Sweet Fortune

  Hatch swore again as he limped back to examine the Mercedes. He surveyed the windows anxiously and ran a questing hand along the pristine silver-gray fender. He relaxed a little when he realized that no damage had been done.

  The dealer had told him the new state-of-the-art alarm system Hatch had ordered would be available for installation at the end of the month. Hatch decided he'd call when he got back to Seattle and see if he could speed up the delivery date. No place was crime-free these days. It was a damned disgrace when a man could not even park his car out in the open on a quiet little island.

  “Hatch. Hatch. For heaven's sake, Hatch.”

  He glanced up to see Jessie leaning out the window. She was clutching his trousers. He opened his mouth to chew her out for having caused the commotion that enabled the man to get away. Then he promptly closed it again as it occurred to him that he was standing around in his briefs in a public parking lot.

  “Shit.” Hatch grimly held up one hand. Jessie bundled up the trousers and pitched them down to him.

  Hatch was adjusting his zipper when a light went on in the room next to the one he and Jessie were using. A plump bald man wearing a T-shirt stuck his head out and glowered down at Hatch.

  “What the hell's going on down there? We're trying to sleep up here. You want to get drunk and cause trouble, go somewhere else, you bum.”

  “I'll do that,” Hatch said.

  He went up the porch steps, found the front-door key in the pocket of his trousers, and let himself into the darkened lobby.

  Jessie was waiting anxiously inside the room. She had put on her robe but her hair was still pleasantly tousled from sleep. Her obvious concern for him was gratifying. Almost gratifying enough to make him forget that she had been the reason the would-be vandal had gotten away.

  “Are you all right?” She fussed around him as he lowered himself into the chair.

  “Hell, yes.”

  She frowned as she sank down onto the bed across from him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Dammit, Jessie, I nearly had him. If you hadn't started yelling about calling the cops, I would have had him.”

  “Hatch, it's only a car.”

  “Only a car? Only a car? Do you know what that model costs? Do you know how long I waited for it to be delivered? Maybe you come from the kind of background where beautiful things like that get taken for granted, but I don't.”

  “Hatch, calm down. Believe me, I appreciate the value of your car. But I value you more than I do your Mercedes. Be reasonable. In this day and age you can't just go around confronting criminals. It's very dangerous. He might have had a gun.” She paused. “Or a knife. Like last time.”

  Hatch went very still. “What are you talking about?”

  She hesitated. “I'm not sure if I should say this or not because it will only upset, you're liable to start lecturing me again and I don't want you ruining everything, if you see what I mean.”

  Hatch came up out of the chair, took one step over to the bed, reached down, and hauled her to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “Well…”

  “Dammit, Jessie.”

  “Okay, okay, I'll tell you, but you mustn't get too concerned, because I'm probably wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.

  “About the fact that the guy you just chased off in the parking lot reminded me a bit of the one who broke into Mrs. V's offices and tried to steal Alex's computer equipment.”

  Hatch felt himself go cold. “Christ. Are you sure?”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, how could I be certain? The man was wearing a stocking mask each time, remember? But there was something about his build. Slight. Wiry. I don't know, Hatch. It was just a feeling. Sort of like the one that made me get out of bed and look out the window in the first place.”

  “That settles it.” Hatch released her and went across the room to check the lock on the door.

  “Settles what?”

  “You're through playing big-time psychic investigator. This case of yours is developing too many angles and I don't like any of them. I'm declaring it closed, as of now.”

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. And then outrage kindled in her eyes. “You can't do that. This is my case. I've got a client. And I've got all sorts of new leads to follow. I'm not about to stop my investigation on your orders.”

  “Look, Jessie, this is no longer a game, understand? I was willing to indulge you for a while because it all seemed relatively safe.”

  “Indulge me? Is that how you saw it?” She stared at him in gathering fury. “Thanks a lot, Sam Hatchard. I had a hunch that was your attitude but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt after you found that computer-printout page for me. You had me almost convinced you were taking my new job seriously, that you were actually interested in my project.”

  “I am taking it seriously. That's why I'm calling a halt to it.”

  “You can't stop me from continuing this investigation.”

  He exhaled heavily and absently rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to think of a better way to deal with her anger. “Be reasonable, Jessie. You know for certain now that you're not dealing with a fake psychic. Edwin Bright is most likely running some kind of scam, from the looks of things. But he's not seducing his followers by pretending he has psychic abilities. Report that to Mrs. Attwood and you'll have done your job. She needs a real private investigator if she wants to carry this any further.”

  “At dinner you implied you were willing to help me finish this investigation,” Jessie reminded him through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, well, that was when I thought we could play with it a bit longer and keep you happy. But the possibility that some guy is following you around means the fun and games are over.”

  “Dammit, Hatch, we don't know it was the same man. In all likelihood it wasn't. I knew I shouldn't have said anything.”

  “Well, you did, so that's that.”

  “I will not tolerate this condescending attitude toward my new career.”

