17

The creaky staircase that functioned as an early-warning system for Truax Investigations sounded its squeaky alarm shortly before ten the next morning. Ethan listened intently, playing the game he had devised of analyzing a newcomer’s footsteps before the person reached the outer office. He told himself that it was good practice for a man in his line of work.

Modern ace detectives were inclined to rely too heavily on flashy gadgets and the Internet in his opinion. The old-fashioned Sherlock Holmes–style skills and methods were in danger of being lost forever.

Someone had to uphold tradition.

These footsteps were not firm, quick and light, so it wasn’t Zoe. He did not hear the soft, rapid thud of sneakers that signaled the arrival of Jeff or Theo. Not Bonnie’s smooth, brisk tread, either.

A man, he decided. Steady. Decisive. The kind of guy who knew where he was going and made a habit of getting things done. Either the UPS man or a prospective client.

He wasn’t expecting a delivery.

He put the yellow pad he had been using to make notes on the Kirwan case aside and took his heels down off the corner of his desk. It was not a good idea to let a potential client think that you had nothing better to do than sit around at ten o’clock on a weekday morning doodling.

His second-stage warning device, the strategically placed mirror, kicked in a moment later when a slender man walked into the outer office. He had thick gray hair cut very short. His trousers and sport shirt looked expensive. The attire was not brown so that pretty much ruled out the UPS man.

Was he an ace detective, or what?

Ethan got to his feet and went to the door of his office. The man had his back to him. He was contemplating the large secretarial desk near the window. Probably noticing that there was no secretary behind it, Ethan figured.

“I’d tell you that the receptionist just stepped out to get coffee,” Ethan said, “but the truth is I haven’t hired one yet. Can I help you?”

The man swung around to face him, dark eyes cool and assessing. “You’re Truax, I take it?”

“Ethan Truax.” He put out his hand.

“Doug Valdez.” Doug shook Ethan’s hand with the same decisive manner he had applied to climbing the stairs.

“Would that be Valdez as in D. J. Valdez, president and CEO of Valdez Electronics?”

“Yes.”

Ethan did a silent whistle in his head. Doug Valdez was a high-profile figure in the local business establishment and this year’s chair of the annual Whispering Springs Community Fund Drive.

In other words, a dream client.

D. J. Valdez was, in fact, the kind of client he had once possessed in abundance back in the old days in LA. But these weren’t the old days and this wasn’t LA and he no longer operated a large corporate security business that attracted clients like this.

Here in Whispering Springs this kind of client usually took his business to Radnor.

So what was Valdez doing here?

“Katherine Compton recommended you,” Doug said.

An actual, real-life referral. Life didn’t get any better in this business.

“Come in and have a seat.” Ethan stood back from the door.

Doug walked into the inner room and lowered himself into one of the client chairs. He was not a large man, but contrary to Zoe’s warning, the oversized chair did not overwhelm him.

Doug looked around, smiling faintly. “Just like something out of a hard-boiled detective novel. Except for the computer, maybe.”

“I inherited this office from my uncle, who opened the business several decades ago in another century. I’m afraid Uncle Victor had what you might call a highly romanticized view of the profession.”

Doug raised a brow. “You don’t share that view, I take it?”

“Can’t afford it. I’m trying to make a living. Such an approach to the business doesn’t allow for a lot of romantic sentiment.” He went around behind his desk and sat down. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a problem in my shipping-and-receiving room. Inventory losses have been higher than usual for the past three months. No big spikes but there is a consistent trend. My security people haven’t been able to figure out what’s going on. I’d like you to come in, have a look around and see if you can spot a way to close the gap in my current system.”

“I can do that,” Ethan said. “Before we talk about this any more, though, I’ve got a question.”

“You want to know why I didn’t go to Radnor?”

“I was under the impression that Radnor designed your current security program.”

“Your impression is correct. Radnor did design it. A detailed analysis of my company’s operations was carried out by a team of Radnor experts. When they were through with the analysis, they generated a very thick document that contained their findings, together with a long list of expensive recommendations that were all duly implemented.”

