Chapter 20

I answered the door dripping wet and wearing a robe.

"Swimming, huh?" James said.

"Yeah. Come in, James. It's great to see you again. Wanna beer?"

"A beer sounds good," he said. "I came to see Grace."

"She not here, James. She's at the lake."

He frowned. "I'll take the beer anyway."

I opened a bottle of beer and handed it to him, and then excused myself, telling him that I'd be right back. Outside, I told Mary that James had arrived.

"Shucks," she said. "I guess that means I've got to get dressed." She kissed Little Bundle's forehead. "You, too, baby girl." She handed Little Bundle to me while she put on a robe.

In my room, I pulled on some sweats.

"Go ahead," Mary said. "I'll join you later. I need to dress Little Bundle, and that'll give you and James a chance to talk."

James was still standing when I padded into the kitchen. "Sorry about that," I said.

He smiled. "No problem."

I made myself a glass of iced tea and we settled at the kitchen table.

"Deanna tells me that she and Grace had a big fight," James said.

"Yeah."

"Would you tell me about it?"

"No." I sipped tea.

He laughed. "Don't want to get between the rock and the hard place, huh?"

"You've got it."

"Fair enough. I understand because that's the spot I'm in. Deanna is demanding that I choose. I'd rather not."

I nodded, my way of saying that I understood. Then I put myself in that spot he occupied. "James, Grace made a promise to herself and to Deanna that she'd never try to take you away from Deanna. My sister loves you, but if you must choose one of them, Grace won't make a case for herself."

He assimilated my comment in silence and said, "Deanna told me that you and Grace plan to build a dream house so you can live together," he said and took a healthy slug of beer.

"Yes and no," I said and spent the next five minutes explaining the plans for the house in detail. "Besides planning for changing dynamics, one of the main reasons I want a different house evolved from the Bell fiasco. This house isn't secure. The new house will have a high wall around its perimeter, strong entrance gates for vehicles, and state-of-the-art security equipment," I said, adding an element of the house that I hadn't discussed with Grace or Mary.

"I understand," James said. "Got another beer?"

"Sure." I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him. "I'm not positive, James, but I think Deanna jumped to some incorrect conclusions."

"It would appear that's what happened," he said. "Is Grace alone at the lake?"

"No." He waited for me to elaborate. I didn't.

"When will she return to the city?"

"This evening."

He jotted down a phone number. "Have her call me," he said.

"I will. James, whatever comes out of this ruckus, I hope you and I can remain friends."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

"To that end, you're welcome to join us for tai chi at dawn tomorrow morning."

"If I can, I will," he said. "I understand your Denver show was a success."

"Yeah. My next show is in mid-December in Santa Fe. If you're not on assignment, you're invited as my guest."

"I'd like that, too. Sifu and I want a rematch with cudgels."

I grinned broadly. "Anytime."

"Tuesday morning?"

"You're on."

We set a time, and he left.

When Grace arrived home looking tanned, beautiful and relatively happy, I gave her James's phone number, which made her look nervous and discombobulated. She called him and left almost immediately. I didn't hear from her until about ten o'clock that night.

"I called so you wouldn't worry," Grace said. "I'll be staying with James tonight."

"Okay. How are you? Are you all right?"

"Yes. James says to count on us for tai chi at dawn."

That pleased me.

Talk about confusing! James and Grace arrived together for tai chi, but shortly after they walked in the house, the doorbell rang. I opened the door expecting to see Mary or Agnes. Instead, Deanna smiled at me.

"Good morning, Brent," she said cheerfully and pranced through the open door. "James, Grace, good morning," she said as if she and Grace had never exchanged bitter words. Grace greeted her just as enthusiastically, and then Mary and Agnes showed up. They ended up looking as confused as I felt. Like me, they said nothing except good morning.

The six of us moved as one, performing three almost perfect forms before Grace and Mary went inside to start breakfast. I'd noticed that James was carrying his cudgel when he stepped through the front door, so we sparred with the staffs, but not seriously. It wasn't a match, just an exercise. Deanna and Agnes sat outside and watched us. When we finished, Deanna gave James a kiss and left the house.

When we were alone, James took pity on me and said, "I told them I wouldn't choose, and that I expected them to get along. I told them that they'd do the choosing, not me, because the first unkind word I heard from either of them about the other would force me to choose the other."

I laughed. "That's a solution I didn't consider."

"It's not a solution, Brent. It's a tenuous truce at best. If I may use a shower, I'll join everyone for breakfast."

During breakfast I opened a topic that I'd wanted to talk about for some time, but I'd wanted James's input for the discussion.

"I've had good luck hiring private investigators to look into a couple of problems facing me," I said. "Their investigations led to Mary's lawsuit against Tucker and kept me from making a costly business mistake. The FBI is no longer actively pursuing the cowardly act of terror that killed our parents, Grace, and your brother, Mary. I checked. The investigation remains open, but that's it. Unless something unexpected happens like somebody ratting out the bomber, or the bomber suddenly deciding to confess, the cretin will get away with murder. I'm not willing to leave it at that. I'd like to hire someone to investigate the crime, but I won't act unilaterally. I'd like input from everyone at the table first."

