Zinnia

She would call. He was good at this sort of thing. He knew she would call.

But he could feel something shifting again in the matrix. Zinnia was proving to be unpredictable.

Chapter 8

Zinnia poured coff-tea into the dainty antique Early Explorations Period cup. 'Don't worry, Aunt Willy, the Synsation van is the only one left out in front. In another day or so it will be gone. This kind of news loses its impact fast.'

'It's outrageous.' Wilhelmina accepted the cup and saucer with the arrogant grace that had been bred into her bones. 'One would think that the police would do something about those dreadful little insects who dare to call themselves journalists. In my day they showed a proper degree of respect for privacy. Now, nothing is sacred, not even one's personal life.'

Zinnia regarded her with irritation and admiration. Wilhelmina was a commanding presence in any setting. Seated here amid Zinnia's collection of airy, whimsical Early Explorations Period furnishings, she was a monument to family authority. Zinnia had to concede that Willy was the reigning matriarch of the Spring clan.

A large woman of statuesque proportions, Wilhelmina transcended any common notions of beauty.

She was endowed with the sort of strong, indomitable features that would have done credit to a statue of a First Generation Founder.

The decline and fall of the Spring family fortunes in recent years had only served to shore up Wilhelmina's aura of unbending determination. She was a woman with a mission. She would not rest until she had seen the bottom line of the family finances and the social position of the Springs restored to their former impressive levels.

'And as for you, Zinnia, whatever were you about last night? How did you come to be in the company of a common gambler?'

'Actually, Mr. Chastain is rather uncommon and I got the impression that he doesn't gamble.' Zinnia pursed her lips. 'I wouldn't put it past him to take a few calculated risks, though.'

'Of course he's a gambler. He owns a casino, for heaven's sake.'

'Yes, but I don't think he plays any of the games.' Zinnia sipped her coff-tea. 'Mr. Chastain prefers to be in control of things.'

'Be that as it may, the man is little more than a gangster. Hardly what one would call respectable. You had no business being seen with him.' Wilhelmina's eyes snapped. 'And whatever possessed you to become involved in a murder investigation?'

'I'm not involved, Aunt Willy. I'm just one of the two people who found the body. Mr. Fenwick was a client of mine.'

'And that's another thing. You know I don't approve of your part-time job with Psynergy, Inc.'

'I need the money,' Zinnia said bluntly. 'I've explained that to you. My interior design business fell off rather drastically after the Eaton scandal. I'm only now beginning to rebuild.'

Wilhelmina looked pained. 'It seems we've had to endure one catastrophe after another since we lost Edward and Genevieve. And most of the disasters have been at your hands, young woman.'

Zinnia said nothing. She merely raised her brows.

Wilhelmina put her cup firmly down on the saucer. 'Which brings me to the crux of the matter. We must stop the downward spiral of events. You are the only one in a position to save this family.'

'The family will survive, Aunt Willy. No one's starving. You and Uncle Stanley seem to be managing off the annuities Great Uncle Richmond left for you. Cousin Maribeth is making ends meet with the profits from her boutique. Leo will graduate soon and I'm sure he'll be offered a research assistant position at the university. We're all going to make it.'

'There is a difference between mere survival and assuming one's proper position in the world,' Wilhelmina retorted. 'Speaking of Leo. You've been a bad influence on him, Zinnia. You have not encouraged him to take an interest in business.'

'Leo was born for academia, not the business world.' It was an old argument, one that bored Zinnia, but her aunt would never admit defeat.

Wilhelmina regarded her with the sort of gaze that was meant to instill backbone in those she considered to be lacking in that quality. 'Sometimes events demand that one make sacrifices for the sake of the family. I'm sure you know what I mean.'

'Indeed, I do.' Zinnia gave her a glowing smile. 'You'll be pleased to know that Duncan Luttrell phoned just before you arrived. He asked me to have dinner with him tonight.'

'Mr. Luttrell called?' Wilhelmina looked as if she hardly dared to believe her ears. 'In spite of those horrid stories in the tabloids linking your name with Chastain?'

'Yes. He was very sympathetic.'

'Thank God.'

'Don't get your hopes up, Aunt Willy. Remember, I'm unmatchable.'

'Let me be frank here, Zinnia. Everyone knows that in certain circles marriages are occasionally contracted without the assistance of a marriage agency. Especially when there are important family considerations.'

'But surely you wouldn't want me to take such a risk, Aunt Willy. Even assuming I could persuade some man to take a chance on me. I mean, it's my whole future we're talking about. I can't imagine anything worse than being shackled for life to a man I couldn't love and who didn't love me. Why, it would be a living hell.'

'Skip the melodrama, dear. It may interest you to know that before the Founders established the institution of the match-making agency, our ancestors on Earth routinely married without the guidance of syn-psych counselors.'

Zinnia burst into laughter, nearly spilling her tea. 'That's just an old myth, Aunt Willy, and we both know it. No civilization that was advanced enough to colonize other planets would run their private lives in such a primitive fashion.'

Zinnia waited until after her aunt had left before she tried Newton DeForest's number again. It was the third time she'd attempted to phone him that day. No one had answered her earlier calls.

She counted the rings. After the fifth, she reluctantly started to replace the receiver.

'Hello?' The man on the other end of the line sounded remarkably cheerful and a little breathless.

'Professor DeForest?'

'Yes. Sorry, I was out in the garden when the phone rang. Who is this?'

'My name is Zinnia Spring, sir. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm doing some research on the islands of the Western Seas and I understand you're an authority on Chastain's Third Expedition. Would it be possible to talk to you about it?'

There was a pause. 'What was your name?'

'Zinnia Spring.'

'Are you an academic, then, Miss Spring?' DeFor-est sounded suddenly hopeful.

'I'm afraid not. I'm an interior designer.'

'Oh.' There was a short pause while he assimilated that piece of news. 'Why in the world would an interior designer be interested in Chastain's Third?'

'It's a personal interest, Professor DeForest. A hobby, you might say. I'm fascinated with the legend and I want to learn as much as I can.' She allowed a delicate pause. 'I'm told that you are the leading authority on the Third, sir.'

'I suppose I could spare some time tomorrow.'

Zinnia seized a pen. 'That's wonderful. May I have your address?'

At eight-thirty that evening Zinnia smiled at Duncan Luttrell across a snowy white tablecloth. 'I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I've been trapped in my apartment most of the day. I left once, early this morning, and was almost cornered by a crew from one of the tabloids.'

'You're safe here at the Founders' Club. The staff knows how to keep reporters at bay.' Duncan grinned. 'I won't claim that the food is still the best in New Seattle because Chastain's Palace stole the chef six months ago,