“I see.” Ethan waited. Sometimes if you let the silence get a little heavy, people started talking.

But Doug was not the kind of client who responded to that particular tactic. It was obvious that he was deliberating, deciding what and how much he wanted to say.

“I want to use someone from outside my organization.”

“I see.” Ethan opened a drawer, pulled out a fresh notepad and picked up his pen. “In other words, you think someone on your security staff is involved in the shipping-room losses.”

“That’s what it feels like to me. And given the fact that Radnor consulted for us when we hired our new security personnel staff, and given that they conducted all the background checks, I am not inclined to go back there to get the problem fixed.”

“What you’re asking for is an audit of your security system.”

“An audit.” Doug nodded, pleased with the word. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want. Maybe one lone outsider can see something that an organized team might miss, especially if that team has a vested interest in not finding any problems that would reflect badly on Radnor.”

Forty minutes later Doug wrote a check, shook Ethan’s hand a second time and left the office.

Ethan saw him to the door and then went back to his desk. He sat there for a while, looking at the check. There was a very satisfying amount written on it. The Valdez job was the biggest project that had come his way since he had opened up for business.

He picked up the phone. Zoe answered on the first ring.

“Enhanced Interiors.” She was polite and professional but somewhat distracted. “This is Zoe Truax.”

Zoe Truax. He liked the sound of that.

“Doug Valdez of Valdez Electronics just walked into my office and gave me a big, fat retainer to investigate some problems in his shipping department.”

“Ethan, that’s wonderful.” The distracted quality vanished from her voice. Zoe was suddenly bubbling with enthusiasm. “Congratulations. What a coup for you.”

“I owe it to Katherine Compton. She referred him to me.”

“As well she should have,” Zoe said with heartwarming loyalty. “You did a terrific job for her, and what’s more, you handled it very quietly. There hasn’t been a single blip of bad publicity in the papers to embarrass her. Given that she was sleeping with that dreadful Dexter Morrow, it could have been a humiliating experience. I’m sure she is very grateful to you.”

“To tell you the truth, I did wonder if she would want to shoot the messenger,” he admitted.

“Obviously she isn’t blaming you for her bad judgment. Probably why she’s a successful executive. Hey, how about we celebrate? Let’s go out to dinner. Not the whole gang this time. Just you and me.”

He suddenly felt even better than he had a few minutes before when Valdez had written the check. Celebrating small personal accomplishments like the Valdez deal was something real married people did.

“Sounds good,” he said. “Just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I haven’t solved the case yet.” He tapped the edge of the check on his desk. “Haven’t even started my investigation. A celebratory dinner may be a trifle premature.”

“Nonsense. You’ll solve the case. That’s what you do, remember? So I say we go out tonight. Your treat, of course, because you’re the one who just got the big retainer check.”

He smiled a little. “All right. But that means that I get to pick the restaurant.”

“Sure. As long as it isn’t a pizza parlor. We eat enough pizza whenever we go out with the gang.”

“That’s because Jeff and Theo are addicted to pizza. According to them it contains all the essential nutrients required to sustain life.”

“I wouldn’t dream of quarreling with such expert nutritional advice, but once in a while you have to live dangerously. Let’s go someplace where they give you real napkins.”

“What a concept. Okay, let me contemplate this for a while. It’s a big decision.”

“Surprise me.”

He hung up the phone and looked at the check again. It felt good to be able to call his wife in the middle of the day to tell her he had just picked up an important client.

It was good to hear the enthusiasm and the certainty in her voice when she said things like, You’ll solve the case. That’s what you do, remember?

Good to know that Zoe believed in him; or at least that she believed in his professional competence.

He pulled out the slender Whispering Springs phone book and turned to restaurants. It was a small community when all was said and done. The list of places where they gave you real napkins was a short one.

It occurred to him that what he was really looking for was the kind of place where you took a woman on a date when you wanted to impress her.