Eye of the Beholder

Dad's death and Guthrie's so-called accident."
    She paused with the glass halfway to her mouth. Slowly she set it back down on the counter. "You're talking about your conspiracy theory?"
    "I like to think of it as our conspiracy theory now."
    She studied him warily. "You're serious, aren't you?"
    He touched his glass to hers and then raised it to his mouth. "I have never been more serious in my life."
    "I'm listening."
    "In a word, Dimensions. "
    She blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, that wasn't it. "What about Dimensions? You're not suggesting some kind of metaphysical aspect to this thing, are you?"
    He pondered that. "Maybe."
    "Come on, Trask."
    "This afternoon I found out that, at the time of his death, Guthrie was heavily invested in several construction projects."
    "So?"
    "According to my information, he wanted to pull out of one of the deals because he had to raise cash in order to get into a hot mall project outside of Phoenix ."
    "Wait a second, are you saying that someone may have murdered Dean Guthrie because he was threatening to yank his investment funds in a development?"
    "I think it's a real possibility."
    "That sounds like a replay of your theory about your father's death."
    "I know. That's exactly what it is."
    She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense."
    "Go with me on this, Alexa. Twelve years ago Guthrie was in a financial bind. He had to raise cash quickly to meet his investment commitments. My father was standing in his way."
    "I've heard this part of your theory before. What does it have to do with the present scenario?"
    "Guess which investment commitment Guthrie met twelve years ago with the money he pulled from Dad's project."
    "I don't have a clue."
    Trask savored a long, slow swallow of wine. "Guthrie had committed himself to a line of credit for the Dimensions Institute."
    She stilled. "You're moving too fast for me. Slow down and tell me exactly where you think you're going with this."
    "There are still some crucial pieces of the puzzle missing, but here's what I've got so far." Trask leaned back against the counter. "Twelve years ago Guthrie had to choose between two investments, Dad's resort project and the Dimensions Institute. He chose the Dimensions project, but Dad threatened to tie up both him and his money in court for months."
    "You think someone killed your father to free up Guthrie's money so that he could sink it into Dimensions?"
    "Yeah. I can't prove murder yet, but I can sure as hell prove that Dimensions is where Guthrie's money went after my father was killed. There's a nice, neat paper trail."
    "Okay, go on. But remember to keep it slow and easy."
    Trask took another swallow of wine and set the glass down. He met Alexa's eyes. "I think history has just repeated itself. Only this time it was Guthrie at the wheel."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I just told you Guthrie was in another cash bind just before his death."
    "You said he was trying to get out of his commitments to one construction project in order to free up cash for another."
    "You get one guess to name the project he wanted to pull out of."
    "How in the world would I know—" She broke off as her intuition took over. "Oh, my God. You said the link was Dimensions. Are you talking about the new Dimensions Santa Fe project?"
    "Welcome to Business 101. You may go to the head of the class."
    "Do you realize what you're saying?" She struggled to absorb the implications. "If you follow this to the logical conclusion, it means that someone may have murdered both your father and Guthrie for the same reason. Dimensions."
    "Right." Trask picked up his glass and studied the blood-red zin . "Twice during the past twelve years crucial investment cash intended for a Dimensions Institute project was jeopardized. I think that on each occasion someone stepped in to get rid of the investor who was standing in the way."
    Alexa suddenly recalled the conversation she'd had with Dylan Fenn and Stewart Lutton in Spheres. An image of Joanna's tense, anxious face loomed in her mind. Her mouth went dry.
    "You do realize what this means, don't you?" Trask said with icy anticipation.
    "Yes." She rested her elbows on the counter and let the conclusions sink in. "As far as you're concerned, it's more evidence against your newest suspect."
    "Webster Bell. Everything fits."

    Two hours later Trask settled into the patio lounger and contemplated the star-studded sky. He could get accustomed to this, he decided. It was strange that, after