Myles set down the drink he'd built and tried a little bluster but was soon dissuaded of any such attempt by the sudden snick of Howard's silenced pistol as he fired a splintering shot into the ebony end table beside the sofa. Moira shrieked and leaned back moaning.

"For God's sake, man!"

"No, Forbin. For my sake and ultimately, yours. How much then, Moira?" He smiled and moved the barrel back toward her.

"I don't know wha—" She stared at the man in terror.

"Skip the bullshit. What we have here is a meeting to negotiate just how much you are going to pay me for this bag of material." She didn't move and he felt an odd tremor of doubt. Is it possible she was used from the get go?

Howard came around and sat in the chair, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "In case you wonder what's in here, Moira... I can call you Moira, right? Sure. You can call me Howard. By the way, I know your company voted last night and you are sitting very pretty." She just stared, trembling. "This bag contains all of the late Mister Tubbs original material from the tapes he made for you. Your pal there wanted me to hide it away for ah, safe keeping. Right Myles?"

Moira turned and glared at Myles who kept his eyes on Howard. "You bastard." The curse came out in a deadly hiss and Gil could see Myles flinch as he felt her venom. He wished now that he had listened to Jarlayne and called the police with his evidence, this was not going to end with him just saying good night and calling a cab. He tried to shrink into the background.

Howard nodded, She did know but not about her partner's game. "Sorry, to break the bad news, Moira, Forbin and I—"

"We had an arrangement." Myles blurted angrily. He shifted on the sofa, trying for a space between he and Moira.

"Yes, we did, Forbin but you know what, I want a new one." He patted the bag and grinned at Moira. "You are some piece of work, lady. That was some performance you gave." His eyes drifted down to her legs and she closed her knees instinctively, tucking her skirt about her thighs. "Oh, suddenly modest are we? I bet you don't squeeze 'em together like that with old Myles here." He gave a dirty laugh and shrugged toward Gil. "Maybe we can fix you up, lawyer, if the negotiations go well." Gil groaned inwardly at being brought back into notice.

"What do you want, Tillman? Stop fooling around." Myles boldly got up, stepping around the shards of wood on the carpet and went to the bar and fixed himself another drink. "How did you find me anyway?"

"That's the best part, but I'll save that for later. From what I read in the paper, Moira here now has shares in WesCat to the tune of eighty-five percent. That's a nice nest egg for the lady. And I assume the two of you were going to milk it equally, right?" Myles started to protest. "It was rhetorical, Myles. I know you were. I'm not greedy, forty percent would keep me comfortable... for a while anyway."

"Don't be ridiculous, that would leave us- Moira, with only forty-five. She could be outvoted by the others at any time."

"Yes but, Myles, I would have the swing vote wouldn't I? As long as you and the lovely Moira here keep me happy..." Once again he let his eyes track across her body, finishing with his eyes locked on hers.

"If you are suggesting some kind of relationship with me in exchange for my shares you had better think again." Moira had gathered herself and was beginning to regain a measure of control; if she didn't, all her work would vanish down the drain. "Besides, I can't just sign over corporation shares at will, the board has to review the action and vote on whether to accept or not, and in your case, I would expect a flat refusal—not only expect, I would flat out demand it. And as for him," she spat angrily toward Myles. "There will be no sharing of control of any kind with me or my company."

"Ooops, Mylesy, paradise lost." Howard grinned at his former employer. "Guess all my business is with Moira now."

Myles gulped his drink down and glanced nervously at Howard. He was not a person to argue with, yet, if he let things play out everything would be lost. He saw a cloud pass over Howard's face and he returned to stand by the sofa, the calm, elderly counsel, smoothing the rough sea with charm and common sense.

"Let's not bicker about this. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement over the shares that will be suitable to all of us. Whatever happened, in the end we accomplished what we set out to do, eh?"

"Shut up, Myles! You evil bastard, you were planning to use that," she pointed at the bag, "to blackmail me, weren't you?"

"Moira, please..."

