“I must admit, I would find the work interesting,” Cutter said thoughtfully. “Keep the old brain sharp.”
“We’re both retired,” Venicia reminded Molly. “We have the time for charity work.”
“Give the matter some consideration, Molly.” Cutter rose to his feet and took Venicia’s hand. “Turning the reins of the foundation over to your aunt might solve all of your problems. Now, you must excuse us. Venicia and I have an appointment with our travel agent. Got a honeymoon to plan, you know.”
“That reminds me,” Venicia said. “You won’t forget that you promised to come with me when I shop for my wedding gown, Molly?”
“I won’t forget,” Molly said.
Venicia and Cutter turned toward the office door. They halted abruptly when they saw that it was open. Harry lounged there, one shoulder against the jamb.
“Don’t let me get in the way,” he said softly.
Cutter bristled. “We don’t intend to.” He conducted Venicia through the doorway.
A moment later the front door of the shop closed behind them. Molly swallowed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Why is it,” Harry asked, “that every time I walk into your office lately I find someone trying to convince you that I’m a threat to the Abberwick Foundation assets? First Gordon Brooke and now your aunt and her fiancé.”
“I’m sorry you overheard that. Venicia and Cutter are concerned, that’s all. It’s the Wharton Kendall thing.”
“It sounded like more than that,” Harry said. “I thought I heard something about honorable intentions.”
Molly blushed. “Aunt Venicia and Cutter are a little old-fashioned.”
“What a coincidence.” Harry’s eyes were unreadable. “I just came from a meeting with someone else who takes an old-fashioned view of two people living together without benefit of a marriage license.”
Molly gave him a very bright smile. “Luckily for us, we’re both modern thinkers.”
13
He goes by the name of Wharton Kendall,” Harry said into the phone. He paced the floor of his study as he talked to Fergus Rice. “I want you to find out where he is now and where he might have been yesterday, if possible.”
“I’ll do my best. Fax me what you’ve got from that grant proposal you said he wrote and anything else that looks interesting.”
“I will.”
There was a pause accompanied by soft clicking sounds on the other end of the line. Harry knew that Fergus was making notes on his computer.
Fergus Rice was a private investigator. One of the best. Harry had used his services occasionally in the past when he had needed practical information to supplement his own scholarly deductions in the course of an investigation into scientific fraud.
Harry was an expert when it came to studying the academic and technical evidence, but he was not a trained investigator in the old-fashioned, gumshoe sense of the word. He could have learned the craft, but he preferred not to spend his time in the mundane task of checking addresses and phone numbers. He paid other people to do that for him when necessary and billed the client for the expense.
“Is that it?” Fergus asked when he’d finished his notes.
“For now. If I come up with more, I’ll let you know. Put a rush on this, will you, Fergus? The man’s getting flakier by the day. The first two practical jokes were not lethal, but if that was Kendall in the blue Ford yesterday, he’s definitely become dangerous.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Harry tossed the phone down into the cradle and went to stand in front of the large saltwater aquarium. He contemplated the angel fish as they cruised the miniature reef and wondered how many more people were going to get in line to convince Molly that she should not put her trust in him.
He had a reputation for being able to identify swindlers and charlatans of the most sophisticated kind, Harry thought. Large corporations and the government sought out his services when scientific fraud was suspected. He had written a book on the history of scientific hoaxes and another volume on the perils of scientific and academic illusions.
It seemed to him that his entire life had been devoted to the study of deception. His Trevelyan birthright had given him the skills to detect hustlers, liars, and cheats. His Stratton blood had provided him with sound business instincts. His academic training had endowed him with the knowledge and insight that enabled him to spot high-tech flimflammers.
Always he had been on the side of truth. Always he had been the one to expose the deceivers. Always he had taken the righteous stance and pointed the finger at those who sought to deceive.
Now people were telling Molly that he was very probably trying to deceive and defraud her. And he had no way to prove his innocence.
So far she seemed to trust him. How many times would she have to hear him accused of sleeping with her in order to get his hands on the Abberwick Foundation assets before she began to put some credence in the notion, he wondered.
He also wondered how many times she could listen to someone label him crazy before she began to believe it.
There was a soft sound from the hall.
“Brooding again?” Molly asked cheerfully from the doorway.
Harry turned swiftly to face her. “I didn’t hear you come home.”
“I arrived just as Ginny was leaving.” Molly crossed the study to put her arms around his neck.
He folded her close and bent his head to kiss her. It felt good to have her here at the end of a long day, he thought. It felt right. He did not want to think about what might happen if she listened to the accusations and warnings.
Molly leaned her head back and searched his face with her gem-green eyes. “Want to talk about dinner?”
He smiled slightly. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think we should go out this evening. You’re in one of your morose phases. Probably the full moon. Dinner out might help you shake off the mood.”
