Close To The Edge

“Honestly, Jacinda,” Suzanne was saying, “I’m so envious of you with your exciting career. Is it very dangerous?”

That question was difficult to answer, Jacey thought, knowing that Suzanne’s idea of danger was hiring a new caterer.

“I’m careful,” she said, “and most of my work is routine. Missing persons, serving summonses, theft detection.” She was careful to remain vague. Although most of her cases were just that unexceptional, all she needed was for her mother to get wind of details such as her experience earlier today. She’d learned long ago that skirmishes with Charlotte were safer when she didn’t provide her with ammunition.

“Well,” Suzanne tossed her artfully styled curls, “I just think you’re the bravest thing. Bitsy didn’t think you’d show up here tonight, but I said that very thing, I said, well of course she will, Jacinda is just so brave.” She nodded vigorously.

The sensation was back, as if eyes were boring into her. “Well, that’s nice,” Jacey said inanely, scanning the crowd over the other woman’s shoulder. She found the source of the feeling standing across the room at the balcony doors. The man was instantly recognizable, with his mane of silver hair and neat mustache. J. Walter Garvey, a local shipping magnate, gave her a nod when their gazes met and then, with a slight inclination of his head toward the doors, he went outside.

Suzanne’s voice bubbled around her, but it might as well have been the drone of bees. Jacey looked around, trying and failing to see anyone else that the man might have been gesturing to. Curiosity, the bane of her existence, surged. More than half convinced she was going to make a fool of herself, she excused herself from her friend and made her way toward the half-open balcony door.

She found the older man leaning against the railing, smoking a thin cigar. The rain had stopped, but the early-fall air was still heavy with moisture. Jacey stepped outside and then hesitated, once again questioning her action. The Garvey family was reputed to be among the wealthiest in the city, due in no small part to the solitary man on the balcony. And although she knew him to speak to, having met him at various functions much like this one, she could think of no reason for him to seek her out.

“Close the door behind you and come here.” The man’s voice sounded a trifle testy. “There’s no telling how long I can dodge that throng inside. There’s always a few who’ll use an event like this one to try to hit me up about a new business venture.”

Jacey strolled over to his side, immediately wishing for a coat. She hadn’t thought to bring a wrap when she’d tossed some things into the car to change into after work. “Mr. Garvey.” She joined him at the railing, felt her skin dewed by the thick moisture in the air. “How have you been?”

“Not worth a damn.”

She smiled a little. She’d always appreciated his tendency to speak his mind. Her smile faded when, in the next instant he added, “I’m dying.”

Her face jerked to his, saw the truth of his words written there. “I’m sorry.” The words were simple, heartfelt.

He waved them away. “Cancer. Nothing to be done about it, and I’d appreciate you keeping this to yourself. Haven’t even told my family. I never could stand people blathering over me.”

No, pity wouldn’t be something this man would suffer easily. Even knowing as little as she did about him, Jacey recognized that. Rather than giving him any, she matched his matter-of-fact tone with one of her own. “What can I do?”

“I’m looking for someone to conduct research for me. I’ve considered several local investigative agencies, but think you might be better suited than most to fill this assignment.”

A quiet hum of pleasure filled her at his words, followed by a leap of interest. This was what she needed, this constant challenge of matching her wits to solve puzzles, work out problems. She liked to think she was good at it, too. “I’m glad to hear that.”

In the next moment he slipped out of his suit jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The old-fashioned courtliness of the gesture was at odds with his reputation for ruthlessness, both in business and with his family. “I’ve built Garvey Enterprises into a heavily diversified global operation. Started at a time when the business was more like bare-knuckled fighting than endless bickering in corporate boardrooms.” From his tone, it was easy to tell he much preferred the former. “I can’t take it with me when I die, and I don’t mind telling you, that fact irritates the hell out of me.”

She smiled, surveying him in the dim spill of light afforded through the closed balcony doors. “Who will step into your shoes when you’re gone?”

He gave a short nod of approval, drew on his cigar again. “You’ve cut to the heart of the matter. I’d heard you were quick. The fact is, Miss Wheeler, I don’t know the answer to that question. That’s where you come in.”

Brows skimming upward, she asked, “You want me to tell you who to leave your business to?”

“Few men are fortunate in both business and family. Or maybe I just failed with mine.” He gave a shrug that seemed more impatient than regretful. “My children were overindulged when they were young, and they haven’t improved with age. Rupert, my son, is a skirt-chasing spendthrift, and my daughter, Lianna, is a pea-brained socialite with the morals of an alley cat. Their offspring don’t look any more promising, but they’re all I’ve got to work with. I need you to find out more about them, their strengths, if they have any, as well as any weaknesses. If there’s one in the lot who’s worthy, there will still be a Garvey at the helm of the business, at least for another generation. If I decide, based on the information you find for me, that they’re all as useless as their parents…” He inhaled, then blew a perfect smoke ring. “Well, then the business will be completely incorporated, with each of the family members getting a small share, and no real power in the way it’s run.”

She studied the man, fascinated by the scene he’d detailed for her. “It must be difficult to contemplate your company in the hands of strangers.”