"I'm not involved," Agnes said. "My input would be meaningless."

"Not so, Agnes," I said. "An active investigation could call attention to me, enough attention that the bomber could decide to make me his next victim. I'm with you a lot, and the bomber has already demonstrated that he isn't concerned about collateral damage."

"Oh! I see. All right, I'll provide my input, but I won't go first. I'm peripheral." She chuckled. "The story of my life: peripheral."

"Fair enough. Let's do this," I said. "Let's take a quick yes or no vote, the question being: should I hire a private investigator to look into the bombing? Grace, would you go first? Yes or no, please, no explanation."

"No," she said.

"Mary?" I said.

"No."

"James?"

"I'm beyond peripheral on this, Brent," he said.

"Not so. You love Grace. That makes you involved," I said.

"Then considering the way you phrased the question, my answer is no."

"Agnes?"

"May I defer my answer until James explains why his no vote was based on the way you asked the question?"

I grinned and said, "All right. James, I'd like to hear the same explanation."

"First, let me say that if someone murdered my parents or brother, I wouldn't rest until the murderer was brought to justice. That being said, I'd make sure whatever I did to obtain justice wouldn't put someone I cared about in jeopardy. That's why I said no your question. If your question were phrased: should I hire an investigator to look into the bombing in a way that can't be traced back to me, I'd have voted yes."

"Thanks James," I said. "I waited until you were around to ask my question and open this discussion because I knew that you'd steer me in the right direction. Grace, may I ask why you said no?"

"I want our parents' murderer brought to justice as much as you, but I don't want you, me or anyone else at this table at risk for any reason ever again if there's any way to avoid it. The Bell situation terrified me. I don't cope well with violence."

"Okay. Mary, why did you say no?"

"Jules helped me when no one else would. Someone murdered him and appears to be getting away with it. I don't like that, not even a little bit, but I can't and won't put my daughter at risk again."

"Agnes, you can't stall anymore," I said.

"The way you phrased your question, I vote no. I vote yes if you can figure out a way to get it done that can't be traced back to you."

I looked at James. "Can you help me hire an investigator so I don't leave any tracks that will lead the bomber back to me or mine?"

He grinned. "Sure."

I asked for another vote phrasing the question as changed by James. After I went around the table, I said, "We have unanimity. James, I'd like to initiate the investigation before you leave on another assignment."

"No problem. We'll talk after sparring with Sifu tomorrow morning."

"Well, what happened?" I said when Grace and I were alone after breakfast.

"What happened was your explanation of our dream house," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"After you detailed our preliminary design concepts for the house, James went to Deanna and passed along the facts you gave him. That took the wind out of her sails. I guess she lost it again, blaming herself for our breakup."

"As she should," I said by way of support.

"No, Brent. I was as much at fault as Deanna, and you know it. I didn't make an effort to detail the design concept. When she jumped to the wrong conclusion, I let her, and then used her immature reaction to end the relationship. That was wrong. I should have just ended the affair instead of manipulating the circumstances to make Deanna look bad, and I told James as much last night."

She sighed. "Brent, I'm not comfortable with that entire situation. As a threesome, it worked. As it is now, it doesn't work. I spent last night with James. Tonight, he'll be with Deanna. Back and forth, back and forth. The poor man. He must feel like a child subjected to joint custody with two warring divorced parents. He'll probably breathe a sigh of relief when he takes a new assignment."

"What about Carrie?"

"Carrie is just fun and games, Brent. By the way, she told me to tell you that your method works, but it, too, has its problems. If she waits until the guy is all hot and bothered before she flirts with him, it doesn't work. It's worse. But if she flirts from the get go, her unusual sex appeal doesn't kick in with as much force as it does if she does nothing. How did you know flirting would work?"

"Yin and yang, the power of opposite forces." I grinned.

"Yeah, sure, now tell me the truth."

"What I said isn't far from the truth. Her astonishing sex appeal happens without her volition, and she's right; she's okay but no raving beauty. I reasoned the raw sex she exudes could be diminished if she actually tried to be sexy instead of just being herself. I didn't know it would work. It was an experiment." I laughed. "If she learns to control her sex appeal, heaven help the man she selects for a mate when she decides she doesn't want to be a LUG anymore. She'll turn him everywhere but loose."

Grace laughed with me.

"What are you going to do about the broken trilogy?" I asked.

"Nothing right now. James will get a new assignment soon and leave both of us behind for a while. Perhaps during his next absence, the problem will take care of itself."

"What do you mean?"

She creased her pretty brow. "I don't know. Intuition, I guess. I love James, but he isn't the love of my life. The love of my life will spend his life with me, not gallivanting around the world putting his life at risk. Brent, believe it or not, I'm not at a point where I'm frantic about finding the love of my life. If I find him, that would be great. If I don't, I can still be happy. Frankly, I'm too young to get married, and I'm certainly not ready to be a mother. I have my writing. I'm enjoying college. There's the weird but wonderful connection and closeness that you and I share, and I cherish Mary's friendship." She chuckled. "I even get a kick out of Agnes. There's Carrie or someone like her, and if I have a need for intimacy with a man other than James, I can make that happen, too. The idea of building our house excites me, and I adore Sweet Rose." She grinned. "Where's the problem?"

