The Target

who raised a black eyebrow.

    "Your father's wife, dear. Eve. There was an excellent photo of her in Time magazine, just after your father was shot that first time. Didn't you know, dear? She's Rule Shaker's eldest daughter."

34

    MOLLY WALKED INTO her father's magnificent study and quietly closed the huge double doors behind her.

    Her father rose slowly from his desk, raised an eyebrow, and said, "What is it, Molly? I wasn't expecting you. Is everything all right?"

    He was dressed immaculately. Very few people who knew him would realize that he was thinner, that the flesh on his face was drawn more tautly, that his color wasn't exactly right, that, actually, he should still be in bed recovering from a gunshot wound to his chest. She smiled at him. "Oh, yes, we're all just fine. You're looking well. Miles said you've been up three hours today. He's worried, you know. He thinks you're overdoing it too quickly. He also said you ate a big piece of chocolate cake last night."

    "Yes. There was some of Miles's homemade vanilla ice cream on top. I was growing mold in that bed. I'm fine. Where is Ramsey?"

    "Both Ramsey and Emma are with Miles. I do believe Gunther is hovering, eating some of Miles's chocolate-chip cookies himself." She paused a moment, smiled at him, and said, "Actually, I wanted to see you by myself."

    "What's this all about? Why are you here?"

    The slant of his eyebrows, she thought, was identical to her own. She wondered that she'd never noticed that before. She'd have to ask Ramsey if he saw the similarity. "As a matter of fact," she said, "I'm here to do you a very big favor." He frowned at that, just as she'd expected, since it was something he couldn't imagine. He waved her to a huge leather chair. "It's my favorite chair," he said, "but right now I can't sit in it. It's too difficult to get back out of it."

    "Sort of like a pregnant woman."

    "I doubt it. Now, what is this favor, Molly?" When she didn't answer immediately, he glanced at a paper he'd been reading, ignoring her. She'd seen him do this before. It really rattled a person wanting his attention. Odd how she saw and understood it, and was only tempted to tell him that he was a fine actor.

    She let him scan a full page, then said finally, "Mother told me all about you and Rule Shaker, that you were best friends for so many years, your two families close. She told me how you blamed her as well as Rule Shaker when you came in on them."

    His head came up with a snap. "I'll just bet she told you how innocent she was, that Rule was trying to rape her."

    "Yes, that's what she said. She said she didn't really like him, that he was crude, that she loved you, but of course, you blamed her as well as him. You threw her out. You kept my brother and I went with her to Italy."

    He shrugged and winced a bit with pain. "It was a very long time ago. I can't imagine why she chose to tell you now. As for Rule Shaker, I've dealt with him over the years without much problem. Perhaps not as well as I'd like recently," he added, frowning down at a letter opener that looked as sharp as a stiletto. He looked up at her. "Actually, he's taken more business than I'd have liked over the past couple of years, but it's a temporary thing. He's become a thug, nothing more. He's always been jealous of me and what's mine. He had bad teeth when we were young. I'll bet he's got false teeth by now." He paused a moment, a frown settling on his forehead, looking beyond her, into the past, perhaps.

    "I accepted him, made him my friend," he continued after a moment. "I can't believe I didn't see him clearly until I happened to walk in on him and your mother.

    "He's tried to kill me, twice. I'm going to have to deal with him once and for all. I don't like having to constantly look over my shoulder. Gunther worries. He isn't happy about any of this either."

    "Rule Shaker didn't try to kill you."

    Her father looked at her with amazed contempt. "What did you say?"

    "No," she said, very slowly, as if she were speaking to a dim child. "He didn't ever try to kill you. Actually, it was your wife."

    Her father bounded to his feet, his face paling, then weaved where he stood. She saw waves of pain washing over him, started to go to him, then stopped, realizing that he hated anyone, particularly her, to see any weakness in him. He chopped his hand in the air, waving her back. "Eve? You're saying that Eve tried to kill me? You're trying to blame Eve? That's absurd, Molly,