High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

for two?"

"Candles? I mean, that wouldn't be—"

"Dine on cold raspberry soup and medallions of veal in cognac cream?"

"I… I'm not sure…."

"Make love to you in a hundred-and-twenty-year-old brass bed in front of a

fireplace in a room completely made of golden marble?"

"Well… maybe just this once."

"How about just this twice?" He threw her a wicked smile.

"Tyber!" She blushed.

"Or just this thrice?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're starting up again."

"Probably."

Tyber had elected to take back country roads instead of the highway so they

could enjoy the spectacular New England foliage at a leisurely pace.

His schedule of a five-hour trip was totally optimistic since they had already

stopped twice—once at a picturesque farm to buy a huge pumpkin to take back with

them for Halloween and another time at a roadside stand to buy a bushel of

apples and a zucchini bread.

"We have to leave room back there for a couple of jugs of maple syrup. I

promised Blooey we'd bring him back some."

Zanita kneeled on the seat to peer through the back window. "There's plenty of

room back there. We can even bring Hambone some Vermont mice."

"He'd love that."

Zanita reached down to her purse and withdrew the dossier on LaLeche.

Tyber glanced over and when he saw what she had in her hands, he briefly closed

his eyes. "Tell me you didn't bring that with you."

"Of course I did. We need to study it so we know what we're dealing with."

"We know what we're dealing with—a scam artist."

"Yes, but there's nothing concrete in here to nail him with."

"Do you suppose that could be the reason he isn't in jail?" He asked

facetiously.

"Why do you think they had this on him?" Zanita had not discussed with Tyber how

he had gotten the documents. She really didn't want to know, and she more than

suspected he really didn't want her to know.

"Apparently, according to the report, he's been under investigation for some

time by the bunko unit, as well as being under suspicion for a number of other

Federal crimes."

"I don't see that here."

"I must have forgotten to give you those sheets."

As if Tyber ever would make such a mistake! So he had chosen to hide some of the

more sensitive documents from her. Okay. She could live with that. As long as he

came clean with her concerning any other information.

"If there are any other… sheets you've forgotten to give me, perhaps you can

just fill me in."

He pulled the truck to the side of the road and shut the engine.

"What are you doing? Why did you sto—"

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately.

Then he started the truck and got on the road again, leaving her completely

stunned.

"What on earth did you do that for?"

"I like your style, baby. Always have." He gave her a roguish grin.

Well, I'll have to do that again sometime, she thought. That is, once I figure

out exactly what it is he thinks I did.

Chapter Eight

« ^ »

"Dimitri Ziest, Marvin Broconol, Damon Green, Xavier LaLeche—all aliases at one

time or another." Zanita flipped through the dossier. "Born Steven Liss, 1948,

in Buffalo, New York. Only son of Marguerite Liss. Father unknown."

"This sounds like we're entering the Twilight Zone." Tyber swung the truck onto

a side road.

"Submitted for your speculation…" Zanita hummed the theme song.

Tyber laughed. "What else does it say?"

She gave him a look that said, you know very well what it says. "He lived under

many different names in many states: Massachusetts, California, Ohio—"

"Where did he stay the longest?"

"Um—" She scanned the form. "California. Why?"

"I don't know yet. What about the other places—is there a pattern for length of

stay?"

"Actually, yes, now that you mention it. About four months in each city. Why do

you suppose that is?"

"He left before things got hot for him, always one step ahead of implication and

the law. I suspect that's how he's managed to elude full-scale investigation by

local authorities. How long was he in California?"

"Two years. What do you make of that?"

"I think there was a definite reason he needed to be in California for that

length of time. From his profile, he's not the type of man who just goes with

the flow like flotsam and jetsam, buffeted about by the currents. No, this man

controls his life—every aspect. He was there for a purpose."

"Any ideas?"

"Not yet. Where did he live when he resided in California?"

"Let's see… San Francisco, briefly; then L.A."

"I seem to remember something about an electronics plant there."

She nodded. "It almost seems as if he went legit for a couple of years; he

worked for a company called Space Age Systems. An investigator noted in the

margin that it was a respectable company. They manufacture shuttle components. I

don't see any connection there, do you?"

"No. It had to be something he was doing on the side. Anything else?" He entered

a private drive leading up to a breathtaking mansion.

"Nothing definitive. I wonder if—what are we doing here?" Zanita looked up at

the palatial house and manicured grounds.

"Welcome to the Marble Manor Inn." He stopped the truck in front of the portico.

"Tyber, you're kidding! This is beautiful."

"It is." Tyber scrutinized the interesting architectural details fondly.

"Beautiful. It was built in the mid-1800s from locally quarried golden marble.

The original carriage house is still standing. See?" He pointed to the rear of

the house.

"Wow! I can't wait to see the inside. Will we really have a room made out of

marble?"

Tyber swung their suitcase out of the truck, resting it on the driveway. He

lifted her chin with the edge of his hand, brushing her lips with his own. "Of

course we will."

She threw her arms around his neck, bringing his head down for a deeper kiss.

"This is wonderful, Doc. Really wonderful."

"It's just the beginning," he promised, kissing her once more before he released

her, leading her into the inn.

The inn was a splendid example of Tyber's preferred Victorian charm, and Zanita

wasn't really surprised he had chosen it for their stay. They eagerly explored

the downstairs before checking into their room.

Fresh flowers, exquisitely arranged in vases, graced every chamber. The ceilings

were all thirteen feet high, with carved moldings and crystal chandeliers

brilliantly suspended from rosette medallions.

There were several parlors, each furnished in opulent