Unexpected Outcome

“Is that unusual? Having an admin person on call in this type of business?”

He shrugged. “Every so often a problem comes up after hours. Five o’clock here is only two in L.A.

“Fortunately, though, our problems usually have to do with a missed delivery or that sort of thing. Not a fire.”

When she smiled, his heart gave a little thud against his ribs.

He warned himself to watch out.

Nothing had changed over the weekend. This still wasn’t a good time for him to get interested in a woman. Particularly not this woman.

“Who discovered the fire?” she was saying. “Not that it has anything to do with my job here, but you’ve got me curious.”

“Well, a security company patrols this pier and the ones closest to it.”

Her nod showed she’d already known that, making him think Robert and Larry must have done a thorough job of filling her in.

“Their guard called 911,” he continued. “Then, once the fire trucks were on their way, he contacted our answering service. And they phoned me.

“I got here not long after the firefighters. I just live over in Murray Hill.”

She started to ask another question, stopping as Stu Refkin appeared from behind a crate in the back.

He eyed them for a moment, then raked his fingers through his graying hair and started across the floor.

“This is our warehouse manager,” Noah said as he reached them. “Stu Refkin, Dana Mayfield.”

The man extended his hand, looking far from happy.

“We got the boss’s memo about you,” he said. “But I didn’t expect to see you so soon.

“No offense,” he quickly added.

She smiled. “None taken.”

“Good. Then let me go get my men. I know they’ll want to meet you.”

Noah didn’t buy that for a second. As he’d warned Dana earlier, she was going to make all three of these fellows nervous.

A couple of minutes passed before Stu arrived back with Tony Zicco and Paul Coulter in tow.

Tony had dark hair, Paul’s was a sandy color, but there were more similarities than differences in their appearances. Both were early forties, a shade under six feet tall, with muscular builds that indicated they did physically demanding work.

After going through introductions a second time, Noah made a bit of small talk. Then his cellular rang, giving him an excuse to leave the four of them on their own.

It was Helen calling, with a question that only took a minute to answer. But when he clicked off, rather than rejoining the others, he wandered over to the window beside the door and stood, ostensibly staring out at the murky water of the Hudson.

In reality, he was watching the little group’s reflection in the glass, absently adding up how many years—in total—the three men had worked at Four Corners.

Stu had been with the company since start-up, for the first ten years as one of the warehouse grunt men, for the past twenty as manager.

Tony and Paul hadn’t been around forever but both were long-term employees.

He’d had a careful look through their files after the container incident, so he knew Paul had been around for close to eighteen years. And Tony had come on board about three years later—almost straight out of prison.

But he’d always been a good employee. Surely he wouldn’t go bad again after so much time had passed.

Or would he?

Maybe he’d needed big money for some reason and…

Telling himself speculation about that sort of thing was a waste of time, Noah focused on the reflection once more.

All three men looked worried, but they’d be a lot more so if they’d overheard some of the discussions he’d had with Robert and Larry. If they knew Larry kept harping on the point that lie detector tests weren’t foolproof, and insisting at least one of the warehouse people had to be part of what he’d taken to calling “the conspiracy”…

However, surely anyone who gave his conclusion much thought would question it. Because none of these three seemed like the sort who’d get involved in a master plan to cause the company grief.

So wouldn’t most people figure Larry was probably wrong? That someone else had tried to burn the place down?

And even though Tony had made a major-league slipup when he’d signed for those containers, that was a far cry from conspiring with the ship’s captain to steal a couple of them.

Noah let his gaze drift to Dana’s reflection, wondering what impression she was forming of these guys. Did she think one of them could be…

Of course, Robert had said he’d underplayed the sabotage angle with her. That he’d merely mentioned they thought it was possible someone was intentionally causing their problems.

Still, it would have occurred to her that the arsonist might be an employee.

He watched her for a few more seconds. And even though looking at her told him nothing about what was going on in her head, it was plain to see that those smiles she kept flashing weren’t getting her anywhere. She was still making the men uneasy.

Not only that…

Studying her image in the glass, he silently admitted she was making him uneasy, as well. Because something about her didn’t ring true.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had that feeling, although the fact they were here in the warehouse accounted for part of it.

Based on what he knew about the way consultants worked, she should have had him introduce her to the office staff first. Made her way over here sometime after that.

So even though she’d given him a plausible reason for where she wanted to begin, the fact remained that she wasn’t behaving like a typical consultant.

And then there was her response when he’d asked her how she’d be proceeding.

She’d start by talking to people and see where it led. That was the extent of what she’d said—and it had set off a minor alarm in his brain.

People who specialized in organizational design, the ones he’d known in university, at least, were always more than eager to talk about the guiding principles they followed.

