Gil got up from his desk and went into the outer office when Deborah announced in a frosty voice that Jarlayne had arrived. Automatically, he fixed his tie and straightened the roll of his cuffs. The two women were smiling at one another like a pair of feline predators protecting their territories. Gil knew they both respected one another and at times could even be friends, but they always seemed to be cautiously defensive as though guarding some unknown prize. In his fantasy, he was that prize.

"Jarlayne, how've you been?" He grinned and gave her a brief embrace catching the flash from Deborah as she observed the informal greeting.

"Marvelous...or so I'm told." She smiled widely, turning the bulk of it on Deborah.

"Uh yeah- come on in the office. You have something for us?" Gil ushered her inside as quickly as she would permit. Deb, how about some coffee...?"

"By all means, Pet." Her look said: Just wait.

Jarlayne recounted her tracking down of Davis Tubbs and her conclusion that, if the tapes were faked, he was the man that faked them. Jarlayne assured Gil that she had not just chosen one name and presented it as the final choice. He parried, playing devil's advocate, but she documented her investigation with a list of contacts and conversations she'd had with a number of sound engineering people in the industry and the fact that he was linked to WesCat via Marvision and Peter Delacourte. All of them agreed that Davis Tubbs was one, if not the best in the business.

"Not only that, he got very antsy when I suggested a reference or a sample. Usually, I can get that kind of information with a flash of thigh. Mister Tubbs, while interested, immediately chilled."

"That must have hurt." Deborah showed a sweet face as she set a mug of coffee in front of Jarlayne and leaned across to give Gil his.

"Aahh, Deb, could you bring in the Cathcart file please." He shooed her out with his eyes.

Deborah returned with the file and sat in the chair next to Jarlayne. "Gil is welded to the idea that Brian could not possibly be guilty so we are approaching all our theories from that aspect. I hope you can help me make him take a more balanced viewpoint. Like looking at the facts."

"I'd be happy to help you get Gil to look at anything from a balanced viewpoint."

Deborah sighed and gave her a hint of a smile. "Well I guess between us, we should be able to manage something."

"Between us—definitely." Jarlayne grinned widely.

"You ladies should give it a rest one of these days," Gil groaned.

"Then where would you boys be?" She picked up her mug and held it front of her face, giggling at his expression.

They spent another half hour studying the files and making copious notes about directions they might explore but in the end they had to admit that unless they could conclusively tie Davis Tubbs to Moira Weston, the tapes would remain legitimate.

"I've had her phone records dumped. I've had Brian's dumped. All I can find backs up what she claims... that he called her when she said he did... at least he called that number. And there is no record of a call from Moira to Brian on the eve of the killing."

"It's hard to say, Gil, but maybe things are exactly as they appear. Maybe Brian was trying to pry her shares loose."

"Maybe, but no bloody way did Brian threaten Barton Weston on the phone. Yes he probably wanted her shares but those tapes are fakes... I'll bet my life."

She set her mug down and stood up with a resigned look at Deborah. "Then I guess we need to find a link."

"I think you should steer clear of Delacourte until we have a solid footing on this, Jar. If he sees you as part of our investigation we could get shut out of that avenue."

"Is he a suspect?"

"Weston's wife has to be the main player but they're all suspects, only because we don't really have one that's firm and I don't think she could orchestrate something with a guy like your Tubbs by herself. Someone else is involved."

•••

Peter looked at the information he'd received on Jarlayne's car plate. She was a private investigator. She lived and worked out of the same address. She lived alone, and she was currently on the payroll of Brian's lawyer. Pity, he thought, it might have been very interesting to take Jarlayne up on her offer. He shut out his office lights and locked up, taking the elevator down to the lobby instead of the garage. Down the block from the office building he found a public phone and placed a call, explaining what he had discovered.

"I'll see that it's taken care of, so just forget about Miss Brighton."

"Is Myles suspicious at all? It's a bitch juggling both him and Arnold. That son-of-a-bitch is constantly harping about his cash; he's not interested in waiting much longer." Cybrus Corporation had barely waited for the smoke to clear before renewing their approach publicly and Arnold announced to Peter that he wanted his cash buyout with future options for WesCat shareholders to happen fast. Peter was dashing about placating clients and interested investors, promising answers as soon as possible charging while keeping Myles busy burning oil getting the papers in order thinking it would still be a stock merger.

"My husband is a fool, forget him. The cash is important, Peter, it makes everything so much simpler, right?"

"Indeed, but Jesus, Miriam, it's risky as hell. Arnold would track us to the ends of the earth, forget the WesCat people."

"Don't worry about that, Arnold won't do anything to jeopardize the sale, and by the time he finds out we'll be gone. How close are we?"

"Very. Once the share distribution is finalized. Arnold will have to assign his payment from the trust account that I set up or we won't be able to touch it."

"He'll do it."

"You're so bloody sure?"

"Pessimists never prosper."

"I thought that was cheaters."

"Well, we're proving that wrong, aren't we darling?"

•••

Myles followed the maitre d' through the dining room to the front desk where guests of Café le Plume were required to check their cell phone numbers under personal registration, a strict requirement of the restaurant's policy. A rule Myles applauded since it maintained his anonymity in cases such as this.

"Thank you, Claude," Myles said to the maitre d' as he accepted his phone from the pretty young woman behind the counter. He winked broadly and walked several feet away, speaking softly but with annoyance.

"There's been a development. Thought you should know before I go ahead."

"I'm having dinner, couldn't this have waited?" Out of the corner of his eye he watched the young woman watching him with interest.

"Fine with me. Eat your brains out."

"Wait! Wait, don't hang up." Myles turned back to the corner to ensure privacy. "I'm here now, what's the problem?"

Howard told him about seeing the black woman at Tubbs' place and that he turned up information that she was a P.I. and a good friend of Gil Petchorik, Brian Cathcart's lawyer. Myles chewed his lip and hugged the phone to his ear. This was not good. It was so not good.

"Do you think he told her anything?"

"Beats me."

"You might be a little more forthcoming, Howard. In your professional opinion, what do you think?"

"He wouldn't tell her anything. What's the point if he wants to blackmail you?"

Not me, my friend. "Okay then the consensus is to continue as planned?"

"Say the word."

"Tonight."

"Call you soon." Myles heard him hang up and pulled a face. Soon. He hoped his dinner wouldn't be interrupted again; it was probably cold as it was. He thanked his lucky stars he'd only given Tillman a number and not a name, as soon as things were settled, his phone would be at the bottom of the river. He returned it to the woman with a subtle wink, augmenting it with a smile although his heart wasn't in it.