Never Love a Naked P.I.

“I hear you did good, bozo,” she said, as she smiled in gratitude. “Thanks.”

“The old guy was really excited by this stuff,” he said. He gave a dismissive shrug, but his eyes shone. “And the prof couldn’t stop yapping enough. Maybe…” His look drifted inward. She didn’t recall ever having seen Nathanthink before. He justdid. “Maybe that model guy in last night’s class…” He shook his head as though just as surprised at his reactions as she. “Y’know, I’m kinda looking forward to what ole Antonio might come up with tomorrow night. Who was the suit that drug you out?”

Amanda’s heart skipped a beat. The life drawing classes at the League were held twice a week. The “suit” would be “un-suited” again tomorrow.

“Another money man,” she fibbed. “They’re throwing the stuff at us, thanks to your wicked, wicked ways with a drawing pen. Don’t get any smart ideas: your contract’s iron clad.”

His look was totally devoid of the usual self-interested smirk. “Thanks… Amanda. You’ve pretty much saved my ass again. Between you and the professor…” The old Nathan quickly squelched the glimmer of a buried smirk, but not before Amanda got in a quick hug of appreciation.

“We’re saving each other, buddy. That’s what friends use friends for.”

She went into her office and firmly closed the door.

Drunk with accomplishment was one thing. And Nathan being civil? Now, how was she supposed to spy on her friends?

Amanda stared at her hands, resting on her desk, her fingertips still tingling with the remembered feel of Marc’s warm palms underneath. The heat circulated in her chest. She felt a slight constriction in the depths of her throat and another sting behind her eyes.

I must be coming down with something.

No, Ace. You ain’t coming down with it. You GOT it.

WHAT A glorious day, Marc thought as the cab inched its way through the cacophony of Manhattan traffic. Crisp, bright light glinted off the proliferation of soaring phallic architecture. Clean, fresh, on-the-verge-of-spring air filled his lungs. Rich, healthy blood pumped in his veins.

The cab jolted as the driver bellowed a few well-chosen Pakistani epithets at the blocking taxi in front of him.

I love this city. LA is a helluva lot easier. But New York is… New York.He began to hum happily to himself.

“OKAY, TROOPS, this seems the best way to let you all know what’s going on.” Amanda sat on the front edge of her desk and surveyed the small group she had called into her office.

“Ohmigod, we’ve been bought out, right?” The receptionist’s voice cut through the general murmuring. “It’s the good-looking guy with the glasses, right?”

Amanda smiled. “Mindy, you’ve been influenced by my fine young assistant’s too many over-the-top reactions to things that are not that big a deal.”

“Come on, boss lady. It’s a big deal. You don’t call us into a private confab unless somebody’s hand has been in the till or worse,” Nathan commented, as he slouched in a chair busily scribbling on a pad.

The professor looked concerned. Jimmy looked eager.

“Someone has been going though my files. There was no sign of forced entry so I can only assume it was someone who had access to the office. Do any of you have any idea who, or why, someone might want to do such a thing? Nothing is missing that I can determine.”

The professor blanched. Jimmy looked excited. Mindy gasped. Nathan glanced up from his sketching with a frown. “Your files? Why? What the hell is in your files?”

“Records of sales, contracts. Documents that require a hard copy, a signature. Everything else is in the mainframe and available at everyone’s computer. To everyone at Double A, for that matter. We’re on a network.”

“You mean like who bought what books from us? Who we sold stuff to? Projected series? Stuff like that?” Jimmy was getting into it. “Sounds like illustrated-novel publishing espionage to me. Competitors trying to get the jump on us.” He nodded his head sagely, satisfied they were in the thick of big-city doings.

Professor Angeli sat forward on his chair. “We are somewhat lax about security. It does sound feasible that someone might have secured the proper keys. If nothing’s missing, was there a particular section of the files that seemed to have drawn the intruder’s special attention?”

Amanda ran her fingers under her shoulder-length hair to rub the back of her head. “Not that I could determine. Just general rummaging. Several of the posters were dislodged. As if they were looking for something that might have been hidden under the backing. Can’t figure it out. Though Jimmy’s suggestion does make a kind of sense.”

“I agree,” the professor added with finality.

Nathan shrugged and went back to sketching as Mindy glanced from one to the other, impressed with the efficiency with which they were solving the problem.

“We must be particularly careful of our projected projects. Several competitors would be more than delighted to get their hands on young Jimmy’s wonderful writing and,” the professor hastily added at Nathan’s scowl, “our chief artist’s brilliant illustrations.”

“Gee, this is kind of creepy, isn’t it?” The receptionist bounced eagerly on her chair. The phone rang. “I should take that outside, right?”

“Thanks, Mindy, and you better head back to reception. We don’t want anyone sneaking in while our backs are turned.”

“Right.”

“Thanks, all. You’re probably right. I’ll have the locks changed and I’m sure that’ll take care of that.”

The professor chuckled. “Let’s hope our pilferer doesn’t possess the dexterity of one of our nimble-fingered band of artists.”

Nathan’s slouching body stiffened.

“What do you mean? Someone we know here picks locks?” Amanda asked.

“How quick you are, my dear. But let’s not speak about that now,” he said, his voice rich with shared conspiracy. “The answer I would guess would be a surprising one.”

“Not all that surprising.” Nathan said. He sat up stiffly, looking annoyed.

“Nathan, you pick locks? But…”

The professor was totally nonplused. “I… I was referring to Mr. Wilde.”

“Mr. Wilde?”

“And me,” Nathan admitted. “The old guy taught me everything I know. I could crack Fort Knox.”

“I DON’T care if it is the damned Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Marc’s grim smile was deadly and his low voice equally threatening. “Don’t use that supercilious big-brother-putting-down-the-stupid-younger-sibling tone, little buddy. It tends to get my dander up.”

David blanched as nearby assistants turned from the art work they were hanging to take note. “Don’t make a scene.”

“You never learn, do you?” Marc started out of the closed gallery, heading past the alert guards.

“Marc, please.” David made a resigned conciliatory gesture. “I’m under a lot of stress here. Bear with me.”

Marc stopped and met the admonishing gaze of one of the larger guards.

Back off, dork. I could drop you with one chop.He turned back toward his abject brother.As abject as he’s capable of being.

“Is something wrong, doctor?” The large guard moved menacingly in Marc’s direction as he spoke to David.

“Yeah.” Marc’s intent look froze the man in his tracks. “You’re intruding on a private discussion and I’d hate to have to call to your supervisor’s attention how you overstepped your authority with a member of the public.”

“Oh, God.” David hurried to interpose himself. “Everything’s fine, Manchetti. Thank you. This gentleman’s… no, it’s me… I… Thank you. Please go back to your post.”