“All right.” A shiver of unease went through him. He wondered if his periodic bouts of solemn contemplation were starting to bother her. The possibility darkened his already bleak frame of mind. He struggled to strike an upbeat note. “You choose the restaurant.”
“Why don’t we go across the street to that new place featuring Pacific Rim cuisine?” She paused as one of the two phones on the desk burbled. “Oops. Private line. Must be family.” Her hands dropped away from his neck.
“Damn.” Harry eyed the phone with misgivings. For a few seconds he actually thought about ignoring the call. He did not want to deal with any more family problems today. Then he reached for the receiver.
“This is Harry.”
“Harry, it’s me, Josh.”
The urgency in Josh’s voice fueled Harry’s gathering gloom as nothing else could have done. “What’s wrong?”
“Grandpa is in the hospital here in Hidden Springs. He crashed his new truck an hour ago.”
Harry closed his eyes briefly. “How bad?”
“Bad. The doctor warned us that the next few hours are critical.” There was a desperate, disbelieving note in Josh’s voice. “He said Grandpa might not make it through the night.”
Harry glanced at his watch. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t give up the ship. Leon is one tough old bird.”
“He’s not really that old. He’s not even seventy, you know. Lots of people live a lot longer.”
“Take it easy, Josh.”
Josh paused. When he spoke again, his voice was very subdued. “There was a fire at the scene, Harry. Just like there was when Dad was killed.”
“I’m on my way, kid.”
“Thanks.”
Harry put down the phone. He looked at Molly. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to drive to Hidden Springs tonight. Leon managed to smash up his new truck. And, being Leon, he managed to make
a spectacular mess of the situation.”
“I’ll go with you,” Molly said.
Harry was startled at his reaction to her quiet offer. He was so accustomed to dealing with Trevelyan and Stratton family crises on his own that he did not immediately recognize the sense of relief that he felt.
Molly stood near the window of the hospital room and listened to the beeps, pings, and clicks of the machines that kept Leon Trevelyan from slipping through death’s trapdoor. Leon was not aware of her presence. His attention was equally divided between his pain and Harry.
Harry was alone at Leon’s bedside. A variety of Trevelyans, including Josh and Evangeline, hovered in the waiting room down the hall. The nurse had refused to allow them all into Leon’s room at the same time.
Molly had seen the way the entire family had turned toward Harry when he had walked into the hospital a short while ago. It was as if they expected him to take charge. And in some subtle but unmistakable manner, he had done just that.
He had first conferred quietly with the doctor. Then he had announced that he wanted to talk to Leon for a few minutes. Molly had started to take a seat near Josh, but Harry had looked at her, and she had known that he wanted her to accompany him into the room.
“Well, Leon, you nearly did it this time, didn’t you?” Harry said quietly.
“Shit. Who sent for you, Harry?” Leon’s voice rasped in his throat. “I don’t need you here.”
“Believe me, there are a number of other places I’d rather be.”
“Me, too.” Leon paused as if to gather energy. “Where’s Josh?”
“Out in the waiting room.”
“Send him back in here, damn it.”
“I will in a few minutes. We need to talk first.”
“Why?”
“I spoke to the cops,” Harry said. “They told me that you wrapped the truck around a tree. It was raining. Driving too fast in unsafe conditions, according to the report.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Leon muttered. “I’m dyin’, and you want to give me another one of your damned safety lectures.”
Molly saw Harry’s jaw tighten, but his expression did not alter. It remained implacable. She knew then that he had a very specific goal, and he would do whatever he had to do in order to achieve it.
“Not a lecture,” Harry said. “I want to make a deal with you. Don’t get me wrong. I think you’ll probably make it through this. God knows you’ve made it this far.”
“The old Trevelyan reflexes,” Leon whispered hoarsely.
“Right. The old Trevelyan reflexes. But just in case you don’t come through this time, there’s something you should know.”
Leon opened one eye and squinted up at Harry. “What’s that?”
“Don’t expect me to polish your hero image with Josh after you’re gone. Not unless you and I reach an understanding here.”
“Christ, he’s my grandson. He’s all I’ve got left.”
“I know. But I’ll tell him everything, Leon, if you don’t agree to my terms.”
“Goddamned blackmailer. That’s what you are.”
“You and I have been blackmailing each other for years, Leon.”
“Bullshit.” Leon sucked in air. “It was a rigged game. You always held the winning hand.”
“One more deal, Leon. One more deal, and you can die a hero in Josh’s eyes. Of course, he’d rather have you live, but that’s up to you.”
“Jesus H. Christ. What d’ya want from me?”
Harry rested his arms on the raised bed rail and clasped his hands loosely together. He looked down into his uncle’s haggard features. From where she stood Molly could see his eyes. They were as hard as polished amber, but she could have sworn she saw pain burning beneath the surface. He did not like what he was doing, but he was going to see it through. Josh was his first priority.
