on as partners seven years ago. But his strong sense of loyalty had kept him from taking the easy way out. Because Katherine Frye had given him his start in the Napa Valley thirty-five years ago, he felt he owed her the time it would take to personally preside over the orderly and dignified dissolution of the Frye family empire.
Three weeks.
Then he could spend more time on the things he enjoyed: reading good books, swimming, flying the new airplane that he'd bought, learning to cook new dishes, and indulging in an occasional weekend in Reno. Ken and Roy handled most of the law firm's business these days, and they did a damned good job of it. Joshua hadn't plunged into full retirement yet, but he sat on the edge of it a lot, dangling his legs in a big pool of leisure time that he wished he had found and used when Cora was still alive.
At 4:20, content with his progress on the Frye estate and soothed by the magnificent view of the autumn valley beyond his window, he got up from his chair and went out to the reception area. Karen Farr was pounding the hell out of an IBM Selectric II, which would have responded equally well to a feather touch. She was a slip of a girl, pale and blue-eyed and soft-voiced, but she attacked every chore with tremendous energy and strength.
'I am about to treat myself to an early whiskey,' Joshua told her. 'When people call and ask for me, please tell them I am in a disgraceful drunken condition and cannot come to the phone.'
'And they'll all say, 'What? Again?''
Joshua laughed. 'You're a lovely and charming young woman, Miss Farr. Such a delightfully quick mind and tongue for such a mere wisp of a lass.'
'And such a lot of malarkey you've got for a man who isn't even Irish. Go and have your whiskey. I'll keep the bothersome hordes away.'
In his office again, he opened the corner bar, put ice in a glass, added a generous measure of Jack Daniel's Black Label. He had taken only two sips of the brew when someone knocked on his office door.
'Come in.'
Karen opened the door. 'There's a call--'
'I thought I was permitted to have my drink in peace.'
'Don't be a grouch,' she said.
'It's part of my image.'
'I told him you weren't in. But then when I heard what he wanted, I thought maybe you should talk to him. It's weird.'
'Who is it?'
'A Mr. Preston from the First Pacific United Bank in San Francisco. It's about the Frye estate.'
'What's so weird?'
'You better hear it from him,' she said.
Joshua sighed. 'Very well.'
'He's on line two.'
Joshua went to his desk, sat down, picked up the phone, and said, 'Good afternoon, Mr. Preston.'
'Mr. Rhinehart?'
'Speaking. What can I do for you'?'
'The business office at Shade Tree Vineyards informs me that you're the executor of the Frye estate.'
'That's correct.'
'Are you aware that Mr. Bruno Frye maintained accounts at our main office here in San Francisco?'
'The First Pacific United? No. I wasn't aware of that.'
'A savings account, a checking account, and a safe-deposit box,' Preston said.
'He had several accounts in several banks. He kept a list of them. But yours wasn't on the list. And I haven't run across any passbooks or canceled checks from your bank.'
'I was afraid of that,' Preston said.
Joshua frowned. 'I don't understand. Are there problems with his accounts at Pacific United?'
Preston hesitated, then said, 'Mr. Rhinehart, did Mr. Frye have a brother?'
'No. Why do you ask?'
'Did he ever employ a look-alike?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Did he ever have need for a double, someone who could pass for him on fairly close inspection?'
'Are you pulling my leg, Mr. Preston?'
'I know it's a rather strange question. But Mr. Frye was a wealthy man. These days, what with terrorism on the rise and all sorts of crazies on the loose, wealthy people often have to hire bodyguards, and sometimes--not often; I admit it's rare; but in certain special cases--they even find it necessary to employ look-alikes for security reasons.'
'With all due respect for your fair city,' Joshua said, 'let me point out that Mr. Frye lived here in the Napa Valley, not in San Francisco. We don't have that sort of crime here. We have a much different lifestyle from that which you ... enjoy. Mr. Frye had no need for a double, and I'm certain he did not have one. Mr. Preston, what on
