one who forced your daddy to marry the wrong woman. Elizabeth knew from the beginning that it was a bad match, but all she could see was money and land and status. She thought those things would make your father happy, but they didn't. All he wanted was your mother, but he was too young to fight Elizabeth.”

“I hate her,” Amaryllis said. She whirled around and flung
her ice cream cone at Elizabeth Bailey's expensive car. The contents of the cone spattered across the windshield.

Sophy contemplated the mess with a curious expression. “Couldn't have said it better myself.”

The ice cream cone incident was the last time she had ever done something so blatantly outrageous, so reckless, so out of control, Amaryllis reflected. Until she had met Lucas Trent.

“This is so exciting, isn't it?” Hannah said on the other end of the phone.

“Thrilling.”

“I'll mail this form off to your counselor, Mrs. Reeton, this afternoon. You should be hearing from her soon. She'll want to schedule an appointment for the two of you to get together for the formal interview.”

“Can't wait,” Amaryllis said. “If you're through with the questionnaire, I should get back to work, Aunt Hannah.”

“Of course, dear.” Hannah cleared her throat discreetly. “How is your social life?”

“My social life?”

“Are you still seeing Mr. Trent?”

Amaryllis's mouth went dry. “Occasionally.”

“What a pity he's a strong talent. Now that I think about it, he meets some of the criteria that you listed on the questionnaire, doesn't he? Dark-haired, successful entrepreneur—”

“It's purely a superficial resemblance, Aunt Hannah. I really have to go. Give my love to Uncle Oscar and the rest of the family.”

“I will. Oh, by the way, Oscar and I will be in the city the day after tomorrow. We'll spend the night at that little hotel near your place since you don't have an extra bedroom.”

“Great. I'll look forward to it. See you soon.”

“And you're still planning on coming home to Lower Bellevue for Sophy's birthday party week after next, of course.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world, you know that. Goodbye, Aunt Hannah.”

“Good-bye, dear. See you on Friday.”

Amaryllis dropped the phone into its cradle and went
back to the notes she had been making when Hannah had interrupted her. None of the points she had listed connected with anything in any way that formed a pattern or inspired a flash of intuition, but she could feel the storm clouds of wrongness gathering. A growing restlessness pervaded her entire being. She needed answers.

She studied what she had written on the pad.

1. Prism using Landreth's techniques and style focuses for Madison Sheffield. Unethical, but not illegal, use of Sheffield's talent. Prism most likely trained by Gifford, not Landreth. Same techniques account for similarities in focus style. Landreth would not have approved.

2. Phone call indicating that there was something mysterious about Landreth and that Vivien of the Veils might have info. Gifford suggests that call was possibly made by Irene Dunley because Irene secretly loved Landreth. Irene knew about Vivien of the Veils. But what did she think Vivien might know?

3. Note on Landreth's calendar made the day of his death indicates a three o'clock appointment with Gifford. Gifford claims to know nothing about it. Says he would never have met with Landreth in any event. Serious animosity between Landreth and Gifford.

4. Landreth died at approximately seven o'clock in the evening, according to newspaper accounts. Fall from path along cliff near his weekend cabin. No sign of foul play. Did he cancel his three o'clock appointment with Gifford? Did he change his mind? Did something else come up?

5. Few people mourned the passing of Jonathan Landreth. He was respected, but he was not well liked except by me and Irene Dunley. Did he have some actual enemies? Did anyone else dislike him as much as Gifford?

Amaryllis put down her pen and pondered. Her intuition was churning, but perhaps she was overreacting to the
scanty evidence. After all, a lot was going on in her life these days.

Mentally, she composed another list. This one included all her recent stress factors.

1. Involved in a passionate affair with an unsuitable talent.

2. First visit to a syn-sex club. Meeting with stripper. Attacked in Founders Square. Learned that Lucas was an off-the-chart talent. Made love. Big night, all things considered.

3. In the midst of registering with a marriage agency.

4. Engaged in act of breaking and entering.

No doubt about it, her stress level was high, Amaryllis concluded. And the list of stress factors was lengthening with each passing hour.

But the questions would not go away.

The door slammed open. Clementine charged into the office as if she sat astride her high-powered ice-cycle. She throbbed with outrage.

“What in the five hells is going on, Lark?” Clementine planted her hands on Amaryllis's desk and thrust out her strong chin. “If you're not happy here at Psynergy, Inc., tell me about it. Don't go looking for another job behind my back. You want a raise? Is that it? You've only been here six months, but you did bring in a major client. I'm willing to negotiate.”

