Unexpected Outcome

Women in New York had to be careful about things like that. Especially, he imagined, women as good-looking as Dana Mayfield. And she was an exceptionally good-looking woman.

He let his gaze linger on her photograph.

Her eyes were as blue as a country sky and her dark hair was cut in a short, no-nonsense style—although the shaggy way it fell onto her forehead was decidedly sexy. As were her smooth, full lips and cute little nose.

He stared at the monitor for a few more seconds, thinking that picture looked so lifelike he could practically smell the tantalizing scent of her perfume.

Strange how you never knew when someone would suddenly walk into your life and…

Of course, in this instance there wouldn’t be any “and.” The last thing he needed was a distraction.

But if the timing wasn’t so bad, and if she wasn’t a potential problem, he just might be interested in her.

Just might?

He almost smiled, silently admitting there wasn’t much question about it. If he hadn’t figured she was trouble, he’d probably have asked her to lunch about three seconds after she’d walked into the building.

He leaned back in his chair, thinking didn’t this just beat all.

From the first moment he’d heard the name Dana Mayfield, he’d been almost positive that Robert and Larry were blowing smoke. That the woman they were telling him about was actually a P.I. Or that they’d taken their suspicions to the police, in which case she’d be an undercover cop.

And jeez he’d been angry, figuring they were lying to him.

Now, though, he realized it had been wasted emotion. He’d obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Yet even with the proof of that right here in front of him, it was tough to believe. Because those two hiring a consultant was completely out of character.

Of course, if Martha Benzer had seriously gotten on their case about it…

But no. As big a pain as she could be, humoring her to this extent just didn’t sound like the Robert and Larry he knew. So if they were going to hire someone, why not a P.I.?

The idea that they’d convinced themselves an OD consultant might help them with a problem like theirs seemed so remote…

It simply didn’t add up.

He focused on Dana’s photograph again—and began hoping to hell she wouldn’t get in the way of what he was doing.

DANA HAD MOVED OUT of the house she’d grown up in and left Queens almost ten years ago. Yet every now and then, as she walked down the familiar street, she remembered how upset her parents had been at their “little girl’s” announcement that she’d found an apartment.

“Manhattan isn’t safe,” her mother had repeated at least a dozen times.

“For heaven’s sake, Mom,” she’d finally said. “I’m a cop.”

“I’m a cop, too, which is how we know it isn’t safe,” her father had muttered. “And you’re barely through the academy.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-two.”

In his eyes, though, she’d been his baby. She probably always would be. His only child. And they were so close that…

That half the reason she’d joined the police force had been to follow in his footsteps, to make him proud of her. And he had been, until…

She told herself not to go there. The past was past; that chapter in her life over and done with.

Yet she still wished, for his sake if for no other reason, that she hadn’t been forced to quit. Because even though he’d assured her a hundred times that he understood, she knew how badly she’d disappointed him.

She’d barely turned into the yard before he had the front door open and was heading down from the porch to greet her, saying, “Hey, my beautiful daughter’s here. It must be Sunday.”

“You think?” she said, stepping into his hug.

“Yeah, I think.”

“We’re in a rut, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s a nice rut.”

He draped his arm over her shoulders as they started for the house, pretending he wasn’t even marginally interested in what she’d brought by way of groceries.

He was, though.

Jack Morancy liked his food, but he was not a handy man in the kitchen. So for the three years since her mother’s death, most Sundays that he wasn’t on duty he’d either come to Dana’s apartment for dinner or she’d make the trip to Queens and they’d eat there.

Oh, sometimes he insisted on taking her out, but she really didn’t mind doing the cooking.

Cops were notorious for eating badly, and even though she knew one healthy meal a week couldn’t compensate for all the greasy fast food he had during his shifts, it couldn’t hurt. Besides, they enjoyed the time together.

“Some of this should go in the fridge,” she said once they were inside.

“Sure.”