“Not as difficult as thinking of it in the hands of an incompetent, family or not.”

Jacey could appreciate the sentiment. Wheeler and Associates had been her brainchild. She’d been the one with the dream, the ambition, and the guts to see her vision come to life. She’d close the doors before she’d see it run improperly. “So you want me to look into the backgrounds of your grandchildren, then let you know what I find out.”

“That, and I want your personal observations on each.” Catching her look of surprise, he tapped his cigar on the railing to remove the ash, and then continued. “Any firm could get me the information I need, but you…you travel in the same circles. With your social connections, there isn’t a party or snooty affair you couldn’t get an invitation to, and that, my dear, is why I chose you. I’ve always thought if you really want to see what makes a person tick, observe them in a social arena like the one inside.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the gathering on the other side of the doors. “Over time, everyone shows their true colors, and whether you love that type of thing or hate it as much as I do, these events can be a mine of information.”

The words cast a decided pall over her earlier enthusiasm. Glancing through the double doors, she gave an inner sigh. He was right, and she would have arrived at the same conclusion eventually. A good PI used every avenue at her disposal. It was surely a flaw in her genetic makeup that she would have preferred more nights like the one she’d spent in Frenchy’s than time spent at functions just like this one.

“What do you say, Miss Wheeler? Do you want the case?”

Without a hint of hesitation she answered, “Absolutely.”

“Good.” His tone suggested that he’d expected no other answer. He took her hand, pumped it hard twice before releasing it. “I’ll send over a file in the morning that will give you the basic data on each of my grandchildren, as well as my contact information. I’ll want regular updates.”

She nodded. “I’ll fill you in weekly. Would you like to come in to sign the contract, or should I have it delivered to you?”

“Deliver it to Garvey headquarters. The less we’re seen together the better chance we have of keeping our association under wraps.”

Now that he’d enlisted her cooperation, he appeared eager to be alone again. Jacey let the suit jacket slide off her shoulders and handed it to him. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised, and turned to walk toward the doors. Before entering the ballroom again, she took one last look at the man who’d just hired her.

Garvey was leaning heavily against the railing, the cigar in one hand, his jacket in the other. There was an aura of loneliness about his figure, one he would have been the first to deny. She felt a flicker of sympathy. Despite his family, the man was destined to die the same way he’d hacked out a niche in the corporate world. Alone.

Once inside, she looked for her mother to say her goodbyes and make her escape. But once she found her, Charlotte dashed Jacey’s hopes of salvaging a portion of the evening with a quiet hour or two at home before bed.

“Did you hire a limo or drive yourself?”

“I drove,” she said automatically, then immediately wished the words back. That would probably be enough to set her mother off on a disapproving lecture about maintaining appearances.

But this time Charlotte surprised her. “Wonderful, then you can give me a ride home. After John dropped me here, I gave him the rest of the night off.”

Jacey blinked in surprise. Her mother wasn’t exactly known for her largesse with employees. “I could call for a taxi if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m right on your way.”

She was at least twenty minutes in the other direction, but Jacey pressed her lips together and did a mental count to ten. She could hardly refuse without seeming churlish, and making it appear that she didn’t want to spend any more time than possible in her mother’s presence.

Just because that fact happened to be true, didn’t make it any less discourteous.

Silently kissing away the fantasy she’d had of spending a couple of hours unwinding, she accompanied her mother in search of their hostess. Her temples began to throb. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the headache would only worsen before the evening was over.

The gates to the huge estate swung open slowly, and Jacey nosed her car up the long circular drive. Darkness had fallen over the meticulous lawn and ornamental shrubbery. She had always thought the home looked best in the dark. With the windows lit from within, the mansion took on a deceptively warm and inviting air. In the daylight, its uncompromising lines and precise landscaping made it seem much more rigid, impersonal.

Much like its lone occupant.

“Just leave your car in front. I’ll have cook serve us tea in the drawing room.” As Jacey pulled to a stop, Charlotte’s hand went to the door handle.

“I really can’t come in, Mother. It’s been a long day and I have an early start tomorrow. But I’ll call you tomorrow night, I promise.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” With her usual tactics, Charlotte steamrollered over Jacey’s excuses. “We have to discuss this situation you’re in, and I refuse to do that over the phone.”

Situation? Jacey rubbed her temples as her mother got out of the car. The hammering within was taking on a life of its own. Had Charlotte overheard Garvey? Or had she somehow caught wind of what had occurred at Frenchy’s? She rejected both notions, even as she turned off the ignition and got out of the car. It would be just like her mother to be talking about her “little hobby,” as she liked to call Wheeler and Associates. She had a feeling that the upcoming conversation was one they’d had many times before, and there was no new ground to be covered.

Nevertheless, she followed her mother up the ornamental brick walk, and into the house. With her sore knee and headache, she was feeling just bitchy enough to be more blunt than usual when she told her mother to butt out. Again.

Charlotte was already replacing the receiver to the house phone in its cradle when Jacey stepped into the graceful drawing room. Like its owner, it was carefully accessorized to reflect elegance and good taste. With its paintings and objects of art it always reminded Jacey of a museum. Beautiful, but curiously lifeless.