Full Tilt Page 8

  "I'm completely renovating a business. A large building with offices. I'll need the name of a good contractor and interior decorator to begin with. The place needs carpentry work, painting inside and out, actually a number of things before we put in new rugs and furniture. Oh, and I'll need new computers. Top-of-the-line stuff, mind you. I may need some specialized office equipment, as well."

  "Between my brothers and me, we can handle all your needs," the man said proudly. "Which building are we talking about?"

  "The Beaumont Gazette." Max waited.

  "The Gazette, huh? I'm afraid I don't do business with those folks anymore. They're a bunch of crazies. In fact, I've got an appointment to see my lawyer this morning concerning a little problem I'm having with them."

  Jamie winced. She would be forced to close down the newspaper.

  "Gee, that's too bad, Herman. I was counting on your help. Perhaps you could give me the name of someone else who could assist me."

  Herman was silent for a moment. "Tell you what. I don't know how you're connected to the newspaper, but you sound nice enough. Why don't you meet me at the store before I open today? I'm going to have a lot of pissed-off customers coming in so I won't be able to talk to you once I open up."

  "Yeah, I know about the advertisement," Max said. "I'm afraid it was a practical joke, but I can assure you Miss Swift had nothing to do with it."

  "That's no excuse," Herman said. "She's responsible for what's printed in her newspaper." He paused and his voice was softer when he spoke. " 'Course I heard what happened over there last night. Sorry to hear it."

  "Thanks, Herman. I've got an idea how you can avoid a crowd of angry customers."

  "I'm listening."

  "Put a wreath on your door."

  "Come again?"

  "No sin in closing if someone in the family has passed away," Max said, earning a dark look from Jamie.

  Herman chuckled. "Now, that's a new one."

  "Surely you have some long-lost aunt or uncle you could mourn."

  "We're going to take a loss."

  "You'll more than make it up with my business. Trust me."

  "It's eight-thirty now. Why don't you come on over, and we can talk."

  "Give me twenty minutes."

  Muffin disconnected the call. "Well, that proves two of my theories," she said. "Everybody has a price."

  "What's the other one?"

  "You have no soul. Put a wreath on the door. That really stinks, Max."

  Jamie nodded. "She's right."

  "Okay, so I can be unscrupulous at times, but this way we avoid a lawsuit, get the newspaper building fixed up and new equipment installed. It's a win-win situation. Oh, and, Muffin. I want a couple of security guards stationed inside the Gazette building pronto. Unless Frankie has already hired everyone in town," he added. "By the way, how are you coming along with that job I gave you? Almost finished?"

  Muffin sighed. "I'm working on it, Max, but it's going to take me a little while. This is no small task, and I've got technicians feeding me information twenty-four/seven. It's 'Muffin, do this; Muffin, do that.' I can't be expected to do everything. I need an assistant. Preferably a male one, with an English accent."

  Jamie glanced from Max to Muffin and back to Max. "What did you ask her to do?"

  "She's checking bank accounts and portfolios, both here and overseas, on half the people in this town."

  "And I'm supposed to have the information lickety-split," Muffin said. "I'm good, in fact, I'm damn good, but what he's asking is impossible."

  "Whose accounts are you looking into?" Jamie asked.

  "Mostly city officials," Max said. "You can't misappropriate tax dollars without involving people in high places."

  "Are you going to share the information with me when you get it?"

  "I don't know if you can be trusted."

  "You can just go jump in a lake, Holt." She noted the amused look on his face, but Jamie didn't think it was a bit funny. "You are really beginning to annoy me."

  "Welcome to my world," Muffin said. "I have to deal with him on a daily basis."

  "Now, Muffin," Max said. "You're going to make Jamie think badly of me, and I'll never win her over, despite her strong attraction to me."

  Muffin snorted.

  Jamie simply looked at him. "Has anybody ever told you that you have an ego the size of planet Earth? Darned if I've ever seen anything like it."

