Summer in Eclipse Bay

Chapter 10

"Are you all crazy?" Nick planted both hands on the counter and leaned across it. His tone was low, but his jaw was granite. "I write novels about a private eye. Such books are called fiction. Do you know what fiction means? It means it is not real."

"Calm down, Nick," Octavia said soothingly.

She was very conscious of Carson, who was just outside the front door now talking to a man who had a dog in the back of his truck. She did not want the boy to overhear this argument.

When Arizona and Virgil had left the gallery a few minutes earlier, she had slipped behind the counter. She had deemed it prudent to put a bit of distance between them. Given Nick's simmering outrage, it was clear that he was not thrilled with the idea of having been drafted. But the counter did not seem nearly wide enough.

"Pay attention. I. Am. Not. A. Real. Private. Investigator." Nick spaced each word out very carefully and deliberately, as though talking to someone from another planet who might not have a good grasp of the language. "I do not have a license. I do not investigate for a living. I write fiction for a living. And you know that as well as I do. Why did you and Virgil agree to go along with A.Z.'s zany scheme?"

"Because we don't have a lot of choice," she said briskly. "As you pointed out, there aren't any real investigators here in Eclipse Bay, and I agree with A.Z. about Sean Valentine. He's a good man, and he is no doubt a very competent cop. But I'm pretty sure that he intends to waste a lot of time looking in all the wrong places."

"Don't tell me you agree with Arizona's conspiracy theory? You really think Valentine should look for the culprit up at the institute?" Nick spread his hands. "Give me a break. That's nuts and you know it."

"I doubt very much that the painting was stolen by someone at the institute," she said coolly. "But that still leaves a lot of rocks to turn over and I don't think Sean will do that. I've got a hunch he'll concentrate on the Heralds."

Nick was silent.

"I knew it," she muttered. "He does think it was someone from the Incandescent Body, doesn't he?"

"He intends to do some background checks on some of them," Nick admitted. "It's a logical place to start. The Heralds constitute the largest group of newcomers and unknowns in town who would have had knowledge of the painting and where it was stored."

"That's not true. There are more newcomers and unknowns up at the institute and Chamberlain College."

"Okay, maybe. Technically speaking. But it's unlikely that many of them would have heard about the painting so soon. With a few exceptions, they're considered outsiders here in Eclipse Bay. Not full-fledged members of the community. Most of them are not hardwired into the gossip circuit. The Heralds, on the other hand, knew everything about the Upsall almost immediately because Photon and A.Z. told them."

"Others could have known, too," she insisted. "You know how word spreads in this town."

"Come to think of it, you're right," he replied curtly. "There are a lot of suspects, aren't there?"

She did not like the way he said that. "Not a lot. Some."

"Jeremy Seaton, for instance. Heck, you showed him right where the painting was stashed. You even let him take a really close look at it. And he's into art. Probably knows some underhanded dealers back in Portland or Seattle who would be willing to take a stolen Upsall off his hands, no questions asked."

Shock reverberated through her. It took a moment to recover. Then she flattened her palms on the counter very close to his own big hands and leaned forward so that they were only inches apart.

"Don't you dare imply that Jeremy took the painting," she said softly. "That is beneath contempt."

"You want a private investigator on the case? You gotta expect some uncomfortable speculation."

"You brought up Jeremy's name only because you don't like him very much," she said through her teeth.

"Just trying to be logical. That's what we investigators are paid to do."

"You know something? When A.Z. came up with the idea to hire you, it struck Virgil and me that there was some merit to the plan. After all, who would know Eclipse Bay better than a Harte? And with your family history and clout here in town, you can talk to anyone. Get through any door. People will take you seriously and open up to you."

He took his hands off the counter. "Because I'm considered one of the locals?"

"Yes. You've got access in a way that Sean Valentine does not." She moved one hand slightly. "And that's why I went along with A.Z.'s scheme. But now I'm having second thoughts."

"Good."

"I agree with you," she went on smoothly. "I think that with your poor attitude, it is highly unlikely that you will be of any use to us."

"Yes, he will," Carson said very earnestly from the doorway. "I'll help him."

"That's very nice of you, Carson, but your father is not interested in working for me, so I'll just have to investigate without him."

"Do you know how to be an investigator?" Carson asked, intrigued.

"I've read all your father's books about John True. How hard can it be?"

Nick's eyes went very narrow. "What's this about investigating on your own?"

She raised one shoulder in a deliberately careless shrug. "I don't see that I have much option."

His mouth thinned. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"This is a really, really dumb idea, Octavia. Stay out of it. Let Sean Valentine do his job."

