On the evening after Thanksgiving, Chess sat at his dining room table with the tips of his fingers pressed together. He stared into space. Before him on the polished wood table lay the manila folder report from the private investigator he'd hired to research Alex. Now that he'd read the report, three times, Chess had to agree with Cookie.
Hiring the private investigator had not been a good idea.
Slowly, Chess closed his eyes. Inside that report was a bomb waiting to go off. The explosion was likely to rip apart his most precious dreams. Not that those weren't falling apart anyway. Cookie hadn't wanted to make love to him last night.
Oh, it wasn't as if they made love every single night. But he'd been concerned about the tenor of their conversation regarding Alex. He'd waited alone in the bedroom for Cookie, anxious to put the unpleasant taste of it behind them.
But when she'd come into bed and he'd leaned over to kiss her, the spark that was usually there had been missing. Smiling, Chess had teased her for being tired of him, but inside he hadn't been smiling at all. Inside, he'd been worried.
Something had changed.
Now Cookie's voice floated in from the open doorway. "Sweetheart? Oh, there you are."
She waltzed into the room while fastening an earring. She wore a royal blue silk shift that said 'money,' which meant she'd probably bought it used. Whatever it cost, it showed her feminine figure to particularly good advantage.
Smiling, she looked down at the manila folder in front of Chess. "What's that?"
He stifled the urge to take the thing and hide it under the table. "Just some numbers I need to go over." They were numbers all right. Twenty-five thousand dollars worth of numbers. How had Alex managed to get himself in so deep? Chess's forefinger bit into the edge of the file.
Cookie's dark eyes flicked from the file to his face. "Anything I need to know about?"
She'd seen something; she always did.
Chess managed a smile and shook his head. "The value of Love has been heading steadily upward, thanks mostly to you."
She put a hand on his shoulder. "It wouldn't move off the shelves at all if it weren't a great fragrance to begin with. That was your doing."
Maybe Cookie wouldn't blame Chess for Alex's problem. True, she'd warned him that Alex needed a father figure, that he'd been hurting since David's death. And Chess knew he was the older and more mature one between the two half-brothers. If anyone was responsible for their cool relationship, it was him.
If she didn't blame Chess, she certainly could.
Cookie's hand tightened warmly around his shoulder.
With difficulty, Chess restrained the pull of need he felt for her. Swallowing, he looked up. "It's getting late. Do you want me to make us some dinner, or shall I take you out?"
"Oh." Her fingers fell from his arm. "I forgot to tell you. Luther's going to pick me up. Can you believe he still hasn't seen the play? We were planning on grabbing a quick bite on the way beforehand."
Chess simply nodded. He didn't know why she was pulling away from him. Didn't know how to stop it. "I guess you won't need me to pick you up tonight, then."
"No, Luther will bring me home." She hesitated, her chocolate eyes cautiously perusing him.
Instinctively, he stiffened, wary of the suddenly portentous aura in the air. "I think I'll go back to the office, then. Get some more work done." He stood, sure he wanted to be out of the room, away from whatever she wanted to say to him.
"Chess?"
"I've got some contract work to do."
"Chess, there are some...things I really think we need to talk about."
Dread stabbed through him. "Not now, Cookie." He reached for the manila folder. She was going to break it off with him, ask for the divorce. They'd be in the clear very soon now in repaying the loan for the launch. He had no more valid claim on her. Besides, she was going to hate him after she found out how badly he'd let down Alex.
Her hands clutched each other in front of herself. "Well, maybe you're right. Luther's going to be waiting for me. Will you still be awake when I come home from the theater?"
What could he say? She'd made an honest request, and he knew he had to accept it like a man. He inclined his head, keeping his expression impassive. "Fine. I'll wait up for you."
The words sounded like a death sentence.
~~~
Alex's hands were shaking so badly he could hardly get his key in the door. Pathetic. He knew what he had to do. Why couldn't he take care of the matter like a man instead of trembling like a baby?
At last, he got the small side door to the factory open. It wasn't fully dark inside the building as he let the door close behind him. Yellow safety lights glowed dimly, giving him enough light to shut off the alarm.
Once that was done, Alex held his breath, listening. Silence. He was completely alone. He knew he had an hour before the security company came in to check the place. The voice on the phone had told him so.
Alex didn't hesitate before slipping up the fire stair to the second-floor mezzanine. The time for agonizing over his actions was long past. He simply had to do it now.
He came to a halt before the heavy metal vault. The vault was in a wall overlooking the main equipment floor. During the day anyone down below had a clear view of whoever might be at the vault. Tonight the place was deserted.
He'd been afraid his mind would blank out on the combination, but it was there in his head, singing over and over. He'd copped the combination the day they'd had all that trouble getting a decent batch of perfume.