As Dana herself had said, OD wasn’t an exact science. Which seemed to make its practitioners feel they should work at convincing everyone they met that it deserved respect.

Not Dana, though.

He had the distinct feeling that the less she discussed the finer points of her profession the happier she’d be. Which had him thinking…

Regardless of her Web site, he was back to suspecting his uncle and Larry had lied to him, that she was either a cop or a P.I.

Maybe it wasn’t much more than a hunch, but he’d learned not to ignore his hunches. And if he was right about her, why were those two keeping him in the dark?

Only one obvious answer came to mind and he really didn’t like it.

Larry might keep talking about how he suspected the warehouse guys. But when he was alone with Robert he had to be suggesting Noah could be behind things.

The thought his uncle would even consider that was… Yet what other explanation made sense?

Hell, that was probably the real reason Robert had him playing tour guide for Dana. It would give her time with him. Time to figure out if he was the guilty one.

Gazing at her reflection again, he decided he had to establish whether she was a phony or not—and fast.

As the old saying went, forewarned was forearmed, and it had occurred to him, right off the bat, that she might get in the way of what he was doing.

Now he was thinking that, unless his hunch was wrong, there was little doubt she would.

Casually, he turned from the window and started toward the others.

When Dana noticed him coming, he said, “You’re going to be here for a while, so I’ll head back. Do some work until you need me again.”

“Well…fine.”

“My office is to the right of the front door. Just down the hall.”

“Fine,” she said again.

After nodding to the three men, he strode out of the warehouse and up the pier to West Street.

Ten minutes later he was at his computer, reading through those quotes from “clients” on Dana’s Web site and thinking it was strange that she wouldn’t have included the names of the client companies.

Or maybe it wasn’t strange. If they weren’t for real, they didn’t have names.

He reached for his phone and dialed the number on the screen, then listened to her voice telling him he’d reached the office of Dana Mayfield, organizational design consultant, and asking him to leave a message.

He hung up, not even marginally convinced his hunch was wrong, then went into a database that gave him the options of searching the city by either address, zip or phone number.

When he typed in her number, there was no hit. Yet it was obviously assigned, which meant she’d intentionally had it blocked.

A blocked business number? That made him even more suspicious. But how was he going to find out for sure if his suspicions were right? Follow her home?

No, that didn’t strike him as much of a plan. He’d be smarter to try charm. Befriend her. Get her talking about herself. Then catch her off guard.

Uh-huh, that was a far better idea.

Except that he was kind of rusty in the charm department. He’d been so busy around here lately that his social life was nothing but a faded memory.

Glancing at Dana’s photo once more, he told himself not to worry about the rust. Being charming to a woman who looked like her wouldn’t be tough. No matter how high the likelihood that she was a phony.

On the other hand, he’d never been a good actor. So if she was a detective…

Well, he’d just have to be careful. And hope for the best.

IT WAS QUARTER TO TWELVE before Dana got back from the warehouse, and she headed straight down the hall next to the front entrance.

The door of the first office along it was closed, but its nameplate told her it belonged to Chris Vidal, director of logistics.

Noah’s was the one farther along—the corner one—and he was at his desk. Seeing her, he shot her another of his devastating smiles.

It reminded her she’d decided to work on developing immunity to them. Although she might not work too hard.

After all, she didn’t have a rule about mixing pleasure with ex-business. So once her job here was through…

Telling herself to leave contemplating that until she was a lot closer to its being through—not to mention until she was absolutely certain Noah was one of the good guys—she said, “I just wanted to check that you’ll still be available later.”

“Sure. How did it go at the warehouse?”

“Not badly.”

“Good. Hey, it’s almost noon,” he added, glancing at his watch. “There’s a deli on Gansevoort that isn’t bad. Want to try it?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to write myself some notes about this morning. And if I don’t do it now I’ll forget half of what I heard.”

“I can wait a bit,” he said casually.

“Well…actually, I’m going to skip lunch.”

“Ah.” He hesitated, then said, “Dana, if I just gave you the impression that… I was only talking about lunch.

“No, wait, I think that came out wrong. I didn’t mean to sound as if I might not be interested in…”

He shook his head and grinned. “I should probably stop before I get in even deeper. But what I was trying to say is that I didn’t have a hidden agenda. I just figured you might like someone to eat with.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And you didn’t give me the wrong impression. I’d decided to skip lunch before you said a word. I ended up spending a lot more time with Stu Refkin than I’d expected.”

“Ah,” he said a second time. “Okay, then. I’ll be back by one, so whatever works after that…”

“Fine. See you later.”

Starting for the stairs, she felt as if a little candle were glowing inside her. When a man stumbled all over his words talking to a woman…

Of course, she’d already been pretty sure the attraction was mutual, but “certain” was better than “pretty sure.” Much better.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SECOND FLOOR SEEMED deserted when Dana reached it, which was just as well. She had a feeling that Helen Rupert was a chatty woman—nice, but chatty. And she really did have to get those notes written.