  That remark inflamed him further. “I'm not being condescending, I'm being careful. Someone's got to exercise a little common sense around here, and it sure doesn't look like you're going to be the one to do it, does it?”

  “If that's the way you're going to be, you're off the case.”

  He lifted his eyes briefly toward the ceiling in silent supplication. “Case? What case? This isn't a case, it's another calculated effort by you to drive some poor innocent employer crazy. Mrs. Valentine has my sincerest sympathy. I know just how she's going to feel when she finds out what's happening.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Damn right. She's going to realize she's got a loose cannon on board, just like every other one of your past employers has eventually been forced to realize. Come to think of it, this proves she's a fraud herself. If she had any real psychic powers she would have known better than to hire you in the first place.”

  “A loose cannon.”

  Hatch knew he'd gone too far. She was furious. “Dammit, Jessie, I never meant to say that. I'm sorry. Look, I'm just trying to make a point here.”

  A violent pounding on the wall that adjoined their room silenced Hatch immediately. He felt himself turning a dull red as the voice of the plump bald man next door boomed through the barrier.

  “If you two don't shut the fuck up in there, I'm calling the manager, goddammit. You hear me?”

  Jessie glared at Hatch in satisfaction. “Yes, Hatch, why don't you shut up? You're disturbing the neighbors. You're going to get us kicked out of here.”

  “I don't believe this.” He raked a hand through his hair, stunned at his own loss of control. Then he surged to his feet and started to pace the small room. “I am in a hotel room at one o'clock in the morning engaging in a domestic quarrel with a woman who thinks she's some kind of psychic private investigator.
I ought to have my head examined.”

  “I'm sure Aunt Glenna would be glad to do it for you at the usual family discount.”

  He swung around, his voice very soft as he leveled a finger at her. “I don't want to hear another word about your damned case until morning. Got that?”

  Her chin came up and her eyes glittered in anticipation of the next act of rebellion.

  “Jessie, I swear if you give me any more grief tonight, I won't give a damn about disturbing the neighbors,” he said very quietly.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It's a promise. Close your mouth and get back into bed.”

  “Or else what?” She looked at him expectantly.

  “Christ, lady, you don't know when to quit, do you? Or else I will put you in that bed myself. And I won't care if you scream the place down while I do it. That should have the idiot next door calling the manager in no time. I'll let you do all the explaining as they kick us out of here.”

  She flushed. “Honestly, Hatch.”

  “Yes, honestly, Jessie. Get back into bed.”

  She got back into bed without a word.

  Hatch took off his trousers and got in beside her, not touching her. He was aware of how stiffly she was lying next to him and decided she was probably staring at the ceiling, just as he was. Moments crept past.

  “Hatch?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It would never have worked anyway.” She sounded oddly sad rather than angry.

  “Your job as a psychic detective? I could have told you that.”

  “No. I meant us. You and me. A long-term, committed relationship. It would never have worked. You can see that for yourself now, can't you? We'd be at each other's throats all the time.”

  “It'll work,” he muttered, still too angry and frustrated at her obstinacy to risk letting himself get dragged into a detailed discussion of just how it was going to work. In his present precarious mood he was likely to say a lot of things that would only add fuel to the fire. He had his self-control back and he intended to keep it.

  “But, Hatch—”

  “Go to sleep, Jessie.”

  She sighed wistfully, turned her back to him, and curled up in a pathetic little ball. A few minutes later Hatch was sure he heard a suspicious sniff. He did not say anything. When he heard another, similar sound he rolled onto his side so that he was facing her back. Then he reached out and pulled her tightly against him, snuggling her into his warmth.

  She resisted silently at first and then acquiesced without a murmur. A few minutes later he was sure she was asleep.

  Hatch lay awake for a long while, contemplating the fact that he had never allowed a woman to undermine his self-control the way Jessie had. One minute he was making love to her, the next he was involved in an argument that was loud enough to wake the neighbors. That kind of scene would never have happened with Olivia.

  Hatch grinned briefly in the darkness and pulled Jessie closer.

  The full ramifications of the argument that had taken place in the middle of the night did not sink in until Jessie emerged from the tiny bath the next morning. She came to a halt in the middle of the room, staring at Hatch; who was buckling his belt.

  “Oh, my God. This is a bed-and-breakfast place.” It was the first time she had spoken to him since she had awakened.

  He quirked one brow as he checked for his wallet. “So what?”

  She glowered at him. “So we can't possibly go downstairs to breakfast.”

  “We paid for it. Might as well eat it.”

  “Hatch, we can't. That man from next door and his wife will be in the dining room. And who knows about the people from the room on the other side of us or across the hall? I couldn't possibly face them. Not after that scene we conducted last night.”

  “We?”

  “You were as involved in it as I was. Don't you dare try to wriggle out of this. Hatch, I wouldn't be able to eat a bite, knowing they all heard us last night.”

  He studied her in silence for a long moment, giving no indication whatsoever about what he was thinking. Then he astonished her with the briefest of rueful grins. “You and me both, babe. Let's get the hell out of here before we run into the neighbors.”