He followed her to the kitchen, and as she dug the meat and low-cal sour cream out of the bag, asked, “So what happened in your world this week?”

“Well, I’ve got a new client. Or maybe I should say two. Business partners. I met with them on Friday and got going on some of the preliminary stuff yesterday.”

“Good. Interesting case?”

“It definitely has the potential. They figure someone’s sabotaging their company.”

“Yeah? What sort of company?”

“They import collectibles. Art, small antiques. High-quality things.”

“Oh? What’s it called?”

“Four Corners Imports.”

“Four corners of the world, huh? Good name. Big business?”

“Mmm…head office in New York and a few sales-people in L.A. But they outsource as much of the work as they can, so staff-wise they aren’t all that large.

“At any rate, one of the partners, Robert Haine, takes care of acquiring most of the items. Spends half his life traveling, I gather. The other one, Larry Benzer, handles the majority of the marketing.”

She closed the fridge door and turned to discover that her father was staring at her with a very strange expression.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

There was a second’s hesitation—or was she only imagining that?—before he said, “Nothing. I just… So you’ve got one of them acquiring, the other one marketing. And while they’re busy doing that who’s running the show?”

“Basically, Robert’s nephew. He’s their director of finance.”

“Ah. A little nepotism.”

“Well, I imagine that helped get him hired, but my read is that he’s good. And his area of responsibility seems to be a lot broader than his title suggests. He’s really more a director of operations.”

Her father nodded, then said, “So tell me about the sabotage.”

“You want to hear the details?”

“Sure.”

“Well…” She started to briefly fill him in on what Robert and Larry had told her, vaguely aware of feeling a touch uneasy.

Not that she was worried about confiding in him. Whenever she hit a snag she used him as a sounding board. And she knew anything she said would stay strictly between the two of them. But she’d suddenly gotten the sense he was a little too interested in this particular case.

She considered that for a moment, then decided the problem was more likely that she’d become overly suspicious. It routinely happened to cops and P.I.s.

Still, whether it was common or not, suspecting her own father wasn’t simply curious about her work… Lord, that had to be really paranoid.

Forcing away her concern, she continued her summary of what had been happening at Four Corners.

Jack listened in silence—until she got to the part about the two shipping containers that had gone astray. When she said that their contents had been worth half a million dollars, he gave a low whistle.

It made her smile. “I told you they deal in quality stuff. At any rate, I have a call in to the police detective who caught the case. But I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

She returned to the details, finishing up by saying, “Larry Benzer’s money is on one or more of the warehouse people. Because between the arson and those containers disappearing they’re such obvious possibilities.”

“The arson was definitely an inside job?”

“That’s what the fire marshal decided. According to his report there was no sign of forced entry. So someone apparently had a key.”

“Then you’re probably looking at either a current or ex-employee.”

“Exactly. And since all three of the full-time warehouse staff have been there for years, there’s no disgruntled ex running around. So current would be the likely bet. But Robert Haine isn’t convinced it was any of the warehouse guys.”

“Oh? What does he think?”

“That their theory about a plot to drive down the share price is right. And he says none of the warehouse fellows is sophisticated enough to mastermind anything like that.”

“Have they both ruled out the idea that a competitor might be behind things?”

“I don’t think so. At least not entirely. Someone could be paying off one of their employees. Or more than one. Or maybe both their theories are all wet.”

Her father nodded. “Sounds like a case that might take a while to get a good feel for.”

“That’s for sure. By the time they finished discussing everyone they thought the perp could be… Well, I was left thinking it might be almost anyone. I haven’t even ruled out Robert’s nephew.”

“The director of finance.”

She nodded.

“He a typical accountant type?”

When she couldn’t help smiling, her father said, “What’s that about?”

“Nothing, really. Just that he’s not exactly a typical accountant.”

Resisting the temptation to add that he wouldn’t be even if someone forced him to wear wire-rimmed glasses and a pocket protector, she merely waited—fully expecting another question about Noah Haine.