Whenever feasible, she avoided using tape recorders. They often made people reluctant to speak freely. But the downside to relying on her memory was how quickly things began slipping from her mind.

She reached her own office and opened the door, thinking she should tell someone that the lock wasn’t working. Then she stepped inside and her brain shifted gears.

On the surface of her desk, to the left of the computer, lay a white, letter-size envelope.

Two disposable latex gloves were precisely positioned next to it, one on either side.

Untouched by human hands? No fingerprints? Was that their message?

Odds were, she decided. And odds also were that whoever had left this for her was a tad on the weird side.

She picked up the envelope, opened its unsealed flap—absently thinking no fingerprints or traces of saliva—and removed the single sheet of paper. She silently read the computer-printed message.

I know who you really are. And I know who set the warehouse fire. It was Noah Haine.

Her mouth a little dry and her heartbeat a little fast, she sat down.

What the hell was this? A joke?

If so, it wasn’t a funny one.

And who had left it here, anyway?

She had no way of knowing, of course. Using the back stairs, anyone could have come up without being seen.

Or maybe one of those ghosts Robert had mentioned had snuck down from the third floor.

But where had that thought come from? Was her subconscious trying to creep her out?

Reminding herself she didn’t believe in ghosts, she gazed at the words again.

I know who you really are.

Okay. That could mean exactly what it said, or could merely mean that someone suspected she wasn’t an OD consultant.

And I know who set the warehouse fire.

Possibly. But if true, why hadn’t this person told the fire marshal? And why tell her?

It was Noah Haine. Noah Haine, the first Four Corners person on the scene after the fire.

But what about before it?

She exhaled slowly. If she was going to figure out any answers to her questions, she had to think calmly and logically.

The arson had been an inside job, the arsonist someone with a key to the warehouse.

Or someone with a master key, her internal voice of reason pointed out.

She’d asked Robert about master keys, so she knew a single one opened both this building’s doors and the warehouse’s. And the three people with masters were Robert, Larry and Noah.

Robert and Larry, who had hired a P.I. Noah, who’d had no part in the decision—who didn’t even know she was an investigator. But it was a huge leap from that to the possibility he was the arsonist.

The question of the moment was how huge?

He’d said he’d been home when the service called him. That, however, left some vital information missing.

How long between when the fire was started and when the security guard discovered it? How long after that before he called the service? Then before it called Noah?

More than enough time for him to get from the warehouse to Murray Hill, she’d bet.

Lord, when she’d told herself those missing invoices meant she couldn’t rule him out too fast she’d only been about three percent serious. Now, though…

Yet what did she really have?

She stared at the note again, aware it was most likely the work of…

Never mind someone a tad on the weird side, it could be the work of a total nutcase. Could have absolutely no basis in reality. Probably had absolutely no basis in reality.

But what if it did?

Doing her best to ignore the dull buzz that had started in her head, she began cobbling together some of the pieces that might be relevant.

If she assumed that the theory Robert favored was right, that the problems were all part of a plan to drive down the company’s share price, then whoever was behind it would have to be both smart and circumspect. Stock manipulation was illegal.

So who would know how to pull off that sort of thing with minimum risk of ending up in jail?

There was an only too obvious answer. The man who’d been brought into Four Corners specifically to help take it public—because he knew all the ins and outs of the Securities and Exchange Commission.

FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE Dana’s first scheduled “touching base” meeting with Robert Haine, she hit the print key on her computer.

While the notes she’d just finished were turning into hard copy, she dug her cellular from her briefcase and used it to check her Dana Morancy, P.I., voice mail.

Getting that note was going to make her even more careful than usual. And careful included not using a Four Corners phone to call her real self.

For all she knew, her note writer had a quick and easy way of checking the company’s phone records.

There were a few messages for her, all business related except for a friend suggesting they get tickets to a new off-Broadway show. None was from anyone in urgent need of an investigator.

That, however, was just as well.

She’d never been desperate for clients, not even in the beginning. But she was rarely awash with them. So she didn’t like having to turn any away. And if today was a good indicator, this job could take a while.

After making the one return call she couldn’t leave for later, she stuck the freshly printed notes, along with the ones she’d put together at lunchtime, into a file folder—thinking she’d better try to get Robert more interested in hearing about her morning than her afternoon. It was basically a blur.

As promised, Noah had introduced her to some of the head office employees. But she’d done a poor job of concentrating on what they’d said to her. Her attention had been constantly wandering.

Every few seconds she’d caught herself watching Noah out of the corner of her eye, as if she’d actually believed she might see something that would tell her whether or not he was the arsonist.

