Jarlayne Brighton ran the cursor over the icons on her screen and continued her search through the myriad lists of sound engineers and technicians, watching for that one name or place that would trip her trigger mind and allow her to zero in on a lead. She toyed with a few strands of her TV commercial soft hair, separating and twisting them with long slender fingers, as the screens flashed past.

She had already narrowed her field from the police database of those involved in film and recording fraud and was hunting through names within the city. Her theory was that if the wife had arranged for all this, chances were she didn't have direct connections and had gone through an intermediary, also, the timing suggested a local source, ergo backtrack the likeliest suspects for any possible link.

Jarlayne was raised along with three older brothers by a single mother, who spent long days in a tiny newspaper kiosk for the little money it took to pay for their government subsidized apartment. Jarlayne Brighton kept the fact of her disadvantaged existence at bay by haunting the local library and reading everything she could on self-improvement and goal achieving, lessons eventually applied to her chosen career. When the three brothers all left in different directions she took over organization of the apartment, and the budgeting of her mother's meager income. School, while an absolute must in all the studies she read on self-help, was too restrictive.

Even with huge success in sports that might have won her scholarships, she quit in the middle of high school to work as dispatcher for a bicycle courier company. The extra money allowed for a few luxury purchases to augment the face and figure she was discovering opened as many doors as her missing diploma might have. Her career choice came from exposure to the field through the courier company and it struck Jarlayne that it was exactly type of enterprise she could exploit successfully. Decked out in a mind-blowing outfit, Jarlayne Brighton began hitting the offices of all the investigation companies listed in the local yellow pages.

Her confidence proved correct and soon she was answering the phone for a small firm, well on her way to making it bigger. Three years and a hard earned license later she was on her own in her present office with her mother installed in a small but comfortable condo, and a list of impressive clients to pay for her improving lifestyle. The only thing missing from her idyllic life was a serious relationship. Jarlayne found men too eager, too simple and all with one-track minds, which she concentrated on exploiting instead of cultivating. Serious wasn't in the stars for Jarlayne.

When the names of four companies popped up on the screen, she let out a little squeak and froze the information. Marvision was one she knew. It was a name that flirted with shady connections in the film promotion world. Nothing concrete had ever been proven but with a wink and a nod those in the business knew where to go for 'special services'.

She ran a search on the company and produced a client list showing WesCat as one that used their services on a number of legitimate projects. The contact name was, Peter Delacourte. Next, she crosschecked the four firms that came from the police database with Marvision and narrowed the field to two who had done more than a few jobs for Marvision.

"Darling, would you please bring my car around." She purred into the speakerphone, smiling at the response from the attendant in the garage. Jarlayne logged off, gathered her things and with a quick pause for self-admiration in the full-length mirror on the wall next to the office door and strode on long, dark legs out to the elevator lobby. This was the part of the job she enjoyed the most-and frankly, so did most of the people she dealt with.

The attendant braked to a soft halt next to the exit and leaped out to hand her into her cream coloured Mercedes, accepting the slight squeeze of her fingers as sufficient tip, considering the eyeful of milk chocolate thigh she flashed getting seated.

"Have a nice day, Miss Brighton," he leered.

"It's the only kind I have, baby." She put the car in gear and spurted smoothly and professionally out of the garage into traffic. The attendant shook a fist up and down as he walked back to his booth, drawing a disgusted glare from a passing woman pushing a carriage.

The parking at WesCat required clearance from a gateman resembling the Hulk, who issued a large cardboard ticket that was to be placed on the dashboard and a chit to be signed by someone in authority in the building. Jarlayne sat politely through the flat delivery and the dead-eyed scan, took the ticket and the chit and coasted sedately into a spot near the door. Striding across the lock-stone walk leading to the entrance, she tossed her thick mane of hair, squared her shoulders and swept through the revolving door with the poise of someone who is somebody.

"Do you have an appointment?" A receptionist with a microphone, and a headset clamped over a cap of impossibly red hair, inquired without looking up, busily plugging and unplugging jacks from a large switchboard.

"My goodness," Jarlayne exclaimed, leaning on the counter. "You can actually talk to a person when you call here." The receptionist sat a little straighter and sniffed a pleased agreement. "Actually I don't have an appointment but if I could just speak to Mister Delacourte for two minutes it would be a huge favour to me... to us." Jarlayne leaned closer. "Peter and I..." She let the words dribble out slowly, performing a slow, knowing bat of her long lashes.

A pink flush rose up the receptionist's neck and she let her mouth drop, really looking at Jarlayne for the first time and seeing a tall, striking black woman who was suggesting that she was an intimate of one of her bosses. One of her white bosses! "I uh- I'll see if he's in- can you- you can sit over there." Was she ever going to rock the lunch table's world!

Jarlayne smiled and went to the designer conversation area in the foyer, sitting and crossing her legs comfortably.

Peter Delacourte came off the elevator with a bemused look on his face as he headed for the reception island. Jarlayne inventoried the man quickly. Tall. Thirty-eight to forty-two. Well built. Sandy hair and a smooth looking face. He wore a solid steel blue coloured shirt with a tie of mixed colours like an old artist's palette and light grey pants. She waited as Peter listened to the receptionist and turned, halting slightly as he took in her appearance, then crossed to greet her, his stock charm smile and hand extended in welcome as she rose out of the chair.

"Miss Brighton? I don't believe we've met." He half turned to the receptionist as if confirming his confusion.

"My loss," Jarlayne smiled pleasantly.

He flushed, caught off guard by the forward remark, and twisted the piece of paper he was carrying. "I'm not sure what-"

"Mister Delacourte...Peter...if I may." She moved next to him, flashing the goggle-eyed receptionist a quick glance. He nodded, still puzzled. "Peter, I'm looking for a top notch sound engineer and I've heard through a number of people that you- that is, WesCat, have a supplier, Marvision, that does a lot of work in that field and I was hoping you could give me an introduction to somebody there that I could discuss my business with."

Peter stood shaking his head, still bemused. "I don't understand why you come to me, why not just go to Marvision yourself, Miss- Miss...?"

"Peter," She stepped closer, breathing softly on his cheek. "It's Jarlayne..." She made it sound like a siren call. "Everybody needs an introduction or a reference these days. All I need is a name to help me get in the door... like I did here." She laid a hand on his arm and warmed her smile up higher than room temperature.

He stared for a minute, feeling the intense heat of her fingers through his sleeve and then he cracked a grin. "You were given my name? By whom?" This was a situation Peter was unused to. Normally he was the one exuding the practiced, smooth charm.

"Actually, I looked you up on the web and saw that your company used Marvision from time to time. A recommendation from a client goes a long way. Cold calling takes so much work, while having a name to drop is far easier... and more exciting... it appears." She flexed her fingers on his arm.

"You are a very clever woman, Miss Brighton, I can see you like to have a bit of an edge before you deal."

"Call me Jarlayne, Peter, and yes I always enjoy a bit of an edge," her hand increased its pressure, "getting a leg up is never a bad thing."

He coughed and fidgeted away a few steps. "Look, I'll give you a name, just be discrete in using it, okay?" He shook his head and took out a business card and scribbled something on the back, handing it to her and delaying its release. This was a woman he needed to explore.

"I promise." She pulled gently and it slipped from his grip. "Thank you, Peter. If I can do anything for you, anytime, let me know. Oh, and can you sign this visitor's chit for me."

He stood rock still and watched her leave the building, realizing he had absolutely no way of letting her know anything. He would definitely check with the gateman and get her car license.