Nemesis by Bill Pronzini

his forties stood in the open doorway talking to one of the women.
    When Runyon walked in, the man’s demeanor changed immediately. His posture shifted from a sideways lean to arrow straight and a hopeful smile with a lot of white teeth in it flashed on like a neon sign. The smile would have been more effective if it hadn’t been surrounded by a lot of tired-looking flesh etched with stress lines and red-rimmed blue eyes. He moved briskly enough across the office and introduced himself: Vincent Canaday, Gateway’s owner.
    The professional smile stayed put until they were closeted in the private office. When Runyon produced his license photostat and explained the purpose of his visit, the smile faded into a ghost of itself. Mention of Verity Daniels’s name seemed to make Canaday uncomfortable, wary.
    â€œIs … Ms. Daniels in some sort of trouble?”
    â€œWhy do you ask that?”
    â€œWell, a private detective … and all that money she inherited … I just assumed it. Is she in trouble?”
    â€œI can’t comment on the reasons for my investigation. Let’s just say it’s a routine matter.”
    â€œWhat is it you want from me?”
    â€œThe answers to a few questions, that’s all.”
    Canaday sat down behind his desk, shifted his shoulders, folded his hands on the blotter. “What do you want to know?” he asked, the cordiality a little strained now.
    â€œHow long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
    â€œThe day she quit, six months ago. Didn’t even give notice, just came in and told us about the inheritance and quit cold. Not that I blame her for that. I would probably have done the same myself.”
    â€œNo contact since then?”
    â€œNo. No reason for there to be.”
    Something in the man’s voice made Runyon ask, “What can you tell me about your relationship with her?”
    â€œRelationship? Oh, you mean here in the office. Well, I don’t know what I can tell you, except that she was a competent employee during the time I’ve owned the business.”
    â€œHow long is that?”
    â€œSix years come October. I was sorry to lose her, but of course delighted to hear of her windfall. I … hope it’s made a significant difference in her life, wherever she’s living now, whatever she’s doing.”
    â€œDid you suppose it wouldn’t?”
    â€œNo, of course not. It’s just that … well, sudden wealth doesn’t always change a person, does it? Their basic nature, I mean.”
    â€œNot always, no. What would you say her basic nature was?”
    Canaday cleared his throat, glanced at a framed color photograph canted so that Runyon could see it was of a red-haired woman and a boy of about twelve; his lips tightened and he cleared his throat again. “She seemed rather … lackluster, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œNot much personality. Bland, immature.” He seemed to savor the taste of the words in a bittersweet way; his mouth moved as if he were rolling them around on his tongue. “She wasn’t interested in the things most of us are. You know, politics, the economy, the environment. All she ever talked about was movies and TV shows. She didn’t have … didn’t seem to have any hobbies or interests.”
    â€œBoyfriends?”
    â€œNot that I know about,” Canaday said. “She never spoke about her private life. In my hearing, I mean.”
    â€œShe have friends among your staff?”
    â€œNo. No, she kept very much to herself.”
    