What had she figured? That he’d set a desk on fire?

Hardly a realistic scenario.

Shaking her head, she silently admitted her behavior this afternoon had not been rational. Especially not considering that by the time…

Well, the arson note had really gotten her mind spinning, and at first she’d been seriously wondering if Noah was the one.

But by the time he’d taken her around, she’d had long enough to have given the situation a lot more thought. And she’d reached the conclusion that, despite the things that seemingly pointed in the direction of his guilt, he really wasn’t a very likely suspect.

She absently tapped her finger against the folder, still convinced she’d ultimately arrived at the right conclusion.

After all, nobody with half a brain would give much credence to an anonymous note accompanied by a pair of latex gloves. So she’d be awfully naive to believe Noah was the arsonist just because the writer said so.

In addition, Noah was far from the only person in New York who could be working a stock manipulation scheme. For that matter, there might not even be one. Until someone proved it true, a theory was nothing more than a theory.

Then there was the fact that Noah was Robert’s nephew. Plus, he had a terrific job here and…

But what if he wanted more than that? What if he wanted to make a truckload of easy money? Retire to some tropical island by the time he hit forty.

No. She sincerely didn’t think that was the case. She was a good judge of character and she simply couldn’t see…Of course, she barely knew him. And her judgment wasn’t infallible.

She mentally shook her head, aware she’d feel far better if she was certain he couldn’t have started that fire.

Conceivably, though, he could have. “Home alone” wasn’t much of an alibi.

Of course, maybe he hadn’t been alone. There might have been someone with him.

A woman.

As those words whispered in her mind she felt a twinge of… She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but if anyone had been with him that would be good. Then she could be certain he was innocent. So it was too bad that just coming straight out and asking him wasn’t an option.

But he’d know that real OD consultants didn’t try to identify arsonists on the side, and she didn’t want to blow her cover—the way she’d almost done this morning.

After she’d said she’d been in burned-out buildings he’d clearly been curious about the circumstances. And if she hadn’t caught herself before saying it was back when she’d been on the job…

Well, actually, avoiding telling people she was an ex-cop was more a habit than a question of catching herself.

Oh, she routinely told prospective clients. She figured it gave her more credibility. But when it came to other people she tended to keep quiet.

Too often, if she didn’t, it led to questions about why she’d left the force. And in this case, it would really have led to questions.

Noah would have thought that cop to OD consultant was a very strange career path.

Telling herself to stop thinking about Noah Haine, she rose and picked up the file folder. Then she double-checked that the desk drawers were locked.

Until she decided what, if anything, to do about the arson note, she didn’t want anyone seeing it. And nobody would with it hidden at the bottom of her briefcase and locked up tight.

WHEN DANA PAUSED in Robert’s office doorway, he rose from his desk and motioned her toward the conversation area in the corner, saying, “How did your day go?”

She manufactured a smile. “If you mean have I figured out who your saboteur is, the answer’s no.”

He laughed. “But you have narrowed it down to just a couple of suspects, right? So by this time tomorrow…”

“Don’t I wish. I haven’t even met half your staff yet. I basically spent the morning at the warehouse. And this afternoon Noah introduced me to some of the people here, but I reached the limit of what I could absorb pretty fast.”

“Let’s hear about the morning, then.”

Good. They were where she wanted to be, topic-wise.

“Well,” she began, “I talked with all three men for a bit, and made a point of mentioning that I’ll be chatting with every employee in the company. So they know they’re not being singled out. Then I sat down with Stu Refkin and suggested he tell me about a typical day.

“Rather than do that, though, he cut straight to the chase and said he assumed I knew about the arson and the lost containers. Then we went from there.”

“I’m not surprised,” Robert told her. “Stu’s always direct.”

She smiled again—more genuinely this time. Robert had a knack for putting people at ease.

“He couldn’t have been more direct,” she said. “He began by saying that neither he nor his men have a clue who set the fire. As for the containers, he admitted there’s no excuse for what happened. Said Tony should have checked the number unloaded against the delivery form. Period.

“I don’t mean Stu was trying to distance himself from the blame,” she continued. “Actually, it was quite the opposite.

“He said there’d have been no problem if he’d waited around until the ship arrived. And that he would have if he hadn’t had plans.”

“Right. He’s been saying that from the beginning. In fact, none of them has changed his story in the slightest. Whether they’ve been talking to me, the police, the insurance adjuster…”

“I should ask about something,” Dana said when he paused.

He waited.

“You said ‘whether they’ve been talking to you.’”

“Uh-huh?”

“Did they talk to Larry and Noah, too?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I was the one who went over what happened with them.”

“But why would it have been you rather than Noah? I mean, if he’s in charge of the day-to-day operations…”