“I’m going to send Josh back in here in a few minutes. When I do, I want you to set him free of the past.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I want you to tell him that times have changed. The days of wild living and stupid risk taking are gone forever. Tell him that his father would never have wanted him to follow in his footsteps. Tell him that you don’t want him to do it, either. Tell him that you want him to continue on the new road that he’s chosen. That you’re proud of him. Give him your blessing, Leon.”
“Christ, Harry. You want me to tell him it’s okay to become like you? You want me to encourage him to turn his back on his heritage?”
“I want you to tell him,” Harry said with relentless determination, “that you’ve been wrong all these years. That you realize now that it’s time for the next generation of Trevelyan men to evolve. It’s time for them to rely on their brains instead of their guts and their reflexes.”
“Why should I do that?” Leon hissed. “You’ve already convinced him to finish college. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“It’s not enough for him. He loves you, Leon. He wants your approval. He needs to hear you tell him that you don’t think he’s a failure as a man just because he’s chosen a path that will lead him away from fast cars and hard living.”
“Josh doesn’t give a damn about me.” Leon’s voice was strained with bitterness. “You’ve been his hero for years. Ever since you took him away from his family.”
“You’re wrong. You’re his grandfather, and nothing can ever change that. He needs something from you that I can’t give him, Leon. He needs to know you approve of the future he wants to pursue. It will make things a hell of a lot easier for him.”
“Five will get you ten I know what the terms of this deal are.”
Harry shrugged. “Same as always. If you do this for Josh, I won’t tell him about Willy.”
“Shit. I knew that was coming.”
Leon’s face contorted with anguish. He drew another rasping breath. “How do I know I can trust you?”
Harry was silent for a moment. “Have I ever lied to you, Uncle Leon?”
Leon’s answer was lost in a wracking cough. When he recovered, he gazed blearily up at Harry. “You win, you SOB. Send him in, and then get outa here. I’ll do this in my own way.”
“Sure.” Harry straightened.
For a few seconds he continued to gaze down at Leon. A wave of intense sadness went through Molly. She knew there was something else Harry wanted to say. Something that would not have been a threat or a form of coercion. Something that might have constituted a gesture of peace, an offer to end what was obviously an old war.
But in that brief moment, Molly also knew that Harry did not know how to claim the truce he wanted. He had asked Leon to set Josh free of the past, but Harry could not ask for a gift of equal value for himself.
Without a word, he turned away from the bed. Molly met his eyes in the shadows. She held out her hand. He took it, his fingers closing fiercely around hers.
Together, they left the room.
“It was weird.” Josh picked up the hospital cafeteria tray and carried it toward a small table. “It was as though Grandpa was trying to say good-bye. He was different than I’ve ever seen him. Not so tough. Much older, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s been through a lot tonight.” Molly sat down and took the plastic cups off the tray. “It’s probably given him a great deal to think about.”
“Yeah.”
Molly was well aware that it was Harry, not the near-fatal truck accident, that had been responsible for whatever philosophical change had come over Leon. Harry had said nothing to her about the scene she had witnessed in Leon’s room, but she knew without being told that he did not want Josh to know what had occurred.
It was nearly midnight. She had invited Josh to join her in the cafeteria after he had left his grandfather’s side a few minutes earlier.
Harry was occup
ied with the hospital paperwork and the insurance forms. Everyone seemed to assume that it was his job to take care of those things. The other Trevelyans talked quietly to each other in the waiting room while they took turns maintaining the bedside vigil.
“Cheer up, Josh. Your grandfather has made it this far.” Molly sipped the excruciatingly bad tea she had bought at the counter. She hated tea made from a tea bag. It never compared to the freshly brewed product. “The doctor said his condition has stabilized. I’d say his odds of making it until morning are getting better all the time.”
“But he talked as if he expected to die. Said he wanted to tell me some things that have been on his mind.” Josh stirred his coffee with a plastic stick. “He told me that he’d been wrong all these years when he tried to get me into racing.”
“Did he?” Molly kept her voice neutral.
“He said the Trevelyan men have always lived by their guts and their reflexes, but that a lot of ‘em didn’t live very long. He said the world has changed. It’s brains that count now. He said I’ve got more than my father and he had put together, and I shouldn’t waste them.”
Molly nodded. “Your grandfather obviously wants a different future for you than the one he and your father made for themselves.”
“Yeah.” Josh hesitated. “I’ve always planned on finishing college and going for my doctorate. I’ve wanted to do the kind of work Harry does since I was thirteen. But Grandpa always said a man has to prove himself by looking death in the face and spitting in its eye. He said a man has to live on the edge or he’ll go soft. He’s always said that Harry was a gutless wonder.”
“Hmm.”
Josh looked up from his coffee. “He said things like that about Harry even after he found out what happened when Harry’s folks were murdered.”
Molly put down her cup and stared at Josh. “What, exactly, did happen?”
Josh was chagrined. “I take it Harry hasn’t told you the full story?”