She certainly had not been the same since that bleak day. The stress of dealing with the personal tragedy as well as the very disastrous, very public bankruptcy of Spring Industries had changed both of them.
"I admit he's got a reputation," she said. "But I think it's somewhat exaggerated. In fact, I think he deliberately promotes it because he believes it's good for business."
"The rumors about him aren't all fantasy." Leo's fingers tightened around his double tall coff-tea latte glass. "Listen, after the story about you and Chastain finding Fenwick's body broke in the newspapers I started hearing things."
"What sort of things?"
"Remember John Garrett?"
"Sure. Garrett Electronics. John used to be a friend of yours back in the old days." The old days was mutually understood by both of them to refer to the era before the loss of their parents.
"John and I ran into each other again in a History of Synergistic Theory class this semester. He took me aside yesterday. Told me he'd seen the headlines about you and Chastain. He wanted to warn me."
"About what?"
"About what kind of guy Chastain is." Leo leaned a little farther across the tiny table. "Seems like John's cousin, Randy, lost a lot of money in Chastain's Palace a few months ago. Randy had to go to his father for cash to settle the debt."
"That would be John's uncle?"
"Right. At any rate, old man Randolph Garrett was furious. Mostly because he didn't have the cash. He didn't want anyone to know he was having financial problems. Some kind of merger was in process. At any rate, John said that borrowing to pay off Randy's debt would have brought the kind of attention from the business news media that could have jeopardized the deal."
"What happened?"
"Randy's father went to see Chastain who said that things could be worked out." Leo glanced around once more and then lowered his voice. "Get this, Chastain told him that the gambling debt would be wiped off the books provided Garrett sold him a certain piece of property up in the hills above the city."
"So? That seems perfectly reasonable to me. Generous, even."
Leo gave her an exasperated look. "The property was the original Garrett estate. The one John Jeremy Garrett, himself, built three generations ago. It's a piece of the Garrett family history. They would never have parted with it willingly. Chastain must have known that."
"Did Randy's father sell the property to Chastain?"
"He had no choice. John told me that the other branches of the Garrett clan were furious when they found out that the estate had been sold off. It was supposed to pass down through Randy's side of the family."
"You just told me that Randy's father was in financial difficulty. If that was true, the estate would likely have been sold, in any event. We had to sell our family home four years ago. These things happen." It worried Zinnia that she was trying to defend Nick Chastain or at least excuse his actions. Not a good sign, she thought. Not good at all.
"John said the Garrett estate would have been the last thing to go. And even if it had been sold, the family would never have agreed to sell it to someone like Chastain."
Zinnia chuckled. She couldn't help herself. "Horrors. A casino owner in the neighborhood. Who will they let in next?"
Leo's mouth tightened. "Don't you get it? It's an example of how Chastain works. He obviously wanted that estate. He knew he'd never convince the Garretts to sell it to him, so he manipulated Randy into a big loss at the casino."
"Are you accusing Nick of cheating his customers?"
"He wouldn't have to resort to cheating." Leo flopped back in his chair. "John said Randy is kind of wild. Give him a few drinks, feed him all the gambling chips he wants, and the end result would be a foregone conclusion. Chastain must have known that."
Yes, Zinnia thought, Chastain would have known that.
"He's a matrix," she said quietly.
"Chastain? Five hells." Leo's mouth twisted with acute disgust. "I should have guessed. That explains a few things."
"Such as?"
"Such as your trying to see his good side when it's obvious to everyone else that he doesn't have one. You know how you are when it comes to matrix-talents. You always feel sorry for them. God knows why."
"Don't worry about me feeling sorry for Nick Chastain. I'm well aware of the fact that he can take care of himself. I promise I'll watch my step."
"Zin, I don't want you fooling around in a murder investigation."
"If I find anything I'll go straight to the cops. Now, enough about that. How are things going with you?"
Leo frowned at the change of subject. He raised one shoulder in a small shrug. "Okay."
"That doesn't sound like okay to me."
Leo groaned. "Uncle Stanley came to see me yesterday. Took me to lunch. Said he wanted to talk to me man-to-man."
"Oh, dear. Same song and dance?"
"Yeah. Asked me when I was going to give up the academic world and start concentrating on preparing myself for the real world of business. Went into his usual routine."
"You mean he pointed out that there was no serious money in teaching?"
"Yeah. Reminded me that the Spring family roots were in business. Said you were being difficult about fulfilling your responsibilities to the clan. That if you refused to contract a suitable marriage, there would be no one left but me to restore the family fortunes. Blah, blah, blah."
"Don't listen to him, Leo." Zinnia reached across the table to touch his sleeve. "You're going to be a brilliant synergistic historian. It's what you were born to do. You've got a powerful psychometric-talent and an aptitude for research. It would be a crime to give up your dreams."
Leo's mouth twisted. "And besides, we both know I'd never make it big in the business world. Spread sheets, bottom lines, and five-year financial forecasts bore the socks off me. But the family is going to keep pushing both of us, Zin."
"We'll stand firm."
"Easier said than done."
"I know." Zinnia sighed. "I know. But we've made it this far. We can hold out for the duration."
"Don't count on it."
Zinnia and Leo exchanged troubled glances. When push came to shove on St. Helens, family almost always won.
"What is it, Feather?" Nick did not look up from the computer screen on his desk.
Feather's voice emerged from the intercom only slightly more gravelly than usual. "Hobart Batt is here, boss."
Nick stared at the screen full of financial data in front of him. He should have been pleased that Batt had apparently moved quickly to start the matchmaking process, but for some reason, he felt a chill in his gut.
"Damn," he said softly. "I forgot about him. Give me a couple of minutes, then send him into the red chamber, Feather."
"Sure, boss."
"By the way, Feather?"
"Yeah?"
"When I'm through with Batt, ask Rathbone to come see me for a few minutes."
"You want to talk to the head chef, boss? Something wrong in the Palace dining rooms?"
"No. It's a private matter."
"Private?" Feather sounded confused.
"Tell him to bring some sample menus for a picnic for two."
"A picnic?" Feather was beyond confused now. He was beginning to sound uneasy. "You going on a picnic, boss?"
"A classy picnic. The kind you see in movies. You know, where they serve a bottle of good wine and pate and tiny little sandwiches."
"I never been on any picnics like that."
"Neither have I. But I'm sure Rathbone can handle it. Any chef who can get the tri-city-state award of excellence four years in a row and who could please the Founders' Club members for a decade should be able to put together a decent picnic."
"I'll tell him you want to see him, boss." The intercom went silent.