Zinnia

been a record of the Third Expedition because that one never took place.' Leo paused. 'The only thing that might exist-'

'Yes?'

'I suppose Chastain might have begun a journal for the Third at the time the plans were made for it. He might have recorded the preparations and plans before he killed himself.'

'Maybe that's what Morris found,' Zinnia mused. 'What happened to Professor DeForest?'

'He was forced to retire, as I told you. I think someone mentioned that there was some family money. He inherited an old estate. Far as I know, he's still living there.'

'And he's the only authority on the Third Expedition?'

'Let's put it this way, he's the guy who invented the legend. I wouldn't go so far as to call him an authority.'

'I see.' Zinnia tapped the end of a pencil against the desk.

'Hey, Zin?'

'Yes?'

Leo's voice took on a more somber note. 'Do you think Nick Chastain will bother you?'

'What do you mean, bother me?'

'From what I've heard, he's kind of mysterious. Very reclusive. No one knows much about him.'

'I think that's the way he likes it,' Zinnia said. 'What's more, I'm sure he intends to stay as mysterious and reclusive as possible. Which means that he'll keep well clear of me. The last thing he'd want to do is draw more attention to himself by extending his association with the infamous Scarlet Lady.'

'Hmm.'

'Think about it,' she said, warming to her own logic. 'If he were to start bothering me, as you put it, he'd only risk more public exposure. There would be more speculation. His picture might show up in the papers again. It's the last thing he'd want.'

'Yeah, I guess.'

'Trust me, he'll stay out of sight. He knows that so long as he doesn't add jelly-ice to the fire, the story will die.'

'What about you?' Leo still sounded worried.

'I can avoid the reporters until they give up and go away. It's family members who are going to be difficult, not Mr. Chastain.'

'If you say so.'

'Don't worry, I've heard the last of him.'

Zinnia said goodbye and hung up the phone. When it rang almost immediately, she jumped in her chair. She glared at it and waited for the answering machine to pick up the call.

'This is Nick Chastain. I assume you're there, screening calls, Zinnia. I would very much like to speak with you.'

She froze. Even through the answering machine, the sound of his voice sent a tingle of awareness across her nerve endings just as it had the previous night. Apparently her strange reaction to him had not been merely a product of the darkness and the unsettling circumstances.

Nick ceased speaking but he did not hang up. He just waited.

She hesitated a few seconds but in the end she could not stand it.

'Damn.' She composed herself and reached for the receiver as gingerly as if it were a live spider-frog.

'Yes, Mr. Chastain?'

'Please call me, Nick. After what we went through together last night I think we should be on a first-name basis, don't you?'

The thread of humor in his words bore no resemblance to Duncan Luttrell's easy laughter, she thought. Nick's amusement came from some dark remote realm, a place where humor was in extremely short supply, and what there was of it had gotten twisted and stunted from lack of sunlight.

'What a surprise.' She tried to infuse a blase tone into her words. 'I just told my brother that you were unlikely to call because you would be busy putting as much distance between the two of us as possible. I got the idea that you prefer to keep a very low profile, Mr. Chastain.'

He ignored that. 'I assume you're being pestered by reporters?'

'There were some phone calls this morning which I ignored and I think the Synsation news van is still parked outside my apartment but it's nothing I can't handle. What about you?'

'I employ people to do useful tasks such as keeping the press away from me.'

'Yes, of course.' Zinnia got to her feet. Dragging the telephone cord behind her, she went to the window to look down at the Synsation van. 'How convenient.'

'I can arrange to send someone to your apartment to do the same for you.'

Zinnia had a sudden vision of the hulking Feather stationed downstairs in the lobby. The manager and her neighbors would never forgive her.

'For heaven's sake, don't do that.' She frowned at the distinct hint of panic in her voice. She cleared her throat. 'I mean, thank you very much, but that won't be necessary. The reporters will go away when they get bored.'

'Maybe. But that could take a while.'

'You know something? If those journalists paid half this much attention to Morris's murder, the police might be a little more motivated to do a really thorough investigation.'

'I'm sure the cops are giving it their best.'

'I'm not so sure about that.' Zinnia turned and stalked back to her airy little Early Exploration Period desk. 'I think that Detective Anselm is content to wait until a likely suspect wanders into his office and confesses.'

'Anselm's a good man. He'll pursue any leads he uncovers.'

'I hope you're right, but I'm afraid he's going to put the case on the back burner because it looks like just another money-for-drugs robbery.'

There was a short silence on the other end of the line.

'Do you still believe there's more to it?' Nick finally asked without any inflection at all in his voice.

'I was awake for hours thinking about it.' She sank slowly back down onto her chair. 'Don't you find it awfully coincidental that poor Morris got killed just as he was making final arrangements to sell the Chastain journal?'

'There you go with the conspiracy theories again. Are you sure there's no matrix-talent gene in your family?'

'This is not amusing, Mr. Chastain.' She frowned. 'I wonder where he hid the journal.'

'You're not the only one who would like to know what happened to it.'

The grim determination in his words did nothing to calm her restless nerves. 'It may not turn up for a long time. Don't forget, Morris was a matrix. Very big on puzzles and secrets. No one can hide things as well as a matrix.'

'And no one can find things that are hidden as well as a matrix,' Nick said.

'True. You know the old saying, it takes a matrix-talent thief to catch a matrix-talent thief. Perhaps you could hire one to help you locate the journal. A matrix-talent, I mean, not a real thief.'

'I'll look into the possibility.' Nick paused. 'If I do turn up a matrix-talent who can assist me in locating the journal I'll need to hire a prism who can focus for him. Would you be available?'

The thought of getting involved with Nick Chastain again brought back visions of the long empty elevator shaft she'd imagined last night. Her stomach did flip-flops as she saw herself stepping out into midair.

'I don't know.' That sounded weak, even to her. 'I'd have to look at my schedule. I've been very busy with my interior design business lately. I'm not taking on a lot of focus work these days. Morris was something of an exception.' It was getting worse. She was on the brink of sounding like a blithering idiot.

What was it about Nick Chastain that set her senses on edge and stirred the hair at the nape of her neck, she wondered. Other than the fact that he was dangerous, mysterious, and reclusive and the two of them had discovered a body together, of course.

'Has it occurred to you that if your hunch is right and there's more to Fenwick's murder than Detective Anselm thinks there is, locating the journal would be a major step toward finding the killer?' Nick asked.