  "Think about it, Jamie. You and me, white sand, crystal-blue water, and—"

  "When pigs fly."

  Max laughed out loud. "I like a woman who plays hard to get. More of a challenge."

  Jamie shook her head in disbelief and looked out the side window.

  "So, what do you think?" he asked. "Think maybe we could be more than friends?"

  "You're being presumptuous," she replied. "I never agreed to be your friend. Besides, isn't it enough that you can have any woman you want? Do you have to have every woman you want?"

  "You're not every woman, Jamie. Far from it."

  "You don't know me."

  "I know enough. I know you're a tough, no-nonsense woman who gets the job done no matter what."

  "I'm flattered, Max, but I'm not interested. I believe in love and monogamy, words that haven't found their way into your vocabulary."

  "You've got me pegged all wrong."

  "I read People magazine."

  "You can't believe everything you read, darlin'. I'll admit I've had a few affairs, but I'm really a nice guy."

  "This is a pointless conversation, Max. I'm engaged."

  "I just can't imagine you married to someone like Phillip Standish."

  "What's wrong with Phillip?"

  "He lives with his mother, for one thing."

  "He lives on the family estate which he will inherit one day."

  "He seems too—" Max paused. "Predictable."

  "I like predictability."

  "You're a risk-taker like me. You mortgaged your family home to the hilt in order to save your newspaper from foreclosure. That takes guts."

  She looked at him. "How do you know about that?"

  "Are you surprised I would take the time to look into your financial dealings before investing in your company?"

  "What else do you know?"

  "I know you attended one of the best journalism schools in the country and graduated in the top five percent of your class. I also know you were offered a job with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, but you chose to come back to Beaumont."

  "I belong here. It's my home. It took me a while to realize it, but it's true."

  He turned into the parking lot of the Beaumont Gazette and pulled into an empty slot.

  Jamie went on. "I can certainly understand your checking the solubility of my company. I would have done the same thing. But I draw the line at delving into my personal life."

  "I would never do that," Max replied.

  "Thank you."

  "Max, may I have a word with you?" Muffin asked.

  "Later," he said.

  Jamie climbed from the car and closed the door behind her. She passed a patrol car. Inside, the deputy leaned against his seat, his cap over his face. Jamie banged on the window, and the man jumped and reached for his gun.

  "Jesus Christ, Jamie, you trying to get yourself shot?"

  "Wake up, Fred. You're supposed to be guarding this place. If you're going to sleep you may as well be sitting in the booth at Coot Hathaway's doughnut shop."

  "Give me a break," he said. "I've been out here all night."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't get much sleep, either."

  Max followed Jamie inside the building. Several employees had already arrived and were taking note of the damage. Vera was busy with the phones and handed Jamie a stack of messages. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "Dang thing hasn't stopped ringing all morning. I've tried to play down the shooting. I'm telling everybody it was an escaped convict who was trying to break into the place for food."

  Jamie
slumped. "Great idea, Vera. Next time I get a craving for a burger and fries I'll know right where to come."

  "Don't get fresh with me, young lady. I had to think of something fast. Lamar will like the escaped-convict story. Makes him sound more important."

  Jamie looked at her messages. She wished she had a Valium. "How are the others taking it?"

  "They're confused."

  "So am I." Nevertheless, Jamie knew they needed her reassurance.

  Max pulled her aside. "Look, I know things seem hopeless right now, but we can get through this."

  "We?"

  "I'm not going to just walk away when I can help."

  "I'm perfectly capable of handling my own problems."

  "Which is why I'm on my way to suck up to Herman Bates," he said. "Well, got to go." He winked at her and headed for the door.

  "What was that all about?" Vera asked as soon as Max left.

  "Max Holt thinks he's hot stuff."

  "He is hot stuff."

  "Well, he can be hot stuff someplace else because I've got work to do. I need to talk to the staff. Would you ask them to meet me in the conference room in ten minutes?" She went into her office. Shards of glass still covered the floor, but Lamar had seen to boarding up her window as he'd promised.

