Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
“You have to understand, Zara is very upset. She's kept the secret of her X-rated film career a secret for years. She's afraid that all the rest of the Chantrys will be humiliated and embarrassed if the truth comes out.”
Jasper raised one brow. “Is that true?”
Olivia hesitated. “I have to tell you that, speaking as her niece, it's a little mind-boggling to think of Aunt Zara as an X-rated actress. But I can't say I'm overcome with shock and horror.”
“I didn't think so.”
“Zara's worried about the others, though. My brother, for example, is involved not only professionally, but personally, with Eleanor Lancaster.”
“Are you serious? Your brother has fallen for a politician?”
Olivia nodded unhappily. “Uh-huh. Aunt Zara's afraid that if the Lancaster campaign gets wind of Todd's connection to a former porn star, it could hurt his career as well as his relationship with Eleanor Lancaster.”
Jasper considered that angle for a few seconds and dismissed it. “It's an old story that might be worth a couple of inches of newsprint, but that's about it. Nothing that would endanger Lancaster's run for the governor's chair.”
“I tend to agree with you, but Zara is convinced that if she doesn't pay off the blackmailer, she might inadvertently ruin Todd's career and personal life. And then there are all of the relatives in Zara's generation. The Chantrys are a large family. There's no denying that some of them are on the prissy side.”
“So you tried to identify the blackmailer today.”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unfortunately, you screwed things up at the last minute.”
He held up one hand, palm out. “Don't blame me, lady. Whoever sent that message telling me that you
wanted to see me ASAP is the one who screwed things up for you.”
She sighed. “You're right. I thought about it a lot after I left you this afternoon. The snafu at the market was my fault. The blackmailer spotted me and called your office. I guess it really wasn't a very good disguise.”
“No, it wasn't.” He had recognized her instantly. The graceful curve of her spine, the tilt of her head, the shape of her hand as she gripped the coffee cup. Hell, he would have known her in a darkened room.
“The bad news,” Olivia continued in very distinct tones, “is that because I messed up today, you are now involved in this problem.”
He let a beat of silence go past before he said, very carefully, “I'm flattered as hell, of course, that you've seen fit to include me in your little adventure.”
“You won't be so thrilled once you open that envelope and find out what an active role you've got.”
Her entire mood had changed since he had seen her at the Market, he reflected.
He picked up the envelope and slowly raised the flap. There was a single sheet of letter-sized paper inside. It was the kind of ubiquitous, anonymous paper that was used in laser printers in offices and homes everywhere.
He withdrew the note and read the computer-generated message.
I do not tolerate interference in my business affairs. Now you and Sloan must be taught a lesson
.
“You do realize,” Jasper said quietly, “that it's time to go to the police.”
“No
. At least not yet.” Olivia uncurled herself very quickly and sat forward in her chair. She pressed her knees tensely together. “I know that there's an implied threat to you in that note. That's why I told you the whole story.”
“The threat is to both of us,” he pointed out dryly.
“Yes, but it's probably meaningless.”
“Meaningless?”
“The blackmailer is lashing out in anger,” she said. “He must know that you and I are not the kind who would ever pay blackmail. He's just trying to scare us off so that he can prey on Zara.”
Her airy dismissal of the threat to herself irritated Jasper. “I take it you've had a lot of experience with blackmailers?”
“Don't be ridiculous. I'm just telling you that I don't think you're in any real danger.”
“Thanks. I can't tell you how much better that makes me feel.”
She gave him an annoyed glare. “There's no call for sarcasm.”
“Sorry, don't know what came over me.”
“My only concern here is for Aunt Zara. I promised her that we'd make another attempt to identify the blackmailer.”
“We?” he repeated cautiously.
“If the next attempt fails,” she continued briskly, “I think I can talk her into hiring a private investigator. She has a rather romantic view of PIs because of her years in television.”
Jasper dropped the blackmail letter onto the table. “Just how do you propose to catch this guy? You didn't have much luck this afternoon.”
“I didn't have time to put together a really good plan today. The disguise was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“I see.”
“But surely between the two of us we should be able to come up with a way to nail him.” Olivia paused. “Or her.”
“The quickest way to end this is to turn it over to the authorities.”
“The quickest,
quietest
way to end it is to identify the blackmailer.”
He contemplated the fresh enthusiasm and determination in her eyes. Apparently now that she had got past the awkward part, namely informing him that he was involved, her goal-oriented nature had reasserted itself. She was ready to move forward on the project.
“What do you plan to do with this blackmailer if you do make an identification?” he asked.
“Zara believes it's someone from her past,” Olivia said. “She says it has to be someone who once knew her very well. Maybe someone who actually worked with her on those X-rated films. She's convinced it's an old rival who's now down on his or her luck and looking for a way to make some quick cash.”
“I see.”
“She thinks that once we know the identity of the blackmailer, she can confront the person and warn him or her to leave her alone.”
“What makes her think that will work?” Jasper asked.
“She believes that the blackmailer won't want to be exposed as someone who once worked in the porn industry any more than she, herself, does.”
“In other words, she thinks she can neutralize the threat by making her own threats.”
“Right.” Olivia looked pleased by his quick grasp of the concept.
“Hmm.”
She pursed her lips. “You don't sound convinced.”
“I probably don't sound convinced because I'm not convinced.”
