"Stop it, Zinnia. Please."
"Do I take it that your curiosity about poor Morris's death has been renewed now that you know the journal is still missing?" she asked bluntly.
"Yes." He took a step toward her. "You could damn well say that my interest in the matter has been renewed. Furthermore, for your information, I'm the leading authority on the Third Expedition, not Newton DeForest."
"Is that right? How come no one, including my brother who's really into history, knows that interesting little fact?"
"Because I've never bothered to publish. I have no reason to share what I've learned with the rest of the world."
"Every matrix I've ever met makes a fetish out of secrecy."
He opted to ignore that goad. After all, she was right. "I've spent the past three years collecting every scrap of information I could find. I know every single theory, legend, and rumor. I've talked to everyone I could find who was in the Western Islands thirty-five years ago. If you want to know anything about the subject, ask me."
A speculative look appeared in her eyes. "DeForest told me that none of the men on your father's team had much in the way of family ties."
"He's right." Nick picked up the wine glass and took another swallow. "Loners, misfits. But all good jungle men. That's one of the things that doesn't make sense. If an accident occurred on the trail, one or two of them should have survived."
"You're assuming that the expedition did leave the jumping-off point."
"It left," he said softly.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I'm certain."
She sighed. "Okay, back to the other issue. You said the team members were loners and misfits. But your father was hardly alone in the world. He was the heir to the Chastain business empire."
"My father was the exception." Nick hesitated. "Andy Aoki told me once that he thought that it was the Chastain family that drove my father out to the islands. Apparently they put a lot of pressure on him to take over the reins of Chastain, Inc. That was the last thing he wanted to do so he got as far away from the clan as he could."
"Andy Aoki?"
"The man who raised me after my parents died."
"You lost your mother, too?"
"Before I was six months old. She left me with Andy the day she went to Serendipity to look for answers concerning my father's disappearance. She never came back. The six-track she was driving went over a cliff during a storm."
"How terrible for you," Zinnia said very softly. "To lose both parents."
"To be truthful, I don't remember my mother. And my father disappeared before I was even born." Nick gave her a level look. "Andy was a good man. He was a father to me in every way that counted."
"I believe you." Zinnia was silent for a moment. "It was probably Bartholomew Chastain's talent that led him to take up expedition work. The lure of analyzing and mapping the unknown would have obvious appeal to a strong matrix."
"I suppose so." Nick considered that. "Depends on the matrix, I think."
"Did you ever consider expedition work?"
"No. I did a little jelly-ice prospecting to get a stake together but once I had the money I needed to open the casino, I quit the jungle work. I have .. . other interests."
"Synergistic probability theory, I presume." She eyed him shrewdly. "That would fit with your career choice."
He shot her a sidelong glance. "I don't run a casino because I'm into gaming theory."
"Why do you run one?"
"Because, among other things, it's a good way to make lots and lots of money."
"Succinctly put. And what do you plan to buy with all the money?"
"Respectability." And everything that goes with it, he added silently.
Her eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me. I've got a plan."
She gave him a look of reluctant fascination. "Amazing. What is this plan?"
"I'll tell you about it over dinner."
"Hold on here, Chastain." She put up a palm. "Things have changed in this little matrix. You can't just accuse me of fraud one moment and then expect me to go out to dinner with you the next. I've got some pride, you know. Plus which, I'm still pissed."
The phone on the wall rang before Nick could decide how to deal with that.
Zinnia grabbed the receiver. "Hello? Oh, hi, Duncan. No, it's okay. I worked late tonight."
Nick did not like the way her voice softened and warmed. Whoever Duncan was, he was more than a casual friend. A relative, he thought optimistically.
"I meant to call you this evening, anyway." Zinnia lounged against the counter in a casual pose that said volumes about the easy nature of her relationship with the man on the other end of the line. "I wanted to thank you for dinner."
Not a relative. Nick sipped morosely at his wine. He recognized the feeling of possessiveness that was uncurling within him but he did not fully comprehend it. Possessiveness implied jealousy. Jealousy was a byproduct of desire that was not properly controlled. He hadn't even gone to bed with Zinnia Spring yet. How could he be feeling anything as strong as jealousy?
He was still suffering aftereffects from the focus link, he decided. He would have to be careful. Very, very careful.
"I had a really bizarre day, as a matter of fact," Zinnia said into the phone. "I'll tell you all about it the next time I see you. Thanks. Yes, I promise. I'll check my calendar in the morning. Good night, Duncan."
Nick watched her hang up the phone. "Good friend?"
"A friend. His name is Duncan Luttrell."
Nick made the connection swiftly. "SynIce?"
"Do you know him?"
"Not personally." Nick summoned up an image of a big, good-looking, confident man. "But I know who he is. He gets a lot of business press. And I've seen him at Chastain's Palace a few times. Strictly a recreational gambler. Doesn't get into deep play." But Luttrell usually won when he played, Nick reflected. Even when the stakes were penny-ante.
"Duncan would never gamble heavily." Zinnia's smile was a little too sweet. "He likes money, too, just as you do, but he prefers to earn it the old-fashioned way."
"Meaning he works for it and I don't?"
"I'm sure running a casino requires all sorts of executive ability. But I suspect your corporate style is somewhat different than Duncan's."
Amazingly, Nick managed to hang on to his temper. "Are you and Luttrell serious?"
"You mean, are we having an affair? No." She grimaced. "My relatives would dearly love us to get more closely involved. Aunt Willy reminded me just this morning that in certain social circles, marriages are sometimes made for what she likes to call family considerations."
"You mean, she wants you to marry for money and position."
"Let's just say she'd like to see the Spring family restored to what she considers its proper station in the world."
"But you're digging in your heels." Nick felt his spirits rise. His best ally in this new battle was Zinnia's own stubbornness.
"With the exception of my brother, none of my relatives is particularly concerned with whether or not Duncan and I would be happy together. They see marriage to him as a way to recoup the family fortunes."
"How does Luttrell feel?"
"I don't know," she said. "I've never asked him. But he's a smart man. No intelligent person would consider marrying a woman who has been declared unmatchable."
"He'd probably be real happy to consider an affair," Nick muttered.
She blushed. "Maybe. But that's not any of your business, is it? I'm sure you're not interested in my personal plans. All you care about is the Chastain journal."
"And all you care about is finding Morris Fenwick's murderer. It seems to me, we're back to Plan A."