P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 63
"Good. Thanks."
"Just don't push me away. I'm on your side."
He ignored me and went on. "By the way, I crossed
paths with the woman who cleans the office. She threw
out the grape I gave you."
"Oh, no! I meant to take that home last night."
He still wouldn't look me directly in the eye. "Was that
drawing okay?" he asked solemnly.
"Which drawing?"
"My alterations to Burke's solarium. I figured when
you said there were iron pieces you wanted to use for
building the bench, you meant the grating we got at the
salvage yard for him last week."
"Yes, that is exactly what I was thinking. It's fine,
Sullivan. Thanks." The drawing he did, especially the inset showing the bench he'd designed, was much better
than fine, actually. But it was difficult to praise someone
who was actively shutting the door in my face.
Fortunately, I was able to get lost in my work that
morning until some ninety minutes later, when a portly
middle-aged man stepped through the door. He was
dressed in low-riding jeans, a flannel shirt, and a denim
jacket. He scanned our posh surroundings as he dried his
construction boots on the mat with the enthusiasm of a
child trying to build up a charge of static electricity. He
gave me an affable grin. "Hello, there." His voice was
halfway to a shout. "Have I got the right place? Is this
Gilbert and Sullivan Designs?"
"Sullivan and Gilbert Designs, actually," Steve
quickly corrected, rising.
"Ah. Come to think of it, there's probably a sign on the
door. Should've read it." He opened the door, craned his
64 L e s l i e C a i n e
neck to peer at our nameplate, then shut the door again.
"Which one's Gilbert and which one's Sullivan?"
"I'm Erin Gilbert."
"Steve Sullivan." Steve stepped forward with proffered
hand. "And you are . . . ?"
"Name's Walter Emory," the visitor said, his voice still
booming as he pumped Steve's hand. His name sounded
familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. "Pleased to meet
you. I'll probably be seeing you two quite a bit in the next
week or two."
As he shook my hand, the name clicked. "You're the
original founder of Earth Love, aren't you?" I remarked.
He was also the head of World's Watchdogs, a much
more controversial association, as I recalled.
He beamed at me. "That's right. Here to act as the
new judge for the contest. Earth Love felt it'd be best to
move forward quickly . . . then maybe to set up some sort
of memorial fund in Richard's memory."
Sullivan peered at him. "You're heading up World's
Watchdogs now, right?"
Walter Emory chuckled. "I can tell by the way you're
both looking at me that you've heard the rumors that we
have some dangerous ecoterrorist members. Rest assured, those are just rumors. No basis in fact. I haven't
done anything the Feds consider a crime since I was a
wild teenager." He had an endearing twinkle in his eye.
"Quite a ways back, as you can see." The man had to be
pushing sixty.
Sullivan took a seat in the leather chair facing him,
and I sat down in my usual spot. "Richard was a friend of
mine, too," Sullivan said. "How'd you meet him?"
"He worked as my consultant while I was forming
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 65
Earth Love. We met over the Internet, something like ten
or fifteen years ago. I was still in Juneau at the time."
"I hear it's beautiful up there," I remarked.
"Sure is. My parents were hippies and raised me in
Alaska. A commune, actually." He chuckled. "We never
had a TV. Took me till I was in my late twenties to discover that most folks in the lower forty-eight figured getting a piece of the good life was all that mattered, and
natural resources be damned. Now someone's killed one
of the world's true guardian angels. All I've heard about
his death is he was teaching a conservation class and poisoned himself with paint, thinking it was nontoxic."
"That's about the extent of our knowledge, too,"
Sullivan said. "Someone replaced his can with a toxic
one. He was murdered."
"And earlier that same day, he'd filed charges against
your client to boot him from the competition. True?"
"We don't know if those two things are related," I interjected firmly. "What we do know is that Burke Stratton
would like to clear his name as quickly as possible." I exchanged glances with Sullivan, realizing too late that I
must have sounded cold and even heartless to him.
"I should have figured out this could happen," Walter
muttered. "To recognize that there'd be some problems,
at the very least."
"Pardon?" I asked, confused.
"Never mind. Just thinking out loud. I should have advised Richard not to agree to be judge. Hindsight's always
twenty-twenty, as they say."
"Judging the contest might not have had anything to
do with his death," I said, pressing my point. "For all we
know, the police might be on the verge of arresting some
bitter ex-employee or jealous lover."
66 L e s l i e C a i n e
"Did Richard say anything to you about Burke
Stratton?" Sullivan asked, ignoring me.
Walter shook his head. "Name means nothing to me.
