The Price of Greed

CHAPTER 18

The Enland Company was a four storey, glass and steel cube on a billiard table green, velvet hill, surrounded by professionally placed bushy maples and lacy willow trees. A discrete sign at the driveway entrance stated the company name and the four-figure address number; triflers were discouraged.

Jarlayne steered her sports coupe up the long drive and selected a spot in the visitor's section shaded by of one of the larger trees. The weather had done a one-eighty and turned much warmer than the usual May offering. Jarlayne had chosen a cotton blouse with a sleeveless vest, and a full, lightweight skirt in a matching shade of gunmetal blue. A coloured strap between painted toes held on her two-inch sandals.

She strode confidently up to and through the large glass doors into the high ceilinged lobby, all terrazzo pillars and black onyx, security and reception counters.

"May I help you?" A perfectly preserved woman, reminiscent of computer generated images, with a Bluetooth piece in her ear, displayed perfect teeth as she smiled her greeting.

Jarlayne pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, placed her purse on the counter and withdrew a business card. "I'd like to speak with Mrs. Gloria Enland."

Perfection studied the card and then tapped a few keys on her ergonomic keyboard, muttered something quietly so Jarlayne couldn't hear, and then opened the smile again.

"Someone will be down in a few minutes to assist you. If you'd care to take a seat."

Dismissed and forgotten, Jarlayne wandered around the lobby, reading the various citations and testimonials touting Enland's achievements. Success in the custom software world appeared to be their industry boast. Private and government contracts both at home and abroad were highlighted through group photos of suited men in hard hats, grinning and holding shovels, snipping ribbons or beaming at banks of hi tech equipment.

When she heard the footsteps behind her, she turned and watched the young man striding toward her, his face set in a sincere but concerned veneer. He slowed to a halt several feet from her and glanced at the business card the receptionist had given him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I asked to see Mrs. Enland. I'm sorry; but my contact with her is through Mr. French's lawyers."

"Your con-tract, Miss Brighton, was terminated. Mr. French's lawyers called and informed us there would be a new investigator on the case. Consider that an official and final notification."

She walked over to him and assumed a contemplative posture. "Welcome or not, I have a very good reason for wanting to speak with Mrs. Enland, Mr...?"

"Delaney."

"Mr. Delaney. My business with Mrs. Enland has nothing to do—"

"It's not a matter for discussion, Miss Brighton. Mr. Enland has asked me to tell anyone asking that there will be no interviews with his wife."

Jarlayne didn't consider Storeman would have acted so quickly nor passed on the information about a change in investigators. She was casting about for another tack when the front doors whooshed open and was surprised as Detective Keith Hood stepped inside.

He straightened his wrinkled jacket and started toward the reception then stopped as his eye caught hold of her standing off to the side with the young man.

"Miss Brighton?" He strolled over, forming a curious grin. "What a coincidence." His pants held a similar pattern of wrinkles and Jarlayne assumed a car without air.

"Detective." She glanced at Delaney and saw him swallow. "I thought the police didn't believe in coincidences."

"Only some. Why are you here?"