  Mike sailed through the front and into Jamie's office. He skidded to a stop. "What happened in here?"

  Jamie searched for the notepad she kept on hand. "I'm holding a meeting in the conference room in a few minutes. I'll explain everything then."

  * * * * *

  Jamie walked into the conference room and found her employees waiting. She quickly filled the group in on the previous evening's events. "I don't know why this person or persons targeted the newspaper office, but it happened. Chief Tevis has assigned several deputies to watch the place."

  "Do you think we're in danger?" Jamie's accountant asked.

  "I don't know, Helen, but everyone has a choice as to whether they want to stay or take a leave of absence until we get to the bottom of this."

  "Is Mr. Holt in on the investigation?"

  "Mr. Holt is my partner. I would assume most of you have heard of Maximillian Holt." They looked impressed. "As you know, he's quite successful in his business dealings, and we're lucky to have his financial backing, as well as his expertise. He's had a great deal of newspaper experience so I hope you'll cooperate with him." She paused so everyone could take it in. She was thankful Max wasn't around to hear her brag about him.

  "He's also going to update some of our equipment, including our computers. Much of what we have is obsolete."

  "You can say that again," Vera replied, earning a dark look from Jamie.

  "Mr. Holt has also generously offered to renovate this building and have the office painted and refurnished. With tasteful pieces," she added.

  The small crowd clapped.

  "That's not funny," Jamie said, although she broke into a smile. "Now, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask."

  Mike raised his hand. "Jamie, do you think the shooting had anything to do with the mayoral campaign? I understand Frankie Fontana has received threatening letters."

  "I don't know, Mike. Chief Tevis is looking into it. Like I said, if anyone feels uncomfortable working here after what happened, you're free to take leave until the investigation is over."

  "I'm not going anywhere," Vera said.

  "Me, neither," Mike replied.

  Helen hesitated. "Count me in."

  Jamie was not surprised when the entire group agreed to see it through. They had remained loyal, even when it looked as if the newspaper wouldn't survive. "I want all of you to exercise caution." Jamie paused when she heard the bell over the door in the reception area ring several times, indicating a visitor. Vera bolted from her seat, reached inside the back of her slacks and pulled out a gun. Everyone in the room ducked.

  "Vera!" Jamie cried. "Put that gun away this instant!"

  Vera grunted but did as she was told.

  Jamie spied two security guards waiting in the reception area and her knees suddenly took on the consistency of banana pudding. She hated to think what would have happened had Vera rushed out of the room waving her pistol.

  * * * * *

  When Max arrived at Bate's Furniture shortly before ten, he found a wreath of flowers on the door. Herman, Tom, and Herman's brother George met him at the door, all wearing black and looking somber.

  "Sorry for your loss," Max said.

  "Yeah, well, Daisy was a good barn cat," Herman replied. "Lived to be fourteen years old."

  "When did she die?" Max asked.

  "Last Christmas. We're just now getting around to mourning her."

  "God rest her soul," George said respectfully.

  Tom Brown nodded. "I didn't know Daisy personally, but I'm a friend of the family so I closed my paint store in order to be with Herman and George in this most trying time."

  "Let's go into my office," Herman said. He waited until everyone was seated before he spoke. "You'd better make this worth our while, Holt," he said, leaning back in his chair, hands propped behind his head. "Jamie had no right to run that advertisement."

  "I don't think she was real happy with the decorating job you guys did."

  "That's what she gets for letting Vera threaten us," Tom said. "Hell, we would have done Jamie right had she come to us personally. I used to have a thing for Jamie Swift way back in high school." He glanced at the other men. "Don't, uh, mention this to the wife. You know how jealous Lorraine is."

  "I say we let bygones be bygones," Max said. "Now, let's get down to business."

  * * * * *

  "Dude, would you get a load of that shit? He didn't even get a bruise."

  Vito muttered a string of expletives under his breath as he spotted Max going into Bates's Furniture. "The boss ain't gonna like it."