Her mother would certainly have asked one. Her father, however, got straight back to business, saying “What about those invoices that went missing? Any possibility of tying them to someone from the warehouse?”

“Surprisingly, yes. The best guess is that someone lifted them while they were waiting to go out in the mail. And on paydays, one or another of the warehouse fellows stops by to pick up their checks.

“So it’s conceivable one of them could have been responsible. Not likely, but conceivable.”

Jack Morancy was silent for a minute, then said, “You didn’t mention how these Four Corners people heard about you.”

“You mean you don’t think everyone’s heard I’m the best P.I. in New York?”

He grinned. “Of course. Dumb of me to ask.”

“Actually, someone on the force recommended me. But since Robert didn’t do the checking around himself, he didn’t know who.”

That seemed to bring the conversation to an end, so she opened the fridge again and took out a pitcher of lemonade, saying, “Want to sit on the porch for a while?”

“Sure,” her father told her. Then he smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile.

“Dad…is something bothering you?”

“Bothering me? No. Why?”

“I just thought…” She shrugged. “I guess I just thought wrong.”

She hadn’t, though. She was deep-down certain she hadn’t.

DANA AND JACK MORANCY weren’t quite finished dinner when her cell phone rang. Ted Tanaka, the NYPD detective investigating the container theft, was finally getting back to her.

As it turned out, the investigation had stalled and he couldn’t add much to what she already knew. But since she’d only given her father the bare bones of that—and since he sat watching her expectantly after she clicked off—she figured she’d better recap the conversation.

“He basically just repeated what Robert and Larry told me,” she began. “What I was telling you earlier.

“Four Corners had six containers coming in on a cargo ship. It was Friday, the ship was late arriving and Stu Refkin, the warehouse manager, had plans for right after work. So he took off before the crew unloaded the shipment and left his two men to deal with it.”

“By deal with it you mean…?”

“Move the containers from the pier into the warehouse.”

“That only takes two people?”

“Two people and a lift truck. Anyway, they did that, then locked up and went home. But according to them, there were just four containers.”

“Why wouldn’t they know there were supposed to be six?”

She shrugged. “Stu says he thinks he mentioned the number—that he meant to but isn’t entirely sure he did. They claim that, if so, they didn’t hear him. And the one who signed the ship’s delivery form barely looked at it. Didn’t check how many it specified.”

“Pretty sloppy.”

“Yes, but I guess it’s the sort of thing that becomes so routine…”

“Honey, nothing should ever be routine when you’re talking half a million bucks. I’m surprised that guy still has his job.”

“Well, the insurance company will pick up most of the loss. And I gather it was the first time anything like that ever happened.

“But I’m getting off track,” she continued. “The important thing is that the company’s men say there were only four containers while the ship’s captain swears his crew unloaded six.”

“So either he’s lying or the warehouse guys are,” her father said.

“Uh-huh. And the ship has a foreign registry and is long gone by now, which means Tanaka probably has all he’s going to get from that end.”

“This happened on a Friday,” Jack said slowly.

“Yes. Then, come Monday, Stu Refkin arrived at work and discovered…Well, he got on the phone to Larry Benzer and Larry called the police.”

Her father nodded. “In the meantime, if you assume all six containers were unloaded, the two warehouse guys would have had the entire weekend to dispose of them. And even a fence would have paid…

“But did this Tanaka tell you what he figures happened?”

“He thinks only four of them made it off the ship. A security guard patrols the piers, and moving containers out of the warehouse on a weekend would be unusual. So if he saw it happening he’d probably have questioned it. At the very least, he’d have made a note in his log.

“All in all, disposing of them would have been risky. So Tanaka’s best guess is that the ship’s captain intentionally shorted the delivery. But he also thinks the captain was in cahoots with someone at Four Corners.”

“Someone like…?”

“Take your pick. Stu Refkin checked out and left the others in charge. And he’d probably know if they don’t normally pay much attention when they sign receiving forms.”

