Hidden Talents

who could have had the pictures.”
    “All right, so the blackmailer somehow got hold of the photos and posed as Ambrose. Franklin never actually met him in person, remember? He wouldn't have recognized Asterley even if he had.” Caleb thought about it. “We're talking about a man, though. We know that much. Franklin said it was a man's voice on the phone.”
    “I'm not sure about that. Some women have deep voices.”
    “Jessie, for instance.”
    Serenity shook her head quickly. “No, I just can't believe she would do something like that.”
    Caleb's brows rose. “Face it, Serenity, you aren't going to be able to believe that any of your friends here in Witt's End are guilty.”
    “True.”
    “Jessie knew Asterley better than anyone, according to you and everyone else around here. He left everything to her. As his only close friend and heir, she had access to his files before and after his death.”
    “I just can't imagine Jessie resorting to blackmail. She's one of the few people in Witt's End who makes a decent living from her art.”
    “If Asterley sold the first set of pictures for cash for photo equipment, he might have confided in Jessie.” Caleb said. “After he died, she may have seen the potential of the situation and decided to pick up where he had left off.”
    “ No .”
    Caleb looked at her. “Then you think of someone else here in Witt's End who meets the criteria. Who else would have had access to both the pictures of you and the information about my past?”
    Serenity's eyes were very steady. “Why does it have to be someone here in Witt's End?”
    The question rendered Caleb momentarily silent. “Because it all started here in Witt's End,” he said finally. “The logic is inescapable. It began when Asterley sent you to hire me as a consultant.”
    “That doesn't mean it emanated from Witt's End,” she insisted.
    “It's the only reasonable explanation.” He switched his gaze to the jewelry box. “For some reason, I keep thinking there's an answer here somewhere. It always comes back to this.”
    “The jewelry box?”
    “It's all I've got of hers.” Caleb reached slowly into the box and pulled out the stack of tattered clippings. “Maybe there's something in these. A name. Another direction we can try.”
    “I'll take half and you take the other half.” Serenity removed a portion of the clippings from his hand. “We'll compile a list of every name that cropped up in the old scandal. Who knows? Maybe something will ring a bell with one of us.”
    “All right.” Caleb got up to hunt for a pen and a pad of paper. When he found them, he put them down on the coffee table. Then he went into the kitchen and poured two small glasses of brandy.
    He didn't know about Serenity, but he had a feeling he was going to need a little fortification for what lay ahead.

    Half an hour later the list was finished. It wasn't a long one and most of the names on it were familiar to Caleb. They included those of his own family; Gordon's wife, Patricia; a handful of people from Ventress Valley; and one or two minor political figures who had been important at the time but who had long since died.
    Serenity studied the list. “Everyone on this list would have known about your past, but there's no one on here who could have known about me and the photos that Ambrose took.”
    “We can't be certain. I'll have to hire a private detective to check out some of these names,” Caleb said.
    Serenity looked up uneasily. “If you send an investigator into Ventress Valley to ask questions about the old scandal, you're really going to cause a commotion.”
    “Do you think I give a damn?” Caleb frowned at the torn satin that lined the lid of the jewelry box. “All I care about now are answers. I'm going to get them.”
    “I understand,” Serenity said softly. “I just wish there was some other way to go about it. There's been so much damage done already.”
    “You know, there's something strange about this thing.” Caleb picked up the jewelry box. “I'm going to tear it apart.”
    “I can see that. You know something, Caleb? I think blood does tell. Once you start down a certain path, you're every bit as stubborn as your grandfather.”
    He glanced at her. “I'm not talking about tearing apart the past, I mean this jewelry box.”
    “The jewelry box?”
    “There's something odd about the way the lining is torn. It's too neat. As if it were sliced with a razor or a knife. The other holes are