Eye of the Beholder

intimidated. He had to be convinced. Mentally she marshaled her arguments.
    "Deal," he said.
    She nearly dropped one of the mugs. "Do you always make decisions that quickly?"
    A laconic gleam lit his eyes. "I made this particular decision before I left you in that second-floor hallway tonight, Alexa."
    A sharp frisson of unease went through her. "Why?"
    "Because you're right. I don't have much choice. I've also got other issues that will require my full attention here in Avalon for the next few weeks. Whether or not I've been defrauded with a lot of phony Deco art and antiques is not the most important item on my agenda."
    "I was afraid of that." The piercing whistle of the tea kettle made her jump. She turned quickly and seized the kettle. "So the rumors are right. You have come back with some off-the-wall notion of revenge."
    "I'm here to get some answers."
    "It's been twelve years, Trask. How can you possibly find any after all this time?"
    "For the past six months I've had a private investigator looking into the backgrounds of the two men who were my father's partners at the time of his death."
    "Lloyd and that other man, Dean Guthrie."
    He nodded. "I've got information on Kenyon's and Guthrie's financial and personal situations twelve years ago that I did not have access to at the time."
    "And just what do you plan to do with that information?"
    "Use it to stir the pot until something boils over."
    "You sound like Machiavelli." She finished pouring the hot water and set the kettle down with more force than she had intended. "Listen, Trask, I don't know what information you think you've got about the past, but I want you to leave Lloyd alone, do you hear me? I know him as well as I knew my own father. Better in some ways, truth be told. He would never have been part of any conspiracy to murder anyone."
    "If that's true, you've got nothing to worry about, do you?"
    "Is that a threat?"
    "No. It's a statement of fact."
    "Damn it, if you think I'll stand by while you dig up the past in order to hurt innocent people ..."
    "I'm not after innocent people." His voice hardened appreciably. "I want the truth, and I intend to get it."
    She searched his face, shocked in spite of herself by the relentless determination she saw in him. "You really do believe that someone murdered your father, don't you?"
    "Yes."
    "But what possible motive could there have been?"
    "A business deal gone sour."
    "A lot of business deals go bad because the partners have a falling out. People don't murder other people because of that."
    "You're wrong," he said. "Sometimes they do."
    "Not Lloyd Kenyon." She was startled by her own fierce certainty. "He's a gentle, good-hearted man. He's not a killer."
    "I don't know yet if Kenyon was involved. Even if he wasn't, that still leaves another possibility."
    "Dean Guthrie."
    Trask watched her closely. "Do you know him?"
    "No," she admitted. "My mother told me that Lloyd hasn't done any business with him since that deal with your father."
    "According to my investigator, she's right. Kenyon and Guthrie went their separate ways after that partnership was blown apart. Maybe whatever happened the night my father went off Avalon Point made it impossible for either man to trust each other again."
    "Great" She threw her hands into the air. "Now you're weaving conspiracy theories. You're obsessed with this plot you've invented, aren't you?"
    "So my brother tells me." He glanced at the pot. "Is that tea ready?"
    She was so focused on trying to figure out how to handle an obsessed conspiracy theorist that for a second or two, she could not figure out what he was talking about. Then she turned her head to stare blankly at the teapot.
    "Yes." She seized the handle. "Yes, it is."
    She poured the tea, not because she wanted to be a good hostess but because she needed a moment to collect her thoughts into some logical sequence.
    She met Trask's eyes when she handed him one of the cups. "Tell me the truth. Have you got any hard evidence against Lloyd or Guthrie?"
    His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup from her hand. She could have sworn she saw sparks, the kind that crackled when she walked across a rug and touched something metallic.
    "Not yet," he said.
    She allowed herself to relax slightly. "Other than this thing you have about the past, you seem to be an intelligent man."
    His brows rose. "Gee, do you really think so or are you just saying that?"
    She pressed on grimly. "If nothing else, you've got your