“Yeah, so the ship could have been intentionally late, letting this Refkin remove himself from the picture and…”

“But he’s not our only contender. Tony Zicco, the guy who signed the delivery slip, hasn’t always been Mr. Straight-and-Narrow.

“He ran with a bad crowd as a kid and eventually did a stretch for a B and E. It was his parole officer who got him the job at Four Corners.”

“Now, that’s an interesting wrinkle.”

She nodded. “According to Robert, they’ve never had a single problem with Tony. But Larry figures… Well, I already told you what he thinks.”

“That there’s a rotten apple in the warehouse,” Jack said.

“At least one. Maybe two or three.”

“Yeah, they could all have been in on it. But, you know, something isn’t sitting right with me.”

“What?”

“It’s just too obvious. I mean both the arson and this pointing toward the same people seems like overkill.”

She nodded again, glad to hear her father’s line of reasoning coincided with hers. “And there’s another thing. They all offered to take lie detector tests.”

That made him grin. “Sounds as if they watch too many cop shows.”

“Maybe. But Tanaka arranged for it. And according to the tests, none of them had anything to do with either the arson or the theft of the containers.”

“’Course…those things can be beaten.”

“Uh-huh. So if it was only one of them involved, and he managed to do that…”

Jack nodded, then said, “I think you were right. This really could be an interesting case.”

CHAPTER THREE

FIRST THING Monday morning Dana was at Four Corners once more, ready to step into her role as Dana Mayfield.

After she’d spent a few minutes asking Robert last-minute questions, he said he’d show her to the office she’d be using. Surprisingly, he led her over to the short hallway near the top of the stairs.

When she told him she hadn’t expected to be on the “executive floor,” he smiled.

“You’ll have more privacy here,” he said.

She knew that had to be true. Tucked away and out of sight would perfectly describe the location.

“As you’ll see when you get the grand tour,” he continued, “our office area downstairs is basically open concept.”

“You’re saying it’s not quite ideal for someone doing undercover work.”

He smiled again. “Exactly. I didn’t think you’d want people looking over your shoulder.

“And these two offices are just sitting empty. Both Noah and our director of logistics, Chris Vidal, prefer to be on the main floor. They interact a lot with the rest of the staff, so being up here wouldn’t work as well.

“That, by the way,” he added, pointing toward a narrow back staircase, “will take you down to a hall that runs from the alley door to the main office area.”

The stairs, she saw, also led to the top floor. When she asked what was up there, Robert said, “It’s mostly dead storage. Filing cabinets full of old records and all sorts of other ghosts from the past thirty years.”

She resisted the impulse to say that, considering costs in Manhattan, it was an incredibly expensive storage area.

Then she had the disconcerting sense Robert had ESP as he said, “We’ve got more room than we really need.

“Initially, we figured we’d use that space for additional employees as the business grew. But modern technology exploded, the work world changed and we didn’t grow, people-wise, the way we’d anticipated.”

Opening the office door, he ushered her inside. “Helen put some supplies in the desk and had that computer moved in. If there’s anything else you need, just tell her.”

“Thanks, I will.”

She eyed the computer for a second, hoping it was loaded with software she knew, then turned her attention back to Robert.

He’d taken a couple of keys from his pocket and was saying, “These are for the door and the desk. And I should show you this.” He produced a sheet of paper and gave it to her along with the keys.

“After you left on Friday, I drafted a memo about you—made you sound as nonthreatening as I could.”

She began skimming it. Addressed to “All Staff,” it said that, in light of recent problems, he and Larry had hired an organizational design expert to look at the company’s operations with fresh eyes.

It went on to say that while her findings might result in a few modifications to current practices, no changes would be made without the direct involvement of any employees affected.

“That was a good idea,” she said once she’d finished reading. “People do tend to feel threatened by a stranger coming in and poking around.”