You two must know him pretty well, though. You think
he's nuts enough to kill a man just because he caught
him cheating in a contest?"
"Not in my opinion," I answered quickly.
Walter fixed his gaze on Sullivan, who had merely
clenched his jaw. "You disagree?"
"They'd had a major blowup a few years ago."
"Ah. Sure. Sure."
Walter shifted his attention to me as if expecting a rebuttal, but no way was I going to get into a big disagreement right now. It was disconcerting that Walter's
energies appeared to be much more focused on investigating Richard's death than on judging the contest.
"Have you had a chance to examine whatever reports
Richard filed with Earth Love about Stratton's violations?" I asked.
He rolled his eyes. "What there is of them. He cited
Stratton for tampering with his meters and with his water
allocations. But he doesn't list any of the actual evidence
that led him to those conclusions. Guess he figured he'd
be presenting that at the hearing."
"When's that going to take place?" I asked.
"Soon as possible. We're hoping for Monday, if that
works out for Dr. Stratton."
"Is that going to be enough time?" Sullivan asked.
"You're going to need the police to release whatever evidence Richard had collected, and then examine it yourself."
Walter lifted his palms. "Vanished. If it ever existed in
the first place."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 67
"Wait." Sullivan gaped at him. "You mean, all of
Richard's belongings have been searched in the past
twenty-four hours, and you're already certain Richard's
evidence against Burke can't be found?"
"According to the officer I spoke with this
morning,
Richard had all the files from Earth Love with him in his
car. Not a single report regarding Dr. Stratton's violations, though. His latest notes in his journals were examined. Nothing about Stratton. The contents of his desk
and file cabinets were inventoried. Under the circumstances, we're just going to have to go with what little
we've got. If more information turns up, we'll hold a second hearing and reexamine the issue."
"Why hold a hearing at all?" Sullivan grumbled.
"You're obviously going to clear him."
"Earth Love's trying to follow their own contest guidelines as best they can, I guess," Walter replied. He patted
his thighs twice, then rose. "Good meeting you both.
Thanks for chatting with me. I'll be seeing you again, I'm
sure."
I got up and shook Walter's hand. I thanked him for
stepping in to help out with the contest, then offered a
few words of condolence for the loss of his friend.
Sullivan shook his hand as well.
Just a few seconds after Walter had closed the door,
Sullivan turned to me. "That proves it, as far as I'm concerned. The evidence that Burke was cheating had to
have been stolen from Richard. And only Burke would
benefit from its sudden disappearance."
More likely there was no evidence in the first place, I
thought glumly. "Burke isn't necessarily the only one
who'd have benefited. I had an interesting conversation
with Jeremy Greene yesterday evening. There's something
68 L e s l i e C a i n e
fishy going on with him. Did you know that several months
ago, Richard was suing him for an inadequate design of his
foundation?"
"Whose foundation?"
"Richard's. Jeremy was his architect for the house that
he built five years ago."
"Huh. That's . . ." He let his voice trail off.
"Jeremy said it was the builder who loused up and
nothing was wrong with his design. The strange thing is,
though, that Richard was suing Jeremy, not the builder.
In any case, I'm worried about Burke's basement now."
Steve paced. "Jeremy stood to lose invaluable publicity for his design, if Richard kicked Burke out of the contest," he said thoughtfully. "Still, though, Burke was the
only one who would have been publicly accused of
cheating when Richard's evidence was presented in the
newspapers."
I considered arguing the point, but held my tongue.
He started to collect his things, including his portfolio
case. "I've got to head to Jennifer's house."
"Jennifer Fairfax? Our presentation for her isn't till
noon, is it?"
"No, she moved it up. She wanted me to show her our
design, then take her to the Denver Design Center this
morning."
"Really? When did she suddenly decide all of that?"
And why was I being cut out of the equation?
"Uh, yesterday. I ran into her downtown. She said she
was free all morning and wanted to move our presentation up. I figured the least I could do after you covered
for me all day yesterday was to do it solo and free up your
lunch hour today."
"Great," I said in a monotone. "Thanks."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 69
He did a double take. "You don't have a problem with
this, do you? I'm just taking her to the Design Center,
not the Brown Palace."
My problem was that Jennifer Fairfax was a gorgeous
divorcee who blatantly flirted with Sullivan every chance
she got. And should I point out that he hadn't as much as
mentioned the change to my schedule till now, after I'd
pried the information out of him? If this had been a
simple case of a client changing an appointment, he
wouldn't be acting so defensive.
Apparently it wasn't just Burke who had a potentially
crumbling foundation. I forced a smile. "No problem.
