Three Fates

well . . . for a hissing viper.”
    “And you clean up decently for a second-rate tour guide with delusions of grandeur.”
    “Well, now that the pleasantries are over.” He took his seat, gestured so that the waiter poured the champagne waiting on ice. “It seems appropriate that we have this meeting in pleasant surroundings. No need for business dealings to be uncomfortable, after all.”
    “You didn’t bring your little tart.”
    He sampled the wine, approved it. “Which little tart would that be?”
    “Cleo Toliver. I’m surprised at you. I credited you with more taste than that. She’s nothing but a professional slut.”
    “Don’t be jealous, darling. In the slut department, she can’t hold a candle to you.”
    The waiter cleared his throat and continued to pretend he’d been born deaf. “Would you care to hear about this evening’s specials?”
    “Absolutely.” Malachi leaned back. He listened and, before the waiter could slip away to give them time to consider, ordered grandly for both of them.
    “You take a great deal for granted,” Anita said coldly, when they were alone again.
    “True enough.”
    “You broke into my house.”
    “Someone broke into your house?” He feigned surprise. “Well then, call the garda. I should say, police. And what, I wonder, would you tell them was taken?”
    While she steamed, he reached down and lifted an attaché case. “I thought you might like to see all the pretty silver ladies in a row.” He handed her a large color printout of a digital photo his sister had taken only hours before. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
    Rage wanted to choke her. Greed trembled straight down to her fingertips. “What do you want?”
    “Oh, a great many things. A long, healthy life; a fine, faithful dog. And an embarrassing amount of money. But we don’t want to discuss that on an empty stomach. I’ve individual photos, as well, for you to study. I want you to rest assured you’ll get what you pay for.”
    She studied each photo, and at every new angle she increased the pain level she’d make him suffer before she killed him. She laid the photographs in her lap when their appetizers were served. “How did you get into my house? Into my personal safe?”
    “You’re giving a lot of credit to a—what was it?—second-rate tour guide. And I must take exception to that estimation, Anita, as you’ve yet to take a Sullivan tour. We’re quite justifiably proud of our little family business.”
    Anita speared a sautéed mushroom. “Maybe I should have gone after your mother.”
    Though his blood ran cold, Malachi kept his calm. “She’d fry you up for breakfast, and serve the leftovers to the neighbor’s cat. But let’s not get personal. You were asking me a question. You want to know how it happened I recovered what it was you stole from me.”
    “I don’t believe you called the police either.”
    “I made it easy for you, no mistake there. Foolish of me, believing you to be a reputable businesswoman and handing the Fate over to you for, yes, testing and appraisal, it was. Lessons learned.” He sampled a bite of crab meat. “You judged that one correctly. How could I go to the authorities accusing the respected owner of the renowned Morningside Antiquities of stealing from a client? And stealing what, by all accounts, was at the bottom of the Atlantic?
    “And now,” he said, while the waiter moved in silently to top off their wineglasses, “it seems you’re in a similar fix. Tough to make a public complaint about losing what should never have been in your possession in the first place.”
    “You couldn’t have gotten in, not to Morningside or my house, without help.”
    “Puzzle that one out,” he said, “and you’ll know I’m not without friends. By the way, Cleo sends her regards. Her very low regards. Just think, if you’d paid her price, made a legitimate deal at that point, our positions might be reversed now.”
    He leaned closer, and all his fake humor was gone. “The man you had killed, Michael Hicks was his name, and his friends called him Mikey. She grieves for him. You’re fortunate, Anita, that I can convince her to deal with you now.”
    Anita nudged her appetizer aside, picked up her wine. “My employee, former employee, was under instructions to extract information. He got carried away. It’s hard to get competent help in some areas.”
    “And did you get carried away when you put the bullets into your former