She watched him just as steadily as he watched her. Damned if she would let him intimidate her, she thought. She was Claudia Banner's great-niece. She could handle a Harte.

"That Upsall was in my custody," she said. "I feel responsible for the loss and I intend to do whatever I can to recover it."

"You're trying to force my hand and I don't like it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You can't do this without me and you know it, so you're doing your best to manipulate me into a position where I have no choice but to play private eye for you."

"I wouldn't dream of trying to manipulate you," she said austerely. "I'm sure it would be impossible."

He folded his arms across his chest. He did not try to conceal his irritation.

"Okay," he said at last. "You win. I'll ask your questions for you."

"Thanks, but I really don't want you to do me any favors."

"I'm not doing you a favor," he said. "I'm doing it for A.Z. and Virgil." He glanced at Carson. "Come on, son, let's go. We've got things to do."

"Are we going to be private eyes?" Carson asked eagerly.

"Yep. You can be my assistant, at least until you get bored with the job, which probably won't take long."

"I won't get bored."

"Sure you will," Nick said. "Heck, I already know that I'm going to get bored."

"Look, if you don't think that you can keep your attention focused on this problem-" Octavia began.

"I'm a Harte, I can focus. Even when I'm bored." Nick turned on his heel and headed for the door. "Let's go, kid. We'll start at Rumor Central."

"Where's that?" Octavia called after him.

Nick glanced back over his shoulder. "The post office, naturally."

"I heard the Upsall disappeared sometime late yesterday or last night." Jeremy lounged back in his desk chair, cocked one tasseled loafer-shod foot on his knee, and tapped the tip of a pen against the armrest. "True?"

"I'm afraid so," Octavia said.

She sank down into the only other chair in the small office and admired the view through the window. The town, with its marina and pier, was spread out before her in a picture-perfect landscape that would have looked good hanging in her gallery.

The tide was out again. Eclipse Arch, the massive stone monolith that dominated the long sweep of beach framed by the arc of Bayview Drive, was fully exposed. Sunlight sparkled on the water. The air had been scrubbed so clean by last night's storm that she could make out Hidden Cove and Sundown Point, the two rocky outcroppings that marked the southern and northern boundaries of the bay. She could even see the elegant old mansion that Rafe and Hannah had transformed into Dreamscape.

She had gotten into the habit of taking a sandwich in to work with her, but she had neglected to bring one today. Feeling badly in need of a short break, she did something she almost never did: she closed up for the noon hour. She drove up the hillside above town with some vague notion of getting a salad at Snow's Cafe. Instead she'd steered straight on past to the institute. Luckily Jeremy had been in his office and had invited her to eat with him in the cafeteria. Now they were back, drinking coffee together.

"I assume our noble chief of police is on the case?" Jeremy said.

"Yes. Sean is looking into matters." She decided not to mention that Nick was also investigating.

She was almost certain that Nick hadn't been serious when he had named Jeremy as a likely suspect, but there was so much bad blood between the two men that she did not want to risk pouring gasoline on the fire.

"Got any theories?" Jeremy asked.

"No." She frowned. "I think Sean feels it might be one of the Heralds."

"A real possibility. No one knows much about that crowd down at the bakery. My grandmother still thinks they're some kind of cult. Not that the theory keeps her from buying her favorite lemon squares there, of course."

"When it comes to good lemon squares, you have to do what you have to do."

"Speaking of doing what you have to do, I think I've worked my nerve up at last. Can I persuade you to come up and view my etchings some evening this week?"

"Any time."

"Are you free this evening?"

She thought about how she had hoped that she would not be free tonight. But things had changed.

"As it happens, I am, indeed, entirely free this evening," she said.

Late that afternoon Nick balanced, feet slightly apart, on the gently bobbing dock and looked down at the short, wiry man standing in the back of a boat. Young Boone was dressed in a pair of stained and faded coveralls that appeared to be at least thirty years old. He wore a blue peaked cap emblazoned with the logo of a marine supply firm.

Even on his best days, Young Boone was not what anyone would call chatty. He had inherited the marina decades earlier from his father, Old Boone. Young Boone was somewhere in his seventies and his father had died twenty years ago, but he would probably go to his grave known as Young Boone. If either of the Boones had had first names, they had long since been forgotten in the misty past of Eclipse Bay history.

For two generations the Boones, Old and Young, had made their home in the seriously weathered two-story structure at the edge of the marina. The lower floor housed a bait, tackle, and boating supply shop. The upstairs served as the Boones' living quarters.