“Look, if it's any consolation, I happen to agree with you. I think we should turn the matter over to the
authorities. But I promised Aunt Zara that we'd try to identify the blackmailer first and let her decide whether or not to handle it on a personal basis.”
Jasper said nothing.
Olivia's brows came together in a tight line above the frames of her designer glasses. “You know as well as I do that Zara's approach to this is no different than the way most businesses handle employees who commit fraud or embezzlement. It's all hushed up.”
“This is not quite the same thing.”
“Yes, it is,” she said urgently. “Companies rarely go to the authorities when they suspect embezzlement because they don't want their clients and customers to find out that their internal security was lousy. They prefer to handle the matter privately. Zara wants to deal with this the same way.”
“And you promised her we'd help.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me something,” he said quietly. “Do you always rush to the aid of any member of the Chantry or Glow family who comes to you for help?”
She scowled. “What kind of a question is that?”
He exhaled slowly. “Forget it. You're right. It's a stupid question.” One to which he already knew the answer.
My niece is a lot like me
, Rollie Chantry had said at one point during the contract negotiations.
She understands her responsibilities to the family. When I'm gone, she'll watch out for Chantry interests
.
“Jasper, I'm very sorry about what happened this afternoon. I know that it's my fault that you're involved now.”
The apology annoyed him. “It was the blackmailer's fault, not yours.”
“If my disguise hadn't been so crummy, he or she would never have recognized me and called your office to send you rushing down to the Market.”
“That kind of logic makes me hungry. When do we eat?”
She blinked a couple of times at the abrupt change of topic. “What about Zara? We need to make some plans.”
“I think better on a full stomach.” He got to his feet and started toward the kitchen. “I hope you've got a microwave. We're going to need to reheat dinner. Got any lettuce?”
She glared at him through the opening above the counter. “Lettuce?”
“As long as there's a kitchen available, I might as well make a salad to go with the spinach lasagna I brought.” He opened the refrigerator. “Good. You've got some romaine.”
“Hang on, that's my kitchen.” Olivia bounced to her feet and hurried around the corner to join him. “Give me that lettuce.”
“Whatever you say.” He handed her the plastic sack full of romaine.
She shot him another scowling glance as she reached up to remove a stainless steel colander from a hook. There was an easy competency in her movements that told him she was comfortable in a kitchen.
Satisfied that she was going to proceed with the salad, he opened the paper bag. He removed the containers
of lukewarm lasagna and the loaf of crusty, rustic-style bread.
Olivia grudgingly pointed toward a cupboard. “The olive oil is in there.” She tipped her head slightly in the opposite direction. “Bread knife is in that drawer.”
“Thanks.”
For a few minutes they worked side-by-side without speaking. Jasper was aware that Olivia kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Do you like to cook?” she finally asked. “I mean, something more than just slicing bread and sticking take-out in a microwave?”
“I got used to kitchens after my nephews came to live with me a few years ago. It was either feed Kirby and Paul at home or watch them grow up addicted to hamburgers and pizza. All the books I read on the subject emphasized the importance of kids eating at home in a family environment.”
She looked intrigued. “You read books on how to raise kids?”
“As many as I could find.” He stuck the lasagna into the microwave and closed the door. “Like I said, my approach to most things is to collect as much information as possible before I take action.”
“Why did your nephews move in with you?”
“My stepbrother and his wife were killed on a skiing trip in Europe.” Jasper selected the cooking time on the face of the microwave. “There wasn't anyone else for Kirby and Paul.”
“I see.” Her eyes were suddenly unreadable. “No kids of your own?”
“No.” There was something about working with
someone in a kitchen that broke down the usual social barriers, Jasper reflected. Or maybe it was having a blackmailer threaten both of you in the same note that induced a certain artificial sense of togetherness. “My wife left a few months after Kirby and Paul moved in with me. I never found the time to remarry.”
“I know what you mean.” Her voice was quiet and cool. “I was in the process of filing for divorce when my husband died. Afterward I lost interest in the whole concept of marriage. Then I got very busy with Light Fantastic.” She shrugged.
Jasper recalled the Crawford Lee Wilder piece in
West Coast Neo
. The article had hinted, darkly, that it was his wife's threat to leave him that had caused Logan Dane to risk his neck running with the bulls in Pamplona. Wilder had also implied that the net result of Dane's death had been to leave Olivia holding a fortune in art.
From what he had seen of her private world, Jasper doubted that last bit. There was not a single painting hanging on the wall. She gave every appearance of being successful, but not wealthy. Everything he had seen thus far, including the Light Fantastic studio and this condo, could be explained by her own hard work and maybe a little assistance from her uncle.
“Where are your nephews now?” she asked.
“Both are at the university. They're taking summer sessions so that they can graduate sooner. Paul's headed for engineering, I think. But I can see Kirby in the academic world.”
She flashed him an impulsive smile. “Like my brother, Todd.”
Jasper glanced at her. “I thought you said he was a political consultant and a speechwriter.”
She wrinkled her nose. “He is now, but I'm hoping it's just a phase.”
“What happens if Lancaster wins in November?”
“I'm a little worried, if you want to know the truth.”
“About Lancaster winning?”
“No, of course not. She'll make a good governor. Maybe a great one. What concerns me is that Todd is falling for her.”