The voice on the phone had arranged that, too. The voice had instructed Alex to make sure he was the one to go up with Chess to get a copy of the formula, to check what might be wrong with the mixture. Chess hadn't noticed how carefully Alex had been watching his hands. Hell, he'd probably have trusted Alex with the combination or even the formula, for that matter. All in the family, right?
Sure.
Alex's heart pounded as he put his fingers on the steel dial. After this, he'd be able to pay his gambling debts. Once and for all, he could put that mistake behind him. As for selling the formula...? Well, one mistake at a time. He'd take care of the consequences of that, too. Somehow.
The blood was pounding in his head, in his ears. And yet he still managed to hear the small, satisfying click of the combination. The heavy door swung open.
Alex drew a small flashlight from a hip pocket and then a folded, blank sheet of paper. Putting the flashlight between his teeth, he got out a pen. He started writing fast.
Everything was going exactly as the voice had planned it. No alarm, no security guard, no Chess. This last on the list would be at home, eating dinner with Cookie. For a moment Alex's handwriting faltered.
Chess. Not always the best sibling, but never malicious, never truly evil. Sometimes even...not half-bad.
But what Alex was doing to him now? God.
Frowning, Alex gave his head a sharp shake and turned his attention back to the task at hand. First things first. He had to get the formula copied down just the way he wanted it and himself out of the building. Ten minutes more. That was all he needed.
"Bet you could use some more light there, huh, Alex?"
The voice froze Alex into stone. Heart, lungs, everything stopped.
"Here," Chess said. Light suddenly blazed throughout the atrium space. "That's better, isn't it?"
Alex's flashlight fell to the floor with a loud clang. Stiffly, he turned.
His half-brother stood about six paces off, feet braced apart, fists on his hips. His face was pure granite.
"Are you going to kill me?" Alex was surprised at how low and deep his voice came out.
Chess appeared to seriously consider the question. "I'd like to, but Cookie would never forgive me. I suppose for now I'll have to settle for some answers."
Alex closed his eyes. It would be better if Chess simply killed him and had done with it.
An hour later, Alex was sure of this fact. He'd told Chess the whole story, from the first card game in that smoky basement to the disguised voice over the phone, promising a hundred grand for the formula. Then he told it to him again and yet again.
"You were supposed to put the formula in a Greyhound locker?" Chess's disbelief was the more daunting in that he spoke down at Alex from a position sitting atop his office desk.
Alex, meanwhile, was perched on a hard metal chair. "That's how we worked the prototype deal. I put in the bottle. They left the money."
"So you never met."
"No."
Chess swore, fervently. And then he made Alex tell him the whole story again, concentrating especially on the voice over the phone, how the person knew Alex needed money, how they'd known about the combination for the vault.
"So you didn't know the combination yourself before a week ago?" Chess demanded, for the hundredth time.
"I told you. No. And I didn't do anything to mess up the chemical production process the day I copped the vault combination from you."
Chess regarded Alex with deep displeasure. "I believe you."
This appeared to be a bad thing, judging by the expression on Chess's face.
"Which means you aren't the inside man," Chess continued in disgust. "The spy."
"Pardon?"
"It also means Henry is my main suspect, which I really didn't want to be true," Chess went on.
"But Henry already has the combination to the vault," Alex argued. "Why would he need me to cop it?"
"To deflect suspicion."
"Oh." Alex thought for a moment. "Plus, Henry had been in such a crappy mood with his mortgage problem, but more recently he's turned all happy and cheerful."
"If he offered you a hundred grand, you've got to be sure he's getting more than that from whomever wants to produce the knockoffs." Chess bit his thumb. "On the other hand...why even stay here to work at all if he's getting all that money—and has you to steal the formulas?"
"To deflect suspicion?"
Chess shook his head. "Let's go."
"Um..." Alex didn't want to go anywhere with Chess given the expression on his face. "Wh-where are we going?"
"Somewhere I can get to the bottom of this."
"A-and where is that?"
Chess's smile was pure menace. "Straight to the source. Something I should have done a while ago."
~~~
"You're going to see who?" Kate demanded, accepting her youngest son in some bewilderment from the hands of her oldest. The light from her house spilled onto the front porch where this rendezvous occurred. "Alex, you look terrible," Kate went on, taking in the young man's haggard features. She turned on Chess. "What have you done to him?"
Chess stuffed his fists in his pants pockets. His jaw felt like steel. "I just talked to him. Though he deserves to get the sh— He deserves a good whipping."
Alex gave his mother a calm look. "Chess caught me copying the formula for Love."
"What?"
"He was going to sell it to an interested buyer," Chess snarled. "I'll give you one guess who that is."
Kate's eyes snapped back to Alex. "What is he talking about?"