"Heard you had a little damage down here last night." Nick surveyed the marina through his sunglasses.

"Some." Young Boone did not look up from the rope he was coiling in the back of the boat. "Nothin' that can't be fixed."

"Glad to hear it. Storm woke you up, I'll bet."

"Couldn't hardly sleep through that racket. Came out here to check on the boats."

"That's what I figured." Nick studied the view of the shops across the street. The front of Bright Visions was clearly visible. "Happen to notice anyone hanging around the art gallery during the storm? Maybe see a car parked in the lot? Should have been empty at that time of night."

"Nope." Young Boone straightened and peered at Nick from beneath the peaked brim of his cap. "Only vehicle I saw was yours. Figured you was headin' back out to your family's place after spendin' time with Miss Brightwell."

Nick kept all expression from his face. This wasn't the first time today that he had been obliged to listen to observations about his late-night drive home.

"Uh-huh," he said. Noncommittal.

Young Boone screwed up his haggard features into a frown that may or may not have been genuine curiosity. "This have anything to do with that picture they say went missin' from the art gallery last night?"

"Yeah. I'd really like to find it for A.Z. and Virgil."

Young Boone nodded. "Wish I could help you but I didn't see a damn thing last night. Course, I was real busy here securing the boats and such like. Might have missed something goin' on across the street."

"You didn't miss my car when I drove past the marina," Nick reminded him dryly.

"No, I didn't and that's a fact. But I finished up down here right after that and went back to bed."

Which meant that there had been long stretches of time during the night when no one would have noticed a car in the parking lot across the street, Nick thought.

Young Boone gave him a knowing wink. "Miss Brightwell's nice, ain't she?"

"Yeah."

"A man like you could do a lot worse."

"A man like me?"

"Raising that boy of yours alone. No wife or mother around. Reckon it's time you settled down and got married again, don't you?"

"I don't think about it much," Nick said.

"Well, you damn well should be thinkin' about it, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, but I'll take your opinion under advisement."

"Under advisement?" Boone wiped his hands on a dirty rag. "That a fancy way of sayin' you ain't interested in my opinion?"

"No. Just meant I'll consider it." He watched a familiar, monster-sized SUV abruptly wheel into the marina parking lot. Mitchell Madison. Bryce was at the wheel.

Damn. He did not need another scene with Octavia's self-appointed guardian, Nick thought. Time to leave.

"You consider it real good," Young Boone said. "Time you found yourself a wife. You're a Harte. Hartes get married and stay married."

"Say, Boone, I've got to be on my way. You'll let me know if you hear anything about that painting, won't you?"

"Sure. But it's probably gone for good."

That gave Nick pause. He turned back. "Why do you say that?"

"Can't see anyone around here hangin' a stolen painting in his house. Sooner or later, someone would be bound to notice the damn thing."

"Okay, I'll give you that. And I'll also admit that this Upsall picture isn't the sort of fine art that you'd expect would appeal to the connoisseurs among us here in Eclipse Bay."

"Heard it looked like something a kindergartner might turn out," Young Boone said.

"Hey, I've got a kindergartner who can do better-looking art. Yeah, the Upsall is sort of ugly. Sure hard to envision someone like, say, Sandy down at the gas station, going to the trouble to steal it just so he could hang it on the wall of the restroom. And it would look a little out of place in the Total Eclipse, too."

Boone thought for a moment. "Still leaves all those fancy types up at the institute and Chamberlain College. They might go for that kinda thing."

"Maybe. If that's the case, we'll have to let Valentine deal with it. I'm just checking out the possibility that someone local might have taken it as a prank or on a dare. I can see some guy who'd had a couple-three-too-many beers down at the Total Eclipse deciding to swipe the painting as a stunt."

"Huh. Hadn't thought of that."

"In which case," Nick said in the same casual tone he'd been using all day long, "if it just shows up again there will be no questions asked."

Young Boone squinted knowingly and snapped his oily rag.

"Gotcha. I'll spread the word."

"Thanks."

Mitchell was out of the SUV. He had his cane in one hand and he was making straight for the dock where Nick stood.

"I'd better get going," Nick said. "Places to go, people to see."

Boone glanced past him toward Mitchell, who was advancing rapidly. "Good luck. Gonna be hard to avoid Madison. He's got a bee in his bonnet about you and that Miss Brightwell gal."

"I know." Nick assessed his chances of escape. He had the advantage of being several decades younger than Mitchell, and he hadn't developed any arthritis yet. If he moved quickly, he might just make it to the car before Madison intercepted him. "See you around, Boone."