Have fun."
c h a p t e r 6
You can't help but take special pride
in home-improvement projects when
you've done them yourself. On the
other hand, if you're all thumbs, you
can take pride in being smart enough
to hire good help.
--Audrey Munroe
"I'm really not sure about this base color,
Erin." Audrey crinkled her nose and stood with
BLISS her hands on her hips by the dining room table,
peering at my handiwork."It's a little too beige."
I took a deep, calming breath and counted
to ten. Truth be told, I hadn't been pleased with
the beige myself, but this was Audrey's house,
after all, so I'd proceeded after checking with
her repeatedly about the color--back when it
would have been a snap to repaint."That's because it is beige."
"Oh, I know. But this is a linen beige. I think I'd
have preferred a lemon beige."
DOMESTIC
"Lemon versus linen. Interesting difference in
enunciation." I was babbling, trying not to lose
D o m e s t i c B l i s s 7 1
my temper. She'd made up both of those names. The
nicely descriptive name of the muted yellow that she
should have allowed me to use was "buttermilk."
Audrey, meanwhile, was rifling through my books of
paint chips. She paused and studied one. "Here." She
tapped it with her fingernail."This is perfect."
With a sigh, I set down my little one-inch roller. Just
three feet remained unpainted on my final stripe in the
entire room. I wiped off my hands and joined her. She
was leaning against the buffet. We'd moved all the
furniture to the center of the room and, on Audrey's insistence, had draped drop cloths over it in an unnecessary step of caution. If only she'd taken this much care
with her paint selections.
one I recommended when we first started." That color
would brighten this sometimes too dark northernexposure room. It would also make a lovely contrast with
the forest green upholstery of her chairs.
"Is it?" She held it up to the sunlight."Oh, so it is. Excellent recommendation, Erin. I should have listened."
"Thank you." I started to put away the paint for the
accent stripes.
"No, wait. I love the navy blue and the lilac stripes you
painted. Those colors are perfect."
I continued to tap down the lid with my hammer. All
paint cans seem to have an amazing resistance to being properly resealed. At least by me, that is. "They're
painted on top of the beige, Audrey."
"What are you saying?"
72 L e s l i e C a i n e
"That it might be time to hire a professional painter.
And that, in any case, it's time to call it a night."
She winced."In other words, all the stripes have to be
redone, too? Oh, dear. I should have said something
much sooner."
"It's all right, Audrey."
She surveyed the room, turning a slow circle. "You
know what, Erin? I was wrong. This beige is just fine. Let's
keep it as is."
"No. We can change color schemes completely, or
rethink the faux wallpaper, but keeping this paint is the
one option that's off the ta
ble."
"I mean it," Audrey protested. "It's fine. I like the
beige."
"You don't call anything 'fine,' Audrey.You're not one
to settle. And there is no way I'm going to let you
change your . . . spots now."
"But I don't want you to be angry at me."
"I'm not. And in any case, right now, I'm working as
your designer, and I've got to handle this situation the
same way I would at any other client's house. No designer worth her salt wants her client to cave merely for
the sake of not causing trouble. We would much rather
redo something five times than do it just once but leave
the client less than thrilled with the results."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. And especially in this case, because I
agree with you. That buttermilk color will not only set off
the design, but it will also complement the yellow tones
in your kitchen."
D o m e s t i c B l i s s 7 3
"Which is precisely what you told me at the start. I'm
sorry."
"It's really all right, Audrey. But I do think it's best at this
point to hire a professional. For painting the base color
only; I'll still do the stripes. This way we'll have a nice
clean--and wonderful--canvas for painting the faux
wallpaper design, and I won't feel like I need to rush
things, which is when painting mistakes happen."
"If that's really what you want."
"Just don't let the pros talk you into hiring them for
painting the stripes and the roses. I really want to do that
myself."
"Deal." She peered at me and to my surprise, gave
me a hug, which was a little out of character for her.
Afterwards she held my gaze for a moment."This isn't exactly the way you wanted to be spending your Friday
night, is it?"
An understatement. Right around now, Sullivan and I
should have finished a romantic dinner in Denver and
been walking hand in hand in Larimer Square to the
concert venue. "It's not how you'd like to be spending
yours, either, I'm sure."
"Well, but my heart isn't invested in any one man, so
it's different. I've got my little black book at the ready
anytime I choose to access it."
"Good for you."
"If you want to consider dating considerably older
men, I can let you borrow it."
I laughed."Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
I resumed putting away the painting supplies. Even
74 L e s l i e C a i n e