Alex sighed, exhausted. "It's a long story. Basically, I was offered a hundred thousand dollars to get the formula for Love."
"What?" Kate was clearly astonished. "But you wouldn't do that. That's crazy."
"He would," Chess claimed. "And it's not so crazy."
Kate turned toward Chess, her eyes wide.
"For one thing, Alex needed the money," Chess said. "And for another...it's been done before."
"What?" This came from Alex.
Kate didn't say a word. She just continued to stare at Chess, her eyes huge on him.
Slowly but surely, understanding dawned. With it, an enormous cavern opened up inside of Chess. "You knew that," he claimed softly, not taking his eyes off of her. He hadn't believed he could feel worse than in the moment he'd seen Alex scribbling away with his flashlight. He was finding out that he could. He could feel a lot worse. Betrayal was like acid.
"You took them," Chess went on, ignoring the fact his mother looked like she was about to faint. "You stole the classic formulas last March."
She was so white now she was almost luminous. "I— Yes, I did."
Chess closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to wake up in bed next to Cookie and find this whole thing had been a terrible dream.
"Mom?" Alex turned his head to stare at her.
"Chess!" Kate reached out her arms, but Chess was already backing away.
Henry's betrayal—even Alex's—was nothing compared to this. His mother! His own mother had sent the company into ruin.
This was Korman's doing. All of it. Korman had to have been behind this, the whole mess. Turning, Chess made for his car. Dimly, he heard his mother calling him to come back. He ignored the entreaty. He could concentrate on one thing alone. Korman. He'd make the man pay. He'd make him pay if it was the last thing he did.
~~~
While Luther watched the end of the play, Cookie sat at the counter in the dressing room and wiped the blood from her face. She had half an hour before Luther would come around to take her home.
Cookie frowned as she removed the red-stained lace bodice from between her breasts. She felt uneasy. Chess was at home waiting for her, and she was anxious to get this talk over with and finally tell him about the baby.
Cookie was just throwing the lace onto the counter when she got one of her chills. She bolted upright as though a cube of ice had slid down her back.
There was someone there, watching. Cookie had never been more sure of it than in that moment.
Slowly, she made herself turn around.
Nothing. Just the faded decor of the dressing room, the racks of clothes, the props left over from other days.
I don't believe in ghosts, Cookie reminded herself, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. She needed to get home. Instinct told her that. Chess needed her.
She stood up, grabbing her clothes with more haste than normal. Luther might be disappointed, but she was going home now, as soon as she had dressed. She'd call a cab and be home, safe with Chess, in less than an hour.
~~~
By the time Chess pulled his black Porsche into the short driveway before Bernard Korman's townhouse, he was in a far calmer frame of mind. It had taken forty-five minutes to drive from Kate's house. During that time Chess had planned his assault.
He'd also pulled himself back under control. The pain his mother and half-brother had tried to inflict on him went into stasis. He couldn't afford to deal with it right then. He had to be cool, calm, and collected.
Chess shut the door of his car and jumped up the steps to Korman's front door. He made himself pause on the top step there, made himself exercise the control of another moment's wait. Then he leaned on the doorbell.
It didn't take long for Korman to answer the summons. He opened the door, wearing a bone-colored cable-knit sweater and a pair of wire-framed glasses.
"Chess." His tone held only mild surprise. His lips curved upward in a peculiar smile. "Somehow I knew you'd eventually land on my doorstep. Please. Come on in."
The man's calm greeting nearly threw Chess. He did not consider this a friendly house call. Nor should Korman.
Chess walked through the door. His first impression was that of elegance. His next was more vague and as disturbing as Korman's calm reaction to his arrival. It was loneliness.
No. Loneliness? So what? Chess turned on the man, his fists clenched.
"What did you do to my mother?" His voice was gritty. "How did you get her to give you the classic formulas?"
"Have a seat, Chess." Korman gestured toward a cluster of dark leather furniture and slipped his glasses off his nose. "Would you like a drink?"
The banal offer slipped the leash on Chess's control. He grabbed Korman by the collar of his sweater and hauled the man up to his nose. The physical sensation was enormously satisfying. "What did you do?"
"Blackmail," Korman answered calmly. His gaze remained steady and unwavering.
"Blackmail?" Chess repeated in disbelief. "What could you possibly have to blackmail her with?"
To Chess's utter amazement, the man smiled. Collar-tied by Chess, he actually smiled. "Now, I can't tell you that," he claimed. "She paid the blackmail."
Chess tightened his hold around the other man's neck, feeling murderous.
Korman closed his eyes. "But if it makes you feel any better," he managed to wheeze out. "She didn't give me anything I didn't already have. I already had the formulas, Chess."
Chess didn't relax his hold on the other man. "What?" he hissed. "How?"
Korman's breathing was labored. "David," he answered. "David gave them to me."