"See ya."

Nick went swiftly along the gently shifting dock. He made it through the gate and was halfway across the parking lot when he realized he wasn't going to be able to dodge his pursuer. He could outrun him, of course, but that would have been the coward's way. Hartes did not run from Madisons.

"Hold up right there, Harte." Mitchell thumped his cane on the hard-packed ground as he veered to the right to block Nick's path. His bushy brows bristled across the bridge of his aggressive nose. "I want to talk to you."

Nick halted. Not much choice, he figured.

"'Afternoon, sir," he said politely. "Storm give you any trouble last night?"

"Storms don't give me trouble." Mitchell planted himself in front of Nick and glowered ferociously. "Hartes give me trouble. Just what the hell kind of game do you think you're playing with Octavia Brightwell?"

"I don't want to be rude, sir, but I'm in a hurry here. Maybe we should talk about this later."

"We'll talk right now." Mitchell banged the cane again for emphasis. "I heard you spent the night out at Octavia's place."

"That, sir, is a flat-out lie."

Mitchell was startled into momentary speechlessness.

"You tellin' me it was someone else? You weren't the man who was out there last night?"

"I had dinner with Octavia," Nick said evenly. "I went home afterward. I did not spend the night."

"The way I hear it, you were there until nearly one o'clock in the morning."

"You've got spies on your payroll?"

"Don't need any spies. Young Boone saw you drive past the marina late last night. He told everyone at the post office first thing this morning."

"You know, sir, I hate to break this to you, but nowadays it's not all that unusual for a couple of adults to spend an evening together that doesn't wind up until one in the morning."

"Not here in Eclipse Bay, they don't, not unless they're foolin' around. And you two aren't a couple of adults."

"We're not?"

"Nope."

"Mind if I ask just how you classify us, if not as adults?"

"You're a Harte and Octavia is Claudia's great-niece."

"So?"

"Shoot and damn, son." Mitchell raised the cane and waved it in a slashing arc. "I warned you. If you think I'm gonna just stand by and let you take advantage of that gal, you're-"

"Mitch, wait." Octavia's clear voice echoed across the parking lot. "I can explain everything."

Nick turned his head and saw Octavia coming toward them at top speed. She left the sidewalk in front of her shop and raced across Bay Street, hair flying behind her.

He was amazed that she could actually run in the sexy little slides. They did not look as if they'd provide adequate support or stability for this kind of exercise. But, then, what did he know about ladies' shoes?

A car horn blared. Brakes screeched. Octavia paid no attention. She reached the opposite side of the street and kept moving, heading straight for Mitchell and Nick.

"You don't understand, Mitch," she shouted. "It's okay, really it is."

Mitchell glared at her with concern when she skidded to a halt, breathless and flushed, in front of him.

"See here, you all right?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Still breathing hard, she shot a quick, unreadable glance at Nick and then turned back to Mitchell. "I just wanted to assure you that you don't have to protect me from Nick."

"I already warned him once that I won't stand by and let him fool around with you."

"That's just it, we are not fooling around."

"Well, just what the heck do you call it?" Mitchell demanded.

Nick waited with genuine interest to hear her answer.

Octavia drew herself up with astonishing aplomb. "Nick is working for me."

Mitchell gaped. "What the devil?"

She bestowed an icy little smile on Nick and then looked at Mitchell with cool determination. "He has kindly agreed to investigate the missing Upsall. A.Z. and Virgil and I don't feel that Chief Valentine can handle the case on his own."

"Well, shoot and damn." Mitchell looked bemused for a couple of seconds, but in true Madison style, he recovered swiftly. "That doesn't explain why he was out at your place until all hours last night."

"Relax," Octavia said smoothly. "Last night was no big deal."

Nick felt his insides clench. No big deal?

"It's true we had dinner together, but so what?" Octavia went on in a breezy manner. "The only reason he left as late as he did was because of the storm. My fault, entirely. I didn't want him driving home until the wind had died down a little. I was afraid about stuff like downed power lines and trees falling across the road."

She did not have to sound quite so damned casual, Nick thought.

But her tactics were working. Mitchell was starting to appear somewhat mollified.

"Well, shoot and damn," Mitchell said again. "So you kept him there at your place on accounta the high winds?"

"Violent storms make me a little nervous."

"That one last night was a tad rough," Mitchell admitted. "Worst we've had in a while. You say he's gonna play private eye for you? Just like the guy in his books?"

"Precisely," Octavia said firmly. "From now on whenever you see Nick with me, you may assume that we are discussing the case. Nothing more."