"She's right, Forbin. I just beat you to it, that's all." Howard got up and aimed the gun at Myles. "Actually, I don't even know if Moira and I need you at all any more."

"Now wait a minute—"

"He's right, Myles. Maybe he and I could do a deal." Maybe in hell, she scowled inwardly. She shifted away from Gil and assumed a more relaxed position, crossing her legs slowly. Seeing Myles on the defensive gave her great pleasure. "After your hotel prank I find it hard to believe you can be trusted at all."

•••

Mike Aznasous sat at his desk sifting through the material Jarlayne had given him and comparing it to his own notes and acquired evidence. She was right, they had been too eager to pounce on the obvious. The trail of phone numbers and the timing of the calls, the cancellations of the hotel room under Janet Smith's name, it all went together in one tidy package. He held up the sheet with Myles Forbin's name and her notes describing her theory of his involvement.

The handwriting conjured up a picture of Jarlayne Brighton bent over her desk, her long hair hanging seductively over the side of her face. An absent brushing back by slender, manicured fingers and the tip of a pink tongue showing as she pondered her precise wording. He snapped his focus back and glanced about the office, happy nobody noticed his faint smile and glassy eyes. Damn!

Since Petchorik was going off to brace Mrs. Weston, Mike decided to jump the gun and pay Forbin a visit. Maybe he could corroborate the lawyer's theory if he confronted Forbin with what they new about he and Mrs. Weston. He gathered everything up and shoved it into a file and locked it in his desk.

"I'm out for a few hours," he told the constable at the front desk. "I'll be on the cell if you need me."

They exchanged a wave and Mike headed out to the parking garage and his car.

•••

The room looked clean enough and even the window that permitted a welcome hint of the day's waning sunshine had been washed, still, Jarlayne wrinkled her nose at the inevitable hospital odour that always seemed to permeate the very structure. She stood beside the bed looking down at Deborah, her lips turning in as she assayed the damage. A long consultation with the doctor had satisfied her that minimal cosmetic change would take place in spite of how bad the bruises and swelling looked.

He conceded that she might require some work on one cheek but that they wouldn't know for sure until she had completely recovered. Armed with these assurances, such as they were, Jarlayne was ready to face Deborah and speak positively about her situation.

A rotund, jolly nurse breezed into the room and dragged the window drapes open even further, allowing a fading shaft of light to fall across the bed then she busied herself with examining tubes and taking pulses and generally mother-henning the patient.

"She'll wake up in a minute, it's almost time to change those dressings."

"Can I stay?"

"Oh sure, she won't care." The nurse grinned hugely and wheeled a small cart over beside the bed.

Deborah's smile was a wrenching sight and even tough Jarlayne felt her eyes start to water. She hid her emotions by making a production out of getting a chair and dragging it over to the bedside and arranging her jacket and purse.

"Pretty bad, isn't it?" The voice was as puffy as the mouth it came out of.

"Not as bad as you might think, Deb. I spoke to the doctor and he thinks that most of this will disappear in time."

"Like the polar cap." The nurse chuckled and gave them both a smile as she folded pads, snipped gauze and cut strips of tape.

"Don't be silly. You have to stay tough. My God, anyone who could take what you did and still has the presence to get help..." She let the thought trail off with an admiring shake of her head.

"It was the guy who broke into your office." Deborah said.

Jarlayne nodded and put her hand on Deborah's arm. "I suspected that after I traced the phone calls. His name is Howard Tillman. I think he might also be the one who killed Davis Tubbs." She went on to tell Deborah what they discovered and what both she and Gil had decided to do. The smile faded from the nurse's face and she kept her head down trying not to listen.

"He's such a jerk sometimes," she wheezed.

"That's why I insisted on telling the police. Who knows what trouble he could get himself into."

"Take care of him, Jarlayne, he needs someone to take care of him." Her fingers sought her friend's hand and she squeezed delicately.

"If I'm any judge, the police are on it right now. Don't you worry, you just get better."