Three Fates

complicated, as I said—”
    “Oh Christ, he’s married.”
    “No. No, nothing like that. It’s a project we’re working on.”
    “Tia, just let me get this out of the way. Is he asking you for money, for an investment of any kind?”
    “No, Carrie. But thanks for worrying.”
    “You’re in love with him.”
    “Probably.” She took a deep breath as her stomach fluttered. “I’ll think about that later. Right now I’m in the middle of something that’s exciting, sensitive and very likely dangerous.”
    “Now you’re scaring me, Tia.”
    “I mean to.” She thought of Cleo’s friend. “Because it’s vital you don’t tell anyone what I’ve said to you. You don’t mention Malachi’s name.” She reached in her purse and took out a slip of paper. “If you call me about anything that has to do with this discussion, use this number. My phones are tapped.”
    “For God’s sake, Tia, what’s this guy dragged you into?”
    “I dragged myself. That’s the wonder of it. And I need you to do me a favor that might be somewhat unethical. It could be illegal, I’m not sure.”
    “I can’t even think of a response to that.”
    “Anita Gaye.” Tia leaned forward. “Morningside Antiquities. I need to know how much she’s worth, personally and with the business. I need to know how much liquid cash she can get her hands on, quickly. And she can’t know you’re looking. That’s essential. Is there a way to get the information without it coming back to you?”
    As if to anchor herself, Carrie braced her hands on the arms of her chair. “You want me to look into someone’s financials and pass that data on to you?”
    “I do, but only if you can do it without anyone knowing you’re involved.”
    “You’re not going to tell me why?”
    “I’m going to tell you there’s a great deal at stake, and I’m going to use the information you give me to try to do something important. And right. I’m also going to tell you that Anita Gaye is dangerous, and likely responsible for at least one death.”
    “Holy God, Tia. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Not with you. If you believe this about her, why aren’t you talking to the police?”
    “It’s complicated.”
    “I want to meet this Sullivan character. Judge for myself.”
    “As soon as I can manage it. I promise. I know what I’m asking you, and if you can’t do it, I’ll understand.”
    “I need to think about it.” Carrie let out a long breath. “I need to really think about it.”
    “Okay. Use the number I gave you when you call.” Tia got to her feet. “She’s hurt people, Carrie. I’m going to see she pays for it.”
    “Damn it, Tia, you be careful.”
    “No,” she stated as she walked to the door. “Not anymore.”
     
     
    “GIVE HER A few more minutes,” Gideon urged. “What good will it do for you to go running around the city looking for her?”
    “She’s been gone over two hours.” For more than half that time, Malachi had been sick with worry. “I should never have let her go out alone. How did the woman get so hard-headed so fast? When I met her she was pliable as putty.”
    “You want a doormat, go buy one.”
    Malachi spun around, burned Cleo with one hot look. “Don’t piss me off.”
    “Well, stop pacing around like an overprotective daddy whose little girl is past curfew. Tia’s not stupid. She’ll handle herself.”
    “I never said she was stupid, but as for handling herself, she’s no experience doing that, has she? If she’d answer her bloody mobile, I wouldn’t have to pace.”
    “We agreed not to use the mobile except for emergencies,” Gideon reminded him. “They’re like radios, aren’t they?”
    “This is a fucking emergency. I’m going to find her.” He strode to the door, wrenched it open. Tia all but spilled into his arms.
    “Where have you been? Are you all right?” He nearly lifted her and the bags she carried off the ground.
    “Worrywart here was about to call out the Marines. Is that food?” Cleo demanded, and strolled over to snag one of the bags. “Hot damn! Lunch.”
    “I stopped at the deli,” Tia began.
    “I’m not having it. I’m just not having it.” Malachi pulled the other bag out of her hands and shoved it at Gideon. “How much money have you got?” he asked his brother.
    “About twenty American.”
    “Let’s have it.” Malachi dug into his own pocket. “We’re not living off you this way, like a bunch of