"James," I said.

She frowned. "Yeah, there's James." Then her expression brightened. "But remember what I just outlined for you. Right now, James is the perfect man for me: a part-time lover that I respect and love. With his extensive absences and the nature of his work, he can't be the love of my life." She looked inwardly. "He could be, but..." With a shrug, she smiled. "I'll say it again, Brent. Where's the problem?"

Yet again, I decided to stop worrying about my big sister.

"Has Desmond come up with any acreage that might work for us?" she asked.

"Three possibilities, but all three would make commuting to ASU troublesome. He forwarded a fourth package that doesn't fit our parameters, but I think we should look at it. It's only three acres, and it's pricey. I think we should look at it because the land is in Paradise Valley, which allows an easy commute to ASU. Unfortunately, it comes with another problem. There's an existing house on the property."

"How much?"

"$2,000,000."

"Whew!"

"Yeah, but that still leaves $2,000,000 to demolish the existing structure and build new. I think we can make the numbers work.

"Will three acres be enough?"

"There's the rub. We'll need to engage an architect to make that determination. Any ideas?"

"No, but ASU has a school of architecture. I'll check around."

"Agnes might know one."

Grace laughed. "No doubt. She's something else, huh?"

"Yep."

I won the sparring match, but it wasn't easy. I had to pull some unusual aerobatics out of my distant past to counter Sifu and James's coordinated assault. And Sifu wasn't the major problem. The sparring exercises I'd done with James had made him aware of many of my moves, and I think he'd planned counters to them in his mind before the match started.

James and I sat in the kwoon's lounge after the match and sipped aromatic green tea.

"Ridiculous," James grumbled.

"What?" I said.

"You used your cudgel as a ladder and then pulled it up into the air with you. Nobody can do that."

I chuckled. "It's a very old trick."

"Yeah, like running up a wall."

"I let gravity work for me. That's all."

"How."

"Speed takes me up the wall; gravity pulls me down. At the moment the force of gravity starts to win, I use the gravitational force, flip over backwards with a half-twist, and I face my opponent on the way down, which happened to be you today, James. I faced you, but I was still in the air. The move surprised you and gave me a small advantage that I used against you as I returned to the mats. You're very good." I looked around. We were alone. I lowered my voice and said, "Better than Sifu."

He nodded. "Barely. Could you handle three of us?"

"Sparring, no. In a real fight, maybe... likely. But in a real fight with you, I would lose." I huffed a laugh. "You would shoot me."

James cracked up. "Yep," he said.

"How can I hire an investigator and..."

"Patience, grasshopper," he said with a grin. "Enjoy your tea; then show me how to run up walls, and I'll introduce you to a man."

"All right."

"Do you trust me, Brent?" James said as he drove me to meet the man who would hopefully identify my parents' killer.

"Yes," I said.

"Just like that. No qualifiers?"

"No qualifiers."

"Good, because some trust is necessary. I will introduce you using a pseudonym. Let's see, how about I call you Ken Stiles?"

"Okay. May I assume the man you'll introduce will also be using a pseudonym?"

"You may. Actually, he'll introduce himself. I don't know what name he'll give you. Tell him what you want him to do — in detail. He will either take the job or decline it. I have no control over his decision. If he takes the job, he'll tell you his fee. He doesn't work cheap, but he's the best at what he does. If you agree to this fee, he will instruct you regarding payment method, most likely some wire transfers, different amounts to different accounts over a period of time. The money won't linger in those accounts. It will be moved immediately, probably to offshore accounts. Where it goes from there, would be anyone's guess, but be assured that it will be extremely difficult to track, let alone be tied to you or the investigation. Trust is necessary because this meeting will be your only contact with this man, and there will be no formal, written contract."

"Everything you've said so far is fine with me, James, except I'll want progress reports."

"Tell him, not me," he said as he turned the car off the street onto a private driveway. He pushed a remote, and a garage door opened. "Don't step out of the car until the garage door closes."

One car already occupied the garage, which made James's car a tight fit. The garage door came down, and James and I struggled getting out of his car. The house wasn't occupied, I figured. The garage was pristine, no tools, nothing being stored. A safe house, I assumed. I followed James through a small utility room, down a hall into the family room. He motioned me to take a seat.

"Hot tea?" he asked.

I nodded and sat on one of two leather sofas, buttery brown in color. They had a new smell to them, like a new car. Probably because they're leather, I reasoned. No art on the walls. The furniture was new and sparse. A safe house that hadn't been used yet, not for overnight occupants anyway.

James returned carrying two cups of tea. A large man followed him. Fifty-five to sixty years old, the man had to weigh over three hundred pounds. His jaws were half again as wide as the upper part of his head, small blue eyes, jowls jiggled as he walked, and although he was fat, he didn't lumber.

"Mr. Stiles," he said and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Tom Hagar."

I rose to my feet and took his meaty hand, a hand that made mine disappear, but he had a gentle touch. Like a woman's, I thought.