Grand Passion

this?”
    “Because he left a quarter of a million dollars worth of art unaccounted for,” Max said grimly. “And everyone seems to think Cleo knows where the paintings are.”
    “Everyone meaning you and Garrison Spark?” O'Reilly asked dryly.
    Max set his back teeth. “I know Cleo doesn't know where the Luttrells are. But Spark still believes she does. He's already tried to talk her into turning them over to him for a fraction of what they're worth.”
    “You wouldn't believe how many people think I'm not real bright,” Cleo said. “My theory is that my choice in foot attire gives the wrong impression.”
    O'Reilly ignored her. “You think maybe these incidents are part of some sort of elaborate ploy to terrorize Cleo into producing the paintings, Max?”
    “It's a possibility,” Max said. “As you pointed out, the timing fits. They started shortly after Jason died.”
    O'Reilly hesitated. “Then why hasn't she received any notes warning her to sell or else?”
    Cleo held up a hand for attention. “Maybe Mr. Spark or whoever is behind this wants to get me really spooked first. When I'm totally traumatized and scared to death, he'll zing me with a demand to turn over the Luttrells.”
    “Maybe,” O'Reilly agreed. He didn't look convinced. He tapped his notebook with the tip of his pen. “Something else I wanted to mention while we're on the subject of the paintings. Nolan Hildebrand has to be counted as a suspect.”
    “Nolan?” Cleo's eyes widened. “Are you crazy? Nolan wouldn't stage those incidents.”
    “You can't be sure of that,” Max said. “He tried to get you to help him find the paintings so that he could collect Spark's finder's fee, remember?”
    Cleo grimaced. “Yes, but I just don't see Nolan as the sort who would concoct all those stagy incidents. Besides, he was genuinely shocked when he found out I'd written The Mirror . I know he was. He couldn't have known about it earlier.”
    “His shock could have been an act,” Max said. “He might have been trying to deflect suspicion from himself.”
    “I don't know.” Cleo's expression was dubious. “Nolan just isn't that convoluted in his thinking processes, if you know what I mean.”
    “You mean he's simpleminded?” Daystar asked bluntly.
    Cleo scowled. “Not quite. I just don't see him as the type to put together a real devious scheme like this.”
    “Maybe,” O'Reilly said. “Maybe not. I still think we have to consider him as a possibility.”
    Cleo threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Nolan is a suspect. In that case, you might as well add Adrian Forrester to the list. The same logic applies. But I want you all to know that I'm going on record with my own private, personal opinion that neither one of them is behind the incidents.”
    Max looked at her. “You were willing enough to consider Forrester as a suspect earlier.”
    Cleo sighed. “I know, but I was annoyed with him at the time. I've had a chance to calm down, and I have to admit that I really can't see him doing this kind of thing.”
    Max considered that. He had to allow for the possibility that she was right. Cleo could see into people the way he could see into paintings. He should know. She had looked into him and seen what he had wanted most in the world. And she had given it to him.
    A twinge went through his thigh. Max stirred, changing position slightly. The long drive from Seattle was taking its toll. He pushed the old, familiar ache to the back of his mind and concentrated on the problem at hand as he walked to the fountain.
    “If Spark is behind these incidents,” he said quietly, “I think we can squelch the problem fairly easily.”
    Everyone stared at him.
    “How?” Sylvia asked.
    “I'll call him tomorrow and arrange a meeting.” Max gazed into the turquoise blue fountain. “I'll tell him to forget the Luttrells. I'll also tell him that I want him to vanish.”
    O'Reilly eyed him in cool appraisal. “We're talking about a quarter of a million bucks here. What makes you think Spark will back out of the scene quietly when there's that kind of money involved?”
    “He'll go,” Max said.
    No one said a word. They all sat in tense silence, staring at him. Max felt their silent questions hammering at him, but he did not volunteer an explanation of just how he would get rid of Spark.
    “Okay,” O'Reilly finally said in a brisk, businesslike voice, “that takes care of the Spark angle. Which leaves us with a third possible