Wild Action

“Great. That would be terrific.”

He waited for what seemed like forever—imagining how happy this call was going to make his long-distance carrier—until a different woman came on the line and introduced herself as Linda Weaver, one of Brown’s associates.

“I’ve pulled Bill’s file on Mr. Montgomery,” she said, “and I’ll try to answer your questions. What would you like to know?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding mercenary, is there even a ballpark figure on the value of the estate?” He waited again, this time listening to the soft rustle of shuffling papers.

“Not that I can see,” she said at last. “Bill would probably have a pretty good idea, but I’m new to the firm. I don’t know much about any of his clients.”

“So…for all you know the property could be a marsh.”.

That elicited a laugh. “I wouldn’t think so. There’s a house on it. That’s where your uncle lived. And let’s see…It’s a hundred acres in all, about an hour’s—maybe an hour and a half’s—drive from Toronto.”

Nick could feel his excitement growing. Even if it wasn’t much of a house, a hundred acres near Toronto had to be worth something.

On the other hand, what if the company was in the red? Was that where the joke came in? Was he liable for a stack of debts?

“And what about this Wild Action?” he asked. “Is it a money loser?”

Linda rustled some more papers, then said, “No, the financial statement shows it as profitable—with revenues of more than a million dollars last year.”

A sudden buzzing in Nick’s head made him afraid he’d misheard. “More than a million?” he repeated.

“Uh-huh, a million and ninety-one thousand, to be exact.”

Dollar signs began floating in front of his eyes. That was definitely a go out and celebrate with champagne kind of number. But what sort of business were they talking about?

When he asked, Linda said, ’I’m not sure. It’s a private company, so there’s no annual report. But the name sounds awfully familiar. Just hold on a second. I’ll ask someone else.”

Nick heard her putting down the receiver. Then there was a murmur of female voices in the background. Eventually, Linda came back on the line, saying, “We’re pretty sure it’s a brand of casual wear. You know? Something like Northern Adventure or Rough and Ready?”

After profusely thanking the lawyer for her help, Nick hung up, his. mind reeling. He told himself to calm down, that he didn’t really believe in omens any more than he believed in superstitions. But wouldn’t anyone take this as a sign from the gods?

For the past year or so, he’d been running on empty. He’d joined the force when he was only twenty, and after fourteen years he’d seen enough of the seamy side of life to last the rest of his days. On top of which, the bureaucracy on the job was getting more and more intolerable.

He wanted out, wanted to get a private investigator’s license and set up his own agency—the sooner the better. Some days, it was all he could do to keep from walking into the staff sergeant’s office and quitting.

But he’d been holding himself back because he hadn’t managed to save anywhere near enough money. Now, the money was magically there. Or would be, as soon as he sold that business and the land.

For a minute, he sat mentally reviewing his caseload. There were no serious loose ends that demanded that he tie them up personally, which meant nobody would really care if he left on short notice. So that was what he was going to do. The idea felt right, and he’d never been a man to delay acting once his mind was made up.

Reaching for the phone again, he pressed redial. This time, he made an appointment to see William Brown at two o’clock the next day.

After that, he booked an obscenely early morning flight to Toronto—with an open return date. He had no idea how long transferring legal ownership would take. Plus, he’d need a day or two to get the business and property listed for sale.

Finally, charged with exhilaration, he left for head-quarters to turn in his badge.

AS THE ELEVATOR CARRIED him up to the law offices of Evans, Broderick and Rowan, Nick was still trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had been nagging him since yesterday.

An hour or two after he’d walked out of headquarters, he’d realized he should have asked Linda Weaver about Wild Action’s profits, as opposed to revenues, before he’d gone ahead and quit. After all, aside from his meager savings, those profits were all he’d have to live on until he got things sold.

But his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders during their conversation—partly because he’d been dead on his feet and partly because her revenue figure had pretty much stopped him cold.

The elevator slowed to a halt and its door slid open. Telling himself yet again that any company earning more than a million dollars a year had to be making substantial profits, he strode across the waiting area to the receptionist.

“Mr. Montgomery to see Mr. Brown.”

She gestured toward a hall. “Straight along there. It’s the last door on the left.”

“Would you mind if I left my suitcase out here?”

“Not at all.”

Parking it near her desk, he straightened his tie and headed down the hall.

To his surprise, when Brown’s secretary ushered him into the inner office, there were three people waiting for him—two middle-aged men and a great-looking woman who couldn’t be more than thirty.

“Mr. Montgomery, I’m Bill Brown.” The man behind the desk rose. “Okay if I call you Nick?”

“Sure.”

“I’d have known you anywhere,” Brown added as they shook hands. “You bear a strong resemblance to your uncle.”

Nick simply nodded. His parents had told him that years ago, and right now he was more interested in hearing who the two in the visitors’ chairs were. The man might be a lawyer, an associate of Brown’s, but the woman wasn’t.

She was wearing a casual dress, minimal makeup, and her dark hair was hanging loosely down her back. She definitely wasn’t a big-city professional. So who was she and why was she here?

When no logical answer came to mind, his anxiety level began edging upward.

“I’d like you to meet Carly Dumont and Roger Harris,” Brown said.

Nick nodded an acknowledgment, then looked at Brown once more.

“Please have a seat, Nick.”

Casually shifting the remaining visitor’s chair so he’d be able to keep an eye on everyone, he sat.

“We were just talking about your being a police detective,” Harris said. “It must be interesting work.”

“Some days yes, some days no.” Nick left it at that. There was no reason to update total strangers on his job status. Not when he’d rather find Out what was going on here.

“Carly worked for your uncle,” Brown offered. “She was his right hand at Wild Action. Roger is her lawyer.”

“And her friend, I like to think,” Roger Harris added. “Just as I was Gus’s.”

Ignoring Harris, Nick focused on Carly Dumont, anger starting to simmer inside him. His brain was working just fine today, and he didn’t need any more clues to figure out exactly what the story was. This woman intended to contest Gus’s will.

He glanced at Brown again, wondering if she had a legal leg to stand on. But he’d be damned if he’d ask with her sitting there listening.