Sweet Fortune

Mercedes. Be reasonable. In this day and age you can't just go around confronting criminals. It's very dangerous. He might have had a gun.” She paused. “Or a knife. Like last time.”
    Hatch went very still. “What are you talking about?”
    She hesitated. “I'm not sure if I should say this or not because it will only upset, you're liable to start lecturing me again and I don't want you ruining everything, if you see what I mean.”
    Hatch came up out of the chair, took one step over to the bed, reached down, and hauled her to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “Well…”
    “Dammit, Jessie.”
    “Okay, okay, I'll tell you, but you mustn't get too concerned, because I'm probably wrong.”
    “Wrong about what?” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.
    “About the fact that the guy you just chased off in the parking lot reminded me a bit of the one who broke into Mrs. V's offices and tried to steal Alex's computer equipment.”
    Hatch felt himself go cold. “Christ. Are you sure?”
    She shook her head quickly. “No, how could I be certain? The man was wearing a stocking mask each time, remember? But there was something about his build. Slight. Wiry. I don't know, Hatch. It was just a feeling. Sort of like the one that made me get out of bed and look out the window in the first place.”
    “That settles it.” Hatch released her and went across the room to check the lock on the door.
    “Settles what?”
    “You're through playing big-time psychic investigator. This case of yours is developing too many angles and I don't like any of them. I'm declaring it closed, as of now.”
    Her mouth dropped open in shock. And then outrage kindled in her eyes. “You can't do that. This is my case. I've got a client. And I've got all sorts of new leads to follow. I'm not about to stop my investigation on your orders.”
    “Look, Jessie, this is no longer a game, understand? I was willing to indulge you for a while because it all seemed relatively safe.”
    “Indulge me? Is that how you saw it?” She stared at him in gathering fury. “Thanks a lot, Sam Hatchard. I had a hunch that was your attitude but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt after you found that computer-printout page for me. You had me almost convinced you were taking my new job seriously, that you were actually interested in my project.”
    “I am taking it seriously. That's why I'm calling a halt to it.”
    “You can't stop me from continuing this investigation.”
    He exhaled heavily and absently rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to think of a better way to deal with her anger. “Be reasonable, Jessie. You know for certain now that you're not dealing with a fake psychic. Edwin Bright is most likely running some kind of scam, from the looks of things. But he's not seducing his followers by pretending he has psychic abilities. Report that to Mrs. Attwood and you'll have done your job. She needs a real private investigator if she wants to carry this any further.”
    “At dinner you implied you were willing to help me finish this investigation,” Jessie reminded him through clenched teeth.
    “Yeah, well, that was when I thought we could play with it a bit longer and keep you happy. But the possibility that some guy is following you around means the fun and games are over.”
    “Dammit, Hatch, we don't know it was the same man. In all likelihood it wasn't. I knew I shouldn't have said anything.”
    “Well, you did, so that's that.”
    “I will not tolerate this condescending attitude toward my new career.”
    That remark inflamed him further. “I'm not being condescending, I'm being careful. Someone's got to exercise a little common sense around here, and it sure doesn't look like you're going to be the one to do it, does it?”
    “If that's the way you're going to be, you're off the case.”
    He lifted his eyes briefly toward the ceiling in silent supplication. “Case? What case? This isn't a case , it's another calculated effort by you to drive some poor innocent employer crazy. Mrs. Valentine has my sincerest sympathy. I know just how she's going to feel when she finds out what's happening.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Damn right. She's going to realize she's got a loose cannon on board, just like every other one of your past employers has eventually been forced to realize. Come to think of it, this proves she's a fraud herself. If