Flash

the
Wall Street Journal
and
Hard Currency
. You'd be amazed at how much more well-rounded you'd become. People might start inviting you out You could even develop a social life."
    "Skip the lecture on how I don't get out enough. What else do you know about Olivia Chantry?"
    "Just what I read in the
West Coast Neo
piece. Crawford Lee Wilder called her Logan Dane's Dark Muse."
    "Who the hell is Crawford Lee Wilder?"
    "Damn, you are a troglodyte when it comes to culture, aren't you? Wilder works for
West Coast Neo
. He's very big in the journalism world. Got a Pulitzer a while back when he was working for the
Seattle Banner-Journal
. He did an investigative reporting series on one of those big motivational speaker firms. You know, a company that gives seminars on how to motivate employees."
    That clicked. "I remember the series. I read it."
    "Congratulations," Al said dryly.
    "He did a solid, in-depth analysis. Showed that the company was operating a scam."
    "The firm he profiled later filed for bankruptcy because of the article."
    "How come Wilder called Olivia Chantry Dane's Dark Muse?" Jasper asked.
    "Wilder credited her with being the marketing genius behind Dane's career. He also hinted strongly that she was Dane's artistic inspiration. That he could not paint without her. When she threatened to leave him, he went nuts. Ms. Chantry, however, made out like a bandit after Dane's death."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Apparently she inherited all of the Logan Dane paintings that had not been sold. Since the market for Dane's work has done nothing but explode straight into the stratosphere in the past three years, I think you can assume Ms. Chantry is sitting on a fortune in art."
    "Interesting."
    "We may get to see some of her private collection at the end of the month." Al's voice was suddenly infused with enthusiasm. "The Kesgrove Museum of Modern Art is putting on a Dane retrospective soon."
    "That's nice," Jasper said absently. He noticed that the line at the departure gate was starting to move. "Look, I've got to go, Al. I'll talk to you when I get back."
    "You're sure you don't want to finish out the month there on Pelapili?"
    "Not a chance. I'm suffering serious fax-withdrawal already. No telling what will happen if I stay any longer."
    Jasper replaced the phone, but he did not take his hand off the receiver. For a moment he contemplated the view through the open walls of the flight lounge. Palm trees shuddered in a sluggish trade wind. The sparkle of sunlight on blue water would have been blinding if not for the dark glasses he wore.
    His entire future had been altered by the deal he had done with Roland Chantry. Fifty-one percent of Glow, Inc., was now his.
    He released the phone and picked up his flight bag. There was something to be said for a tropical vacation after all, he decided. True, until yesterday, the trip had been a crashing bore. But things were finally looking up.
    For the first time in months he had an intriguing project on which to focus his considerable powers of attention and energy. He had a goal.
    He not only owned a new business, he had a new business partner. That meant that a wide assortment of problems awaited him back in Seattle. They were the kind of problems he was good at handling.
    The fleeting thoughts he'd had concerning a second marriage vanished. Just as well, he thought cheerfully. He was not very good at marriage.
    He was, however, downright brilliant when it came to business.
    He was whistling under his breath when he walked on board the plane a few minutes later. When the cabin attendant offered him that day's edition of the
Wall Street Journal
, Jasper decided that life was good.
    He immersed himself immediately in a piece on corporate tax strategies. He did not bother to look out the window to watch Pelapili disappear.

3
    « ^ »
    B olivar waved his hands in exasperation. "Know what your problem is, Olivia? You've got no romance in your soul."
    Hands on her hips, Olivia glared up at her cousin, who was perched on a stepladder. "I'm not looking for romance. I'm after a few cheap thrills. I want chills down the spine. A nice creepy feeling."
    "This is supposed to be Merlin's Cave." Bolivar stabbed a finger at the looming entrance of the life-sized model of a cavern. "You're dealing with a romantic archetype. The fog will enhance the atmosphere, trust me."
    Olivia pushed her glasses more firmly into place on her nose and scowled at the mammoth structure that occupied a large