Erica Spindler - Killer Takes All

Something in her friend’s expression caused her steps to falter.

Leo glanced back. “Stacy? Something wrong?”

She shook off the sensation and smiled. “Nothing. Lead the way.”

Tuesday, March 8, 2005

1:00 p.m.

After two days hanging around the Noble mansion, Stacy had a clear understanding of why Leo had used the word troupe to describe the mansion’s inhabitants-life in the house was like a three-ring circus, with people coming and going, all day long. Personal trainers, manicurists, delivery people, lawyers, business associates.

She had advised Leo to treat her the same as he would any new employee. She’d learned that meant a sort of sink-or-swim introduction to the household. He had given her an office that adjoined his, and she had spent a lot of the time wandering around, trying to look busy. As she ran across people, she’d introduced herself.

People’s responses to her had varied from cool, to curious, to friendly. In the three days she’d met everyone but Alice, which she found most interesting.

Especially since she had met the girl’s tutor, Clark Dunbar. He was quiet, in the way some intellectuals were, but seemed to her to always be watching and listening. Like a cat who’s seen but not heard.

Mrs. Maitlin avoided her. When their paths did cross, she acted jumpy. She looked everywhere but directly at Stacy. Even though Stacy had apologized for tricking the woman and claimed Leo had asked her to play the part, she suspected the woman knew she was here for a reason other than technical expertise. She only hoped she kept her suspicions to herself.

Troy, Leo’s driver and guy Friday had been the friendliest of the lot-but also the nosiest. She wondered at his questions-was he simply curious or did he have darker motivations?

Barry had proved the quietest. As groundskeeper and pool man, he had plenty of opportunity to chat with people coming or going, but he never did. Instead, he kept to himself-although he seemed to see everything that went on.

Stacy glanced at her watch and collected her things. She’d attended her 8:00 a.m. class but needed to get back out to UNO to make her two-thirty medieval lit.

“Hello.”

Stacy turned. A teenage girl stood in the doorway to Leo’s office. She was small and slender, with her mother’s coloring and exotic features but her father’s wild, wavy hair.

Alice . Finally.

“Hi,” she said, smiling at the girl. “I’m Stacy.”

The girl looked bored. “I know. You’re the cop.”

“Former cop,” Stacy corrected. “I’m helping your dad with technical stuff.”

Alice arched an eyebrow and sauntered into the office. “Stuff,” she repeated. “Now that’s technical.”

This was no ordinary sixteen-year-old. She would do well to remember that. “I’m his technical adviser,” she corrected. “On all things associated with law enforcement.”

“And crime?”

“Yes, of course.”

“A crime expert. Interesting.”

Stacy ignored the gibe. “Some think so.”

“Dad’s been all over me to stop down here and introduce myself. You know who I am, right?”

“Alice Noble. Named for the most famous Alice.”

“The White Rabbit’s Alice.”

“That’s an odd way to put it. I would have said Lewis Carroll’s character.”

“But you’re not me.”

The girl crossed to the bookshelves that lined the walls. She picked up a framed photo of her and her parents. She gazed at it a moment, then glanced back at Stacy. “I’m smarter than them both,” she said. “Did Dad tell you that?”

“Yes. He’s very proud of you.”

“Only. 4 percent of people have an IQ of 140 and above. Mine’s 170. Only one in seven hundred thousand have an IQ that high.”

Her father wasn’t the only one who was proud. “You’re a very bright young woman.”

“Yes, I am.” She frowned. “I thought we should talk. Set the ground rules.”

Intrigued, Stacy set down her book bag and thought of her class, conscious of time passing. “Shoot.”

“I don’t care why you’re working for Dad. Just stay out of my way.”

“Have I done something to offend you?”

“Not at all. Dad has all sorts of hangers-on, and I’m not interested in getting to know any of them.”

“Hangers-on?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Dad’s rich. And charismatic. People flock to him. Some are starstruck. Some are sincere. The rest are merely leeches.”

Stacy folded her arms across her chest, intrigued. “What about me? I accepted a job from him, does that constitute flocking?”

“It’s not about you.” The girl lifted a shoulder. “He hooks up with someone new, is all excited about them, then it’s over. I’ve learned not to get attached.”

Interesting. Seemed there had been a number of severed relationships in the Noble troupe. Could one of them be carrying a grudge?

“Sounds like you’ve been here before.”

“I have. Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

The first thing approaching a smile touched the girl’s mouth. It softened her face. “I appreciate that.”

She left the office, having to duck by her tutor on the way out. Clark Dunbar. Forty-something. Long, thin face. Bookish. Good looking in a professional way.

He watched her go, then turned back to Stacy. “What was that all about?”

Stacy smiled. “She was setting ground rules. Putting me in my place.”

“I was afraid of that. Teenagers can be trying.”

“Especially ones who are so bright.”

He leaned against the doorjamb, his tall, lanky frame seeming to fill it. She noticed how startlingly blue his eyes were and wondered if they were colored contacts. “Even the most wonderful gift can sometimes be a burden.”

She had never thought of it quite that way, but it was true. “You’ve had experience with gifted kids?”

“I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“More like Clark Dunbar, super tutor.”

He laughed. “I always wondered what my parents were thinking, naming me after the mild-mannered stiff who never got the girl.”

“What’s your middle name? Any help there?”

He hesitated. “None, I’m afraid. It’s Randolf.”

She laughed and waved him in. She sat on the edge of her desk; he in the big chair in front of it. “Have you always been a private tutor?”

“Always been an educator,” he corrected. “Better pay and better hours in this. Better class of student.”

“That surprises me. Where did you teach?”

“Several universities.”

She arched her eyebrows. “And you prefer this?”

“It sounds hokey, but it’s a privilege to work with a mind like Alice ’s. And a thrill.”

“But if you taught university, surely many of your students-”

“Not like Alice. Her mind-” he paused, as if searching for the right description “-awes me.”

Stacy didn’t know what to say. She supposed someone as ordinary as herself couldn’t comprehend such an intellect.

He leaned slightly forward, expression almost mischievous. “Truth is, I’m a bit of a hippie throwback. I like the freedom private tutoring gives me. We set our own classes and times. Nothing is rote.”

“Sometimes the expected is a good thing.”

He nodded and leaned back in his seat. “You’re speaking of your own experiences now. A former homicide detective turned technical adviser? There’s a story in that, I’ll bet.”

“Just a badass turned softie.”

“Got tired of the blood and guts?”

“Something like that.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “I hate to cut this short, but-”