Grand Passion

position.”
    “No kidding?” O'Reilly said. “There've been some rumors, but I didn't believe them. Thought sure the Curzons would make you an offer you couldn't refuse after the old man died.”
    “I'm not open to offers from Curzon.” Max winced as he leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his leg and gazed out the window of his room. It occurred to him that he was starting to enjoy the view from the attic.
    “I can't say I'm totally surprised to hear that some other big chain got you. Was it Global Village Properties? They've been after you for a long time.”
    “I didn't go with Global Village or any of the other big chains.” Max tapped the pen idly against the pad of yellow paper sitting on the desk. The names of all the guests who had stayed at the inn that weekend were listed alphabetically on the first page of the pad. He had noted addresses and phone numbers beside each name.
    “Picked a small independent, huh?” O'Reilly sounded briefly thoughtful. “What's up? Looking for a challenge? Going to buy out a small operation and start your own hotel chain? I can see you doing that. You're the one person who could give the Curzons a run for their money. Should be fun to watch.”
    “It's just a small inn on the coast, and I don't have any plans to buy it out and turn it into a chain.”
    O'Reilly chuckled. “Come off it, Max, I can't see you running a folksy little bed-and-breakfast place on the coast.”
    “You don't understand. I'm not running the place at all. I'm working for the owner.”
    “Doing what?” O'Reilly demanded.
    “Odd jobs. Unclogging toilets, hauling firewood, tending bar. At the moment I'm trying to handle a small security problem,” Max said. “Do you think you can stop laughing long enough to check out that list of names I just gave you, or shall I call Brindle Investigations?”
    “Hey, no need to call the competition. I can handle this. Who do I bill?”
    “Send the bill to me.”
    “Something I don't understand here,” O'Reilly said. “You've already got the addresses for those people. What, exactly, do you want me to look for?”
    “I'm not sure.” Max scanned the page of names. “See if anyone on that list has connections with ultraconservative groups or off-the-wall religious organizations. You might also check on whether or not any of them have a record for getting arrested for making right-wing social protests or causing disturbances over First Amendment issues. That kind of thing.”
    “You think you're dealing with some morally outraged fanatic?”
    “It feels like that,” Max said. “My employer wrote a book that's just been published. I think what we've got here is a self-appointed censor who's decided to mete out his own brand of literary criticism to an author.”
    “Sounds like a guy who's got a couple of screws loose, is that it?”
    “Whoever he is, he's the type who would go out of his way to frighten an innocent writer.”
    “There's no shortage of people who feel called upon to censor what other people read, Max, you know that.”
    “I know, but I'm hoping that the number of people who would take the trouble to track down an anonymous author and leave weird warnings around will make a much shorter list.”
    “I'll see what I can do,” O'Reilly said. “I should have the info in a few days.”
    Max eyed the storm that was forming out over the sea. “There's one other name I want you to check out for me, while you're at it. I want to find a young man named Benjamin Atkins.”
    “Is he connected to your security problem?”
    “No, I don't think so. Separate issue. He's a former employee of the inn. Left in the middle of the night with no forwarding address.”
    “I get the picture. What did he take with him?”
    “It's not what he took, it's what he left behind,” Max said.
    “Okay, be cryptic. What do I care? Give me what you've got on Atkins.”
    Max read off the few meager facts Cleo had given him. Ben's young life was all too easily summarized. Parts of it reminded Max of his own past. At least he hadn't gotten a young woman pregnant when he was barely twenty-three, Max reflected. He'd always been very careful not to get any woman pregnant.
    That thought brought to mind a strangely tantalizing image of how Cleo would look ripe and round with his baby. A surge of possessiveness and wonder twisted Max's insides. His baby . It struck him that this was the first time he had actually thought about having a kid of his own.
    “I'll get