"Huh." Mitchell looked thoughtful now. "If you're sure that's all there is to it-"

"Absolutely certain," Octavia said. "Like I said, last night was no big deal. Just a friendly dinner that lasted a little longer than we anticipated because of the storm."

"Huh." Mitchell looked hard at Nick. "You think you can find that painting?"

"Probably not." Nick shrugged. "But Virgil and A.Z. and Octavia want me to ask around a little so I said I would. If you hear anything useful, let me know."

"I'll do that."

Mitchell nodded to both of them and stalked back toward the waiting SUV.

They watched him climb into the front seat and slam the door. Bryce put the behemoth in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

There was a short silence. Nick folded his arms, leaned back against the BMW, and looked at Octavia.

"Let's get something straight here," he said. "I don't need you to protect me from Mitchell Madison."

Octavia reached into her shoulder bag, removed a pair of sunglasses, and slipped them onto her nose. Leveling the playing field, Nick thought. Now he could not read the expression in her eyes any better than she could read his.

"I think I'm the one who should make things clear," she said crisply. "I have a vested interest in making certain that you are not distracted by Mitchell and his misguided attempts to protect me. I want you to concentrate on finding that Upsall. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah, sure. We understand each other." He paused a beat. "Last night was no big deal, huh?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly. Light glared on the lenses of her glasses. "I may not have phrased that correctly."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"After due consideration, I've decided that last night was actually quite therapeutic for me."

Her deliberate, reflective, analytical tone sent a cold chill through him.

"Therapeutic?" he repeated cautiously.

"Don't laugh, but this morning, when I woke up, I felt like the princess in the fairy tale, the one who'd been asleep for a hundred years. Awake at last. Okay, so maybe it was more like having been asleep for a couple of years, but you get the picture."

He relaxed a little but not much. "I'm a little confused here. Are you saying I'm Prince Charming?"

She chuckled. "Hardly."

His belly tightened. "I was afraid of that."

"What I'm trying to explain is that, in a way, I've been living in a different world for nearly two years. I put a lot of things on hold while Aunt Claudia was ill, and I never went back to them after she died. I've been just sort of floating through my life, as it were."

"A free spirit."

"That's how I described it, but it was more like being unanchored or untethered, if you see what I mean."

That fit with what he had figured out for himself, he thought. "Sounds like a form of depression or something."

"Maybe." She snapped her fingers. "But whatever the problem was, it's fixed."

"Because we had great sex last night?"

"The quality of the sex probably wasn't as much of a factor as the fact that I actually did the deed." She smiled coolly. "It has been a while, you see. My social life was one of the things I put on hold when Aunt Claudia got so ill. I never really got back to it."

"Glad I could serve in a useful capacity."

"You were extremely useful." She pushed her glasses up more firmly on her nose and cleared her throat. "Since we're having this conversation, I should probably take the opportunity to apologize for that unfortunate little scene last night as you were running out the door. Let's just chalk it up to two years' worth of celibacy, the storm, and the last remnants of my weird emotional condition."

"A nice tidy list of reasons." He shoved his fingers through his hair. "And for the record, I was not running out the door. It was late and I had to pick up Carson and get back to the cottage."

"Of course." She glanced at her watch. "I'm glad we've got that settled. You'll have to excuse me. I need to get back to the gallery."

"Now who's running?"

Her mouth tightened. "I've got a business to see to and you've got a missing painting to investigate."

"Sure." He wished he could see her eyes behind those damn sunglasses. "Would you like to come out to my place and have dinner with Carson and me tonight?"

She hesitated. "Thanks, but I'm afraid I'm busy this evening."

The chill returned to his gut. "Seaton?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," he said grimly.

"He wants me to look at some of his paintings." She turned away to start back toward the gallery. "He has never exhibited his work and he wants me to give him a professional opinion on whether it might have commercial possibilities."

"Bullshit. He wants to talk you into bed."

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Would you like to tell me what it is between you two?"

"What the hell. I never told anyone else." He wrenched open the driver's side door of the BMW and got behind the wheel. "Might be therapeutic for me."

"Nick, wait-"

He slammed the door and looked at her through the lowered window while he started the engine. "Seaton hates my guts because he thinks that I had an affair with his ex-wife while they were still married."

Her mouth opened but no words emerged. Her speechless condition gave him some satisfaction, but not much.

"One more thing," he added, snapping the car into gear. "What happened last night between you and me wasn't therapy. It was great sex. There's a difference."

He drove out of the marina parking lot, leaving her standing there in her bright purple jumper and ridiculously sexy shoes.