  Their mutual interest in conducting a hasty exit from the scene of the debacle succeeded in reestablishing communications between them. Jessie realized they were both wary of starting another argument, however, and they did not say a whole lot to each other on the drive back to Seattle. The silence was cautious but not hostile.

  Jessie did make one or two efforts to introduce the subject of the investigation of Dawn's Early Light, but did not pursue them when she ran up against a stony response.

  It was not until he had carried her overnight case to her front door and seen her safely inside that Hatch finally brought up the topic himself.

  “Jessie, I meant it last night when I told you I want you to forget this stupid investigation. Tell Mrs. Attwood you've done all you can. Let her go another route.”

  He did not wait for her to restart the argument. He simply turned and went back out the door after putting down her bag.

  “Hatch, I told you…” She broke off to hurry after him as he headed for the stairs. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To the office. It's only the middle of the afternoon. I've got work to do.”

  “I should have known,” she muttered. She folded her arms under her breasts and leaned against the door frame.

  Hatch glanced back once. “See you for dinner. I'll probably be a little late.”

  “Hold it. I am not altering my life-style to suit your schedule, Mr. Hatchard.”

  “I recently altered mine to suit yours.”

  He was gone before she could think of a response. With a muffled groan of disgust Jessie unfolded her arms, closed the door, and stalked over to the phone. She had a duty to call Susan Attwood's mother.

  The phone was answered midway through the first ring. Mrs. Attwood's voice sounded very tense.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Attwood?”

  “Yes. Who is this? Is this the lady from Valentine Consultations?”

  “Right. Jessie Benedict. I wanted to report back to you on the results of my trip to DEL headquarters.”

  “Thank God you called. I've been trying to get hold of you.”

  The shrill edge in the woman's voice alarmed Jessie. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Attwood?”

  “No. That is, something has happened. I've changed my mind. Yes, that's it. I've changed my mind. I don't want a silly psychic involved in this. I don't know what got into me, going to you like that, I want you to stop work on this thing right away. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Mrs. Attwood, but I don't understand. Don't you want to locate Susan?”

  “It's all right. Everything's fine. Just…just a misunderstanding on my part. I panicked, that's all. Now, I want you to stop your investigation immediately. I am not going to pay you for any work on my behalf. Is that quite clear?”

  “Perfectly clear, Mrs. Attwood.” Jessie spoke very gently. “There is the little matter of the four hundred dollars and travel expenses which you did approve the other day, however.”

  “No. Not one red cent. You should never have gone up there. You're not a real detective.”

  “But, Mrs. Attwood—”

  “Just stay out of this.”

  Jessie held the phone away from her ear as Mrs. Attwood slammed down the receiver.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  What do you think, Alex? Can you use some of the information on these to get into the DEL computers for me?” Jessie handed him the page of computer printout Hatch had filched from the men's room at DEL headquarters.

  “Maybe.” Alex studied the printout in the dim light. It was only four in the afternoon but, as usual, he had the shades drawn in his office to create the perpetual twilight he favored. The glow of the computer screen in front of him reflected off the lenses of his glasses.

  Al
ex's working area was a dump site. Candy wrappers, cans of soda, and open bags of potato chips took up every spare inch that was not already occupied by a computer printout or a container of disks.

  “Looks like there are a couple of things I could try,” Alex mused. “Possible access codes and stuff. You said there was a lot of climatalogical data coming in on his computers. He's probably got an open line into a couple of standard weather data bases. If he has, he's vulnerable. I can probably find him. What do you want to look for?”

  “I'm not certain. Financial stuff, I guess. I was hoping Hatch would help me with this. He knows about this kind of thing and could direct us. But he's turned snake mean just because of a minor little incident up in the San Juans.”

  “How minor?”

  “Someone tried to break into his Mercedes. It shook him.”

  “No shit? That Mercedes he drives? I don't blame him,” Alex said with great feeling. “You know what that model goes for these days?”

  “It's just a car, Alex.”

  “That's not just a car. It's one beautiful machine.”

  “As it happens, the car is just fine. But we'll have to go ahead without Hatch. Now, what I'm trying to find out here is if DEL is a legitimate operation or if it's a scam.”

  “Why bother?” Alex frowned down at the printout. “If this client of yours took you off the project, why keep working on it?”

  Jessie tapped one fingernail lightly on the surface of his cluttered desk. “I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. It's just a feeling I have.”

  “A feeling about what?”

  “About Susan Attwood. I think her mother may have been right. She was sucked into something and she's being used somehow. I have a funny feeling she may be in real trouble.”

  “Intuition, huh?”

  “That's as good a word for it as any.”

  Alex nodded. “Okay, I'll see what I can do with this.”

  “You don't mind?”

  He grinned, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Heck, no. This looks like fun.”

  “I'll pay you.”

  “How? Your client fired you, remember?”

  “We'll work out something. You certainly shouldn't have to do this for free. Mind if I watch?”