"The publicity about this case," Quill said, "is already enormous. The reporters outside our door this morning are already talking about this as the Trial of the Century."
Carmichael's face cleared slightly. He began to look very interested.
"And, of course, we're finding ourselves at odds with the Houghton family. We thought that if you had represented Mr. Taylor, you wouldn't be scared of taking them on." This, Quill thought, was absolutely true. However slick and money-grubbing Mr. Carmichael seemed, he was at least a tough cookie. She did her best to look helpless and feminine.
"At odds in what way?"
"This morning, we received a very lucrative offer to run the Florida Institute for Fine Food for an interim period." Quill thought about the proposed "salary," doubled it, and told him.
He smiled. "And this offer seems to you... what?"
"In the nature of a bribe," Meg said bluntly. "Although it's not enough of one, I must say. It doesn't come close to the money we've been offered for the - ah -book."
"Ah. The book. Well. There's no doubt. No doubt at all that you both are in need of - if I may say so in these enlightened days - a strong arm to protect you."
"You may," Meg said sweetly.
"So if we can arrange a suitable retainer, we can get started on the protection right away."
"A retainer," Quill said, dismayed. "How much..."
Mr. Carmichael frowned. Clearly, the vulgar discussion of amount would be handled by Miss Ice. "I'm afraid until that's settled, we'll have to reserve any discussion that might be considered confidential."
Quill was silent for a moment, trying to figure how much they could afford to pay for information about Verger Taylor.
"The thing is," Meg said, "we find ourselves a bit short. Before Verger - um, whatever - he'd recommended a stock buy for us and we went ahead and invested most of our available cash in it."
"A stock tip? You invested your savings based on a stock tip?"
"Mr. Carmichael," said Meg earnestly, "who in their right mind would turn down a stock tip from Verger Taylor? We discussed it with Bea and Birdie, of course, before we wrote the check, and they thought it was a good idea."
"Mrs. Gollinge and Mrs. McIntyre? You know them?
What was the stock Verger advised you to purchase, if I may ask?"
"As our attorney, I'm sure it's all right for you to know. It was Murex."
"Murex?" He frowned. "What kind of game is this, anyway? Verger never would've advised you to buy Murex. He hated the whole deal. He was about to..."
He looked at them for a moment, then rose. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you ladies to leave. I don't know what you're playing at, but you won't play it here, if you please."
"Meg, you idiot!" said Quill, who had been mentally applauding Meg' s cleverness in inserting Murex into the conversation. "It wasn't Mr. Taylor, it was Mr. Kolsacker, speaking for Mr. Taylor."
Puzzled, but game, Meg said, "My gosh, so it was. And it was at my cooking class, too. How could I have forgotten?"
"Ernst advised you to buy Murex." Carmichael sat down again. "That I can believe. Although I don't recall that conversation."
"It was while you were boiling the rabbit carcass," Meg said. "You were very absorbed in how to boil the rabbit carcass. I have very few students with your abilities, Mr. Carmichael. I can assure you. You have the makings of a very fine cook."
"Hm." Carmichael looked pleased. "Well. Ernst and Verger were squabbling over that company from day one. And it just goes to show you. The one good thing about Verger's disappearance is that Ernst stands to make a lot of money from Murex." He smiled broadly and snapped his Nicorette. "And of course, so do you."
-14-
"So what do you think?" Meg asked as they were once again battling the traffic.
"I think he's having a tough time quitting smoking." Quill gasped, braked, and narrowly avoided colliding with a blue Taurus that had cut into her lane without warning.
"What time is it?"
"Lunch," Quill said. "I hope we get there in time for lunch."
A white Chevy Lumina began backing up in front of the Mercedes. Quill laid on the horn. The woman in the driver's seat looked around, waved apologetically, and continued to back up.
"What the heck?" Quill muttered. "I think she wants that right turn back there." Meg thrust her thumb over her shoulder. "Better let her go."
Quill decided that if she kept on expecting traffic here to conform to minimal rules of common sense, she was going to work herself into an overnight stay at Dr. Bittern's clinic. She stopped; allowed the Lumina to back up, make a U-turn, and head in the opposite direction; then shifted into drive. She patted the Mercedes' dashboard in sympathy. "So, how far have we gotten here? I don't think we did all that well."
"We learned that Ernst profited from the rise in Murex stock, and that the stock wouldn't have gone up if Verger had been around to force the sale. I think that's critical. Critical."
"I wonder how much money Ernst made?"
"We can find out."
"How?"
Meg smiled. She patted her skirt pocket on and said, "Luis."
"Luis? What about... damn!" She slammed on the brakes, laid on the horn, then waved and smiled weakly as a pair of senior citizens crossed four lanes of traffic on PGA Boulevard with their little dog.
"Luis and his computer. You know that printout of our references for Carmichael's file?"
"Yeah."
"It's got his E-mail address. His IP/PC code. And they cross-index files by birth dates, Quill. Carmichael's got all of Verger's financial stuff, right? Luis can get us into those files. We can find out exactly how much money Ernst made."
"So we bag the good doctor?"
"Oh, no. I'm dying to see what this therapy session's like. Aren't you? If we hurry, we'll just make it. And then we'll pay a visit to Luis the hacker."
"Hurry? I was hoping you'd say that." Quill slammed on the brakes; laid on the horn; and swung a wide, wide right turn onto PGA from the farthest left lane, leaving a horde of angry motorists screaming in her wake.
"Gotcha," she said. "That felt good."
Meg still wasn't speaking to her when she pulled into the parking lot at the Combers Beach Club. She slipped the key card into the security machine at the gate, drove slowly and carefully to Luis's office door, and shifted into neutral with the gentlest of movements.
"We're here," she said brightly.
Meg opened the passenger side door and got out. Luis waved to her through his front window. She waved back.
"Meg? Meggie? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. All that traffic, being patient. It just got to me."
"Taxis," said Meg flatly. "Taxis, taxis, taxis."
Quill asked what she thought was not an unreasonable question. "How can detectives take taxis?"
"Then I'll drive."