Amaryllis had been working for Clementine long enough to become accustomed to her volatile boss's moods. “Calm down. I'm not looking for another job. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Clementine's steel rings glittered as she drummed all ten fingers on Amaryllis's desk. “I just got back from having lunch with Gracie. She says that gossip has it you were seen coming out of the offices of Unique Prisms this morning.”

Understanding dawned. Amaryllis smiled ruefully. “Gossip has it right. I went to talk to Gifford Osterley. He and I
go back a long way together. We knew each other when we both worked at the university.”

“I'm aware of that.” Clementine straightened and scowled down at Amaryllis. “I thought that whatever was going on between the two of you was over.”

“It is. I went to see him about a business matter.”

“What kind of business takes you to a rival firm?” Clementine demanded suspiciously.

Amaryllis hesitated and then made a decision. “I discovered that on the day of his death Professor Landreth had an appointment with Gifford. I wanted to ask Gifford if Landreth had kept the appointment.”

“What does Landreth have to do with any of this?”

“I'm not sure. Clementine, I know this is going to sound strange, but I've begun to wonder if Landreth's death was something more than an accident.”

Clementine whistled softly. She sprawled in the nearest chair. “What makes you think that?” Her eyes narrowed. “Prism intuition?”

“Partially. But there are some other things that make me uneasy.” Amaryllis told her about the phone call, the visit to Vivien, and the note about the three o'clock appointment with Gifford on Landreth's calendar. She decided not to explain just how she had come to see the appointment calendar.

When she was finished, Clementine stared at her, incredulous.

“You went to a syn-sex club?”

Amaryllis blushed. “Yes. I wanted to talk to Vivien of the Veils.”

“Alone?” Clementine's voice rose. “You went to a syn-sex club all by yourself?”

“Not exactly. A friend accompanied me.”

“What friend?”

Amaryllis pressed her lips together. “Lucas Trent.”

“Trent? Five hells.”

“He accompanied me because I invited him,” Amaryllis said quickly. “It wasn't his idea.”

“I wasn't talking about him, I was talking about you. I can't quite envision you in a syn-sex club.”

Amaryllis felt herself turn a brighter shade of pink. “The synergistically generated sex was all an act.”

“No kidding.”

“The dancers didn't actually have sex on stage. They just simulated the motions. The talent and prism who worked in the show didn't focus any real sexual feelings, either. Lucas and I checked using his detector-talent.”

Clementine's mouth kicked up at the corner. “You were expecting maybe the real thing? A focus-induced orgasm, courtesy of a bunch of syn-sex nightclub performers?”

“Clementine.”

“Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you.” Clementine laced her fingers together and raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “What I wouldn't have given to see Trent's reaction when you invited him to go to the club. He must have thought he'd fallen through the curtain and come out on some planet on the other side of the universe.”

Amaryllis failed to see the humor in the situation. “I explained that it was a business matter.”

“Sure.” Clementine sat forward in her chair. “Okay, tell me what this Vivien of the Veils had to say about Landreth.”

“Not much, unfortunately. Just that she had seen Professor Landreth the day before he died and he seemed a little more tense than usual.”

Clementine's brows rose. “Tense?”

“Vivien claimed that Landreth was always tense.”

“That's what Gracie said, too.”

“Gracie?”

“She worked with him on a committee a couple of years ago. One of those town-and-gown things where academics and businesspeople get together to discuss matters of mutual interest. She said Landreth was a real pain in the ass. Very anal retentive.”

Amaryllis decided to let that observation pass. “At any rate, after I spoke to Vivien, I decided to talk to Gifford. I wanted to ask him about the three o'clock appointment with Professor Landreth. He said he knew nothing about it.”

“Hmm.”

“Clementine, I'm beginning to wonder if Professor Landreth discovered that Gifford was operating a bit over the line, ethically speaking. I know Landreth would never have approved of Gifford's business practices. The question is, did he know about them?”

“You think maybe Landreth made the appointment in order to confront Osterley about his business ethics?”

“Or lack thereof,” Amaryllis said.

“I think I know where this is going. You're wondering if Osterley got pissed when he realized that Landreth might soil the reputation of his operation. You think your friend Gifford croaked the old dude to keep him quiet?”

“No, of course not.” Amaryllis was shocked. “Gifford would never kill anyone.”

“From what Gracie says, Osterley is the kind of guy who has a price. Pay it and you get his services. A man like that might kill to protect his business interests.”

“Gifford may be unethical but he is no murderer. Perhaps that note on Landreth's calendar wasn't a scheduled appointment. Maybe the professor simply intended to call Gifford at three o'clock to discuss matters.”

“And never made the call?”

“Or Gifford refused to take the call,” Amaryllis said. “Clementine, it's all getting so complicated. I don't know what's going on, but I feel that something is very wrong.”