Amaryllis

Gifford blinked, clearly startled, then his expression grew thoughtful. 'That's an odd question. Why do you want to know?'

'Last Friday night I got a phone call. Anonymous. The caller implied that there was some mystery surrounding Professor Landreth. I decided to look into the matter.'

'Since when do you do security work? That sounds like a job for the cops.'

'Their investigation turned up no indication of foul play.'

'Most likely because there wasn't any foul play,' Gifford muttered. 'The only one who might think there was some- thing suspicious about Landreth's death was his secretary. Irene Dunley had a crush on him for years. She's probably having a tough time accepting the fact that he's gone.'

It was Amaryllis's turn to blink. 'I know Mrs. Dunley was very loyal to Professor Landreth. Fond of him, even. But what makes you think that she was in love with him?'

Gifford grimaced. 'I walked into her office one day right after you left the faculty. She was in tears. She had just learned that Landreth had some kind of standing appointment with a sleazy syn-sex stripper who works in a club in Founders Square. I think she had found a note about one of his appointments and had been curious enough to call the number. You know what they say about curiosity.'

Amaryllis was speechless.

Gifford was amused. 'What's the matter? Can't imagine old Landreth with a syn-sex stripper? Don't you know that the prudish, straitlaced types always turn out to have the most interesting tastes when it comes to sex?' His mouth twisted. 'Present company excepted, of course.'

Amaryllis kept her shoulders very straight. She would not allow herself to be embarrassed by Gifford. He was the one who should have been ashamed of himself. 'Will you please answer my question? Did you see Professor Landreth that day?'

'It's none of your business, but the answer is no, I did not see him.'

'According to his calendar, he had an appointment with you for three o'clock.'

'Did Mrs. Dunley tell you that?'

'No. I saw the calendar entry myself. Your name was written in Professor Landreth's own hand.'

'Was it? I can't imagine why. He and I had absolutely nothing to say to each other. In case you didn't hear about it, the two of us nearly came to blows a couple of months ago. I resigned my position in the department because of that old bastard.'

'Why did you dislike him so much?'

'Are you kidding?' Gifford raised his eyes toward the ceiling. 'Let me count the ways. Landreth may have been a good researcher at one time, but he had been past his prime for years. He refused to move with the times. His methods were antiquated, to say the least. He wouldn't allow even minor changes in the way things were done in the department. And he was obsessed with his damned professional standards.'

'He had every right to be obsessed with standards,' Amaryllis retorted. 'Professor Landreth virtually wrote the Code of Focus Ethics. He was almost single-handedly responsible for raising our profession to its present high regard. Why, if it hadn't been for him, you probably wouldn't be sitting behind that desk in this plush office.'

Gifford shook his head. 'You haven't changed a bit, have you. Pity. I would have thought that six months in the real world would have polished off some of the prissy naïveté.'

Amaryllis clutched her purse tightly and stood. 'You're certain you didn't see Professor Landreth the day he died?'

'Positive. Believe me, I would have gone out of my way to avoid a meeting with the old coot. He was the last man on St. Helens I wanted to see.'

The world seemed to be full of people who had never cared for Jonathan Landreth. Amaryllis turned without a word and strode to the door.

'Amaryllis?'

She paused, one hand on the knob. 'Yes?'

'I saw your picture in the paper. You were with Lucas Trent at the museum reception last Thursday night.'

'What about it?'

Gifford gave her a knowing look. 'I'm assuming it wasn't an agency date, although that was the implication. You and Trent aren't a very likely pair. So it must have been business. Were you focusing for him that night?'

'I don't discuss clients.'

'So it was business.' Gifford nodded, apparently satisfied. 'I thought as much. Word has it that Trent is a class nine, but the poor guy's just a detector. What was it, some kind of security matter?'

'I said, I don't discuss business.'

Gifford gave her a goading smile. 'Did he suspect that some arch criminal talent was plotting to steal those artifacts he discovered? Or was it closer to home? I hear one of his vice presidents just left the company with no notice. Someone named Miranda Locking.'

No one had ever said that Gifford was stupid, Amaryllis reminded herself. 'You're awfully well informed.'

'I make it a point to be informed,' Gifford said softly. 'It's good for business.'

'Excuse me. I've got another appointment.' Amaryllis opened the door.

'One more thing, Amaryllis. If you ever decide that you want to make some real money in the focus game, you're welcome to apply for a position here at Unique Prisms. I pay top dollar. You can make as much money in six months working for me as you'll make with Clementine Malone in a year.'

Logic and intuition came together in a flash of under- standing. 'It was one of your people who was working with Senator Sheffield the night of the reception, wasn't it?'

'How did you know about Sheffield?' Gifford's eyes narrowed. 'Did Trent use his talent to spy on him?'

'I learned about Senator Sheffield's talent quite by accident.' She could be cool and obscure, too, Amaryllis thought. 'He's strong, isn't he? A class ten?'

'Who knows? He refuses to be tested.' Gifford's smile came and went. 'Claims it's an invasion of privacy. Says the founders would never have tolerated such a blatant intrusion on the rights of the individual.'

'So, it was one of your people holding the focus for him that night. That explains a few things.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I knew I recognized the prism's style and technique,' Amaryllis said. 'I thought at first that it must have been someone Professor Landreth had trained, but it could just as well have been someone you trained. Your techniques would have a signature very similar to Landreth's because Landreth trained you.'

'You know, Amaryllis, you really should consider my offer of a job. We run a very exclusive service here at Unique Prisms. We're highly selective when it comes to our clients.'

'Selective?' Amaryllis asked coldly. 'Or unethical?'

Gifford gave her an inquiring look. 'Are you accusing me of not upholding the code, my dear Amaryllis? I'm deeply wounded.'

'One of your prisms helped Sheffield focus charisma the other night.'

'Everyone knows that charisma is not a psychic talent. Just a personality trait.' Gifford spread his hands. 'What can I say? Sheffield has terrific voter appeal.'

'You can call it anything you like. All I know is that Sheffield is a powerful talent. He may very well have been using that talent to get campaign contributions.'

'So? That's what politicians do.'

'He burned out his prism, Gifford. Doesn't that bother you at all?'

'There are risks in every business. Prism burnout is a short-term problem.'

'Focusing a talent with the intent to defraud is not just unethical, it's illegal.'

Gifford's smile did not reach his eyes. 'I repeat, charisma is not a talent. It's not listed in any professional directory of talents. It has never been documented as a psychic ability. It's just a personality trait. Rather like your prissy views on sex and prism ethics.'

Amaryllis flushed. 'I think I understand why you and Professor Landreth never got along very well, Gifford. Professor Landreth, after all, was a gentleman.'

'Such a gentleman that he kept a weekly standing appointment with a syn-sex stripper?'

Amaryllis went out the door and closed it quietly behind herself.