He Huffed and He Puffed by Barbara Paul Page B

was hoping that was exactly what he would do. Phil might believe Jack’s story, might not; Strode didn’t much care. But Phil McKinstry was a businessman; he’d know when it was time to deal. Strode was counting on him to knock some sense into Jack’s head. If he didn’t hear from somebody named McKinstry in the next couple of days, he’d send a copy of the affidavit to Phil.
    What would Phil do then? He’d have several options. He could force Jack to sell his shares to Strode. He could refuse to clean up his brother’s messes any longer and kick him out. He could be so horrified by what Jack had done that he’d turn him over to the police. Or, he could hire detectives to investigate the authenticity of the affidavit; but Strode had made sure Billy the pilot was well hidden away until this matter was settled. Billy was just a little too willing to take money from anyone who offered it.
    All in all, Strode thought it most likely that Phil would simply kick Jack out. The current amity between the brothers had to be tenuous at best; Phil wouldn’t risk the family and business name to cover up for a brother he already looked upon as something of a scapegrace. The only real danger was that he might turn his brother over to the police, thus defusing Strode’s most potent weapon. But Strode didn’t think Phil would go that far. And once Jack found himself on his own, he’d come around. But he might first think of solving this problem the same way he’d solved the Tony Dwyer problem four years ago. Well, he’d find A. J. Strode was no sitting duck.
    Strode buzzed his secretary and told her he wanted to see the chief of security immediately.
    It was a toss-up as to whether Myron Castleberry was more nervous or more curious; he’d never met a murderer before. Mr. Strode dealt with some pretty tough people—but a killer ? Castleberry wasn’t worried that Joanna Gillespie would whip out her gun and let him have it right between the eyes. Not here, not in a public place. But there was no way he could view her as just another business adversary. Jo Gillespie was different, to say the least.
    Castleberry glanced over to the next table where the security guard was seated. She’d said Fiorello’s at four; he and his guard had arrived early and taken two of the sidewalk tables. The inside of the restaurant was a little claustrophobic for a meeting such as this one. Not one to waste a gastronomic opportunity, the security guard had ordered a hot sausage sandwich and was making short work of it.
    There she was. Castleberry watched her approach; Joanna Gillespie had an unattractive slouch and a don’t-give-a-damn walk. She made her way through the crowd of strangers on the sidewalk, both fists thrust into the pockets of her jacket and a shoulder bag bouncing off one hip in rhythm to her walk. Castleberry stood and said, “Ms Gillespie? Mr. Strode has asked me to meet you. He—”
    â€œHe’s not here?” she interrupted. “He agreed to come!”
    This woman kills people , Castleberry reminded himself. “I’m sure you’ll understand when I say Mr. Strode is reluctant to meet with you again in light of what happened last time. We have to take such threats seriously.”
    â€œThreats? Oh—you mean the gun?”
    â€œI mean the gun.” Castleberry was not prepared for her reaction; she burst out laughing. “It’s not funny, Ms Gillespie.”
    â€œYes it is! What about you? Aren’t you afraid to meet me alone?” She laughed again.
    Silently he gestured toward the next table. The guard moved his jacket just enough to let her see the shoulder holster he was wearing.
    She stopped laughing. “Good lord, you are serious, aren’t you? You needn’t be, you know. It was just that he made me mad, the way he—” She broke off. “There’s no way to explain it to someone who