The Thunder Keeper(28)
Steve let out a long sigh. “Don’t you ever give up?”
The buzz of conversation, the sound of glass tinkling, drifted between them a moment. Finally he said in a lowered voice, “Lewis climbed the ladder to vice-president of development and Nathan Baider’s right-hand man in only three years. He was hard-driving and ambitious. A profile that would probably fit a lot of guys in this dining room.” He nodded at the tables stretching toward the maître d’s station. Some were empty now.
“Nobody knows what’ll happen when another man takes the chief’s seat, but Roz made it sound like Lewis would be part of the reorganization.”
“Reorganization?”
Steve shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time a son decided he could do things better.”
Vicky sat quietly for a moment, only half-aware of the flashes of white jackets bobbing past. “Suppose,” she began, “that Lewis wasn’t going to be part of the reorganized company. Maybe he’d want to blow the whistle about a secret diamond deposit.”
Steve was shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you’ve been watching too many detective shows.” He leaned over the table, so close she could smell the mustard and coffee on his breath. “Nobody at Baider Industries mentioned anything about Lewis being out. Just the opposite. He was the brains. Roz needed the man.”
Vicky felt a longing to be back in Lander, at the café on Main Street, John O’Malley across from her, examining her theory piece by piece, looking for the logical pattern. There was always a pattern.
The waiter appeared with a small black folder, and Vicky dug in her bag for a couple of bills, which Steve waved away. “It’s been a long time since you had lunch with me.” He slipped a credit card into the folder. “Look, Vicky,” he said, “I understand your worry. I’ll have another talk with senior and junior Baider. Maybe they forgot to mention a diamond deposit on the res.”
“Will you let me know what you find out?”
He was signing the charge slip, collecting his card. He looked up. “I’ll let you know.”
They slid out of the booth at the same moment, and he ushered her through the maze of tables and into the courtyard that connected the Pavilions’ shops to the Sixteenth Street mall. She could feel the firm pressure of his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the concrete steps to the sidewalk.
“I’d like to see you, Vicky,” he said, guiding her to one side, away from the crowd. The shuttle swooshed along the mall.
“As soon as you find out—”
“Forget the Lewis case a minute. You’re unattached, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “So am I. So what’s wrong with two unattached people, a beautiful woman and a so-so guy, getting together?”
Vicky raised one hand, but before she could say anything, he said, “You know I’ve been attracted to you since you bumped into me on campus. That was deliberate, right?” He grinned.
“Deliberate?”
“You saw me coming through the door. Next thing I know, I’m picking up your papers and notes all over the stairs. You got my attention all right.”
Vicky threw her head back and laughed. “It could’ve been an orangutan coming through the door, Steve. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
A small shadow of pain crossed his face.
“I’m very glad it was you,” she said hurriedly. “You did such a good job of getting all of my notes before they blew away, and—” She paused. “You’ve been a good friend.”
“How about having dinner with a good friend?”
Vicky looked away. A trio of men in dark suits glanced at them as they passed by. She’d been thinking about John O’Malley all during lunch, she realized. He had never said to her “have dinner with me.”
“You were right earlier,” she said, bringing her eyes back. “I’m still running from what happened on the res.” She saw in his expression that he thought she meant the shooting. “I need some time.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time. I can wait a little longer.” He made a halfhearted attempt at a shrug.
She was about to turn away when his hand reached out and touched her shoulder, holding her lightly in place. “Promise me you’ll stay out of this investigation, Vicky. If it is homicide and the guy who killed Lewis thinks you’re trying to find out why, he could come after you.”
“I promise not to do anything rash,” she said.
“Don’t do anything at all.” A note of sternness in his voice.
She smiled, then slipped past him and joined the knots of people on the sidewalk. She waited for another shuttle to glide past, trailing pneumatic sounds, then started across the bricked pathway, only half-aware of his eyes following her. She was thinking that a woman who had filed for divorce might be willing to talk about her husband’s activities at Baider Industries.