He nodded. “I’d like to know how much anxiety you think there actually is. As well as have you keep me up-to-date on your progress. So let’s set a regular time to touch base each day.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe late afternoon? Four-thirty or so? My office?”

“Fine.”

She’d assumed from the beginning that this was more his project than Larry’s, and by now she knew she was right. Which was perfectly okay.

She got positive vibes from him, but she couldn’t say the same about his partner.

In fact, on a couple of occasions during their meeting last week, she’d had the impression that Larry had only agreed to hire an investigator because Robert was pushing the idea.

“Is there anything else we should discuss before you get started?” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll ask Helen to have Noah come up.”

“Noah?”

“Uh-huh. Since we haven’t told him you’re really a P.I., there’s no risk of his blowing your cover. Whereas both Larry and I have been known to say things without thinking.

“Besides, the obvious person to introduce you around is the one in charge of day-to-day operations.”

“Ah. Good point.”

There was no arguing with Robert’s logic. But more than once over the weekend, a distracting image of Noah Haine had tiptoed through her mind. And she had a horrible suspicion that having the real thing at her side would prove a much bigger distraction than any image.

To stop herself from worrying about that, she sat down at the desk and jiggled the mouse, bringing the computer to life. Fortunately, it was loaded with Office—which was what she was used to.

She was just resisting the temptation to check whether Free Cell had been deleted when she heard footsteps in the hall. Her pulse began a funny little dance.

Firmly, she reminded herself she was an adult, not a teenager at the mercy of raging hormones. Despite that, all it took was Noah reaching her doorway and gracing her with one of his warm smiles to make her feel a distinct…

But it wasn’t a feeling that had anything to do with raging hormones. It was merely a fresh flicker of awareness that he was an attractive man. And she had no difficulty ignoring flickers.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same about those darned smiles. She’d have to work at developing an immunity to them. Starting now.

When he closed her door and lowered himself into a chair, an unsettling sense that he’d just assumed control seized her—despite the fact that she was the one on the business side of the desk.

Then he smiled again and said, “Before we get going, how about filling me in on how you’ll be approaching things. My uncle was pretty vague.”

“Well, that’s probably because I was pretty vague with him. OD isn’t an exact science—as I’m sure you know. But generally speaking, I’ll just start by getting people to talk about the company and their role in it. Then, depending on where that leads…”

Noah said nothing, simply sat watching her. She began to feel unsettled again.

He had a master’s degree in business. A genuine one, as opposed to the one that existed on her trumped-up credentials. And that meant he could easily be far more knowledgeable about OD than she was.

If she inadvertently said anything dumb, would he pick up on it? She certainly hoped not.

“In this instance,” she continued, telling herself she was doing fine thus far, “with Robert’s memo referring to the fact that there’ve been specific problems, people will be expecting me to ask about them. So I will.

“Actually, since two of the major ones happened at the warehouse, I’d like to begin by talking with the staff there.”

“You’re going to make them nervous,” he said quietly.

“I’ll do my best not to.”

THE FOUR CORNERS WAREHOUSE was only a few blocks from its head office, on one of the multitude of piers reaching out into the Hudson River.

Noah opened the door and ushered Dana inside, thinking—not for the first time—that the work crew the insurance company had sent in had done wonders.

“Seeing this place now,” he said, “you wouldn’t believe what a charred disaster it was after the fire. Just about everything being stored had suffered either smoke or water damage. And the air was so acrid you could feel it searing your lungs.”

She nodded. “I’ve been in burned-out buildings.”

“Oh?”

Wondering why she would have been, he waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t, merely glanced around, then said, “How soon after they had the fire out were you in here?”

“Well, it was out by about two in the morning. The fire marshal didn’t let me have a look until after dawn, though. And even then it barely qualified as a look because they had it taped off as a crime scene.”

“But you’re saying you were here most of the night?”

He nodded. “I came as soon as I heard we had trouble. One of the administrators is always on call, either Robert, Larry or me. And it was me that night.”