  "So, we don't call him, man. We wait till the job is done, then call."

  "Lenny, you stupid shit. You don't know the kind of person we're dealing with. We screw up this job, and the two of us are going to end up in body bags."

  "You should have told me, dude. I mean, what do we know about offing someone anyway? I ain't never killed nobody, have you? I never even run over a raccoon."

  "There's good money to be made in this line of work," Vito said. "If you don't have the stomach for it you need to get out now."

  Lenny looked thoughtful. "I don't want to run out on you, man."

  "Okay, so stop complaining. What we have to do now is figure out a way to get close to Holt without a bunch of people around. We need to know his whereabouts at all times. If he's staying at his brother-in-law's place, we've gotta figure a way to get past all those security guards. We can't get close to the newspaper, there are cops crawling around like cockroaches."

  "Yeah, dude, we need a plan."

  "Let's walk," Vito said. "We can't be seen hanging around, even in these disguises. I need to think."

  Lenny nodded. "Yeah, we gotta stay one step ahead of him."

  Vito stopped and looked at him. "You know, you're right. Damn, Lenny, just when I think you've fried your brain huffing Sterno, you come up and say something smart."

  "Yeah?"

  "So, where do you figure Max will go next?"

  "Well, let me think." Lenny looked up suddenly. "There's only a few places I can think of, and we can't get close to two of them, meaning the newspaper and Fontana's place."

  "Where else?"

  "You've seen Jamie Swift. Where would you go?"

  "Straight to the nearest motel," Vito replied. He suddenly brightened. "But why rent a motel when she's got her own place?"

  They gave each other a high five.

  * * * * *

  Max followed Jamie home at the end of the day. She parked her Mustang convertible in the garage as Max parked his car in the driveway. He followed her toward the front door of a sprawling frame house that sat on a lawn in dire need of cutting.

  "I don't have time for ya
rd work," Jamie said, "in case you didn't notice. The only saving grace is the fact the grass next door is twice as high."

  Max glanced at the house beside hers where a For Sale sign sat near the mailbox. "Looks like your neighbors are moving."

  "They're already gone. Which explains why the yard hasn't been cut."

  Max followed her inside the house. "I like your place. It looks comfortable."

  Jamie glanced about the living room. Her dark beige sofa and matching chair were old, but they had been well cared for, as had the antique library table and desk her grandmother had left her. Jamie had not been able to part with them when she'd sold off other items in order to put money into the newspaper. Two Andrew Wyeth prints adorned one wall. It was simple and uncluttered, the way she preferred it, but she couldn't think why a man with Max's wealth would appreciate it. "I'll bet your place is a lot nicer."

  "Right now it's a mess from all the renovations I'm doing."

  "Why would you do it yourself when you can afford to pay someone?"

  He shrugged. "Why not? I enjoy it." He glanced around once more. "So you grew up in this house?"

  "Yes. Come with me, I want to show you something."

  He followed Jamie out the back door. "Nice yard."

  She smiled. "The flower beds need weeding, but I don't have time for that, either." She pointed. "See that tire swing? My daddy put that up when I was a little girl. It's lasted all these years."

  "The two of you were very close?"

  "Yeah." She felt Max's eyes on her. "My mother left while I was still in diapers. I don't think my dad ever got over it."

  "How about you? Did you ever get over it?"

  She gave him a strange look. "I had no choice."

  "You haven't seen her since?"

  "No. This probably sounds cold, but I don't think I'd want to. Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked, changing the subject.

  "Sure." Max followed her back inside.

  "This is my favorite room," Jamie said. "I have fond memories of my dad and me playing cards at this table. He was a big gin rummy fan. We had some marathon games." She smiled at the memory. "I usually won, but I think he let me." She motioned toward a chair. "Have a seat."

  Max sat down at a round oak table while she made the coffee. "Will Phillip be angry that you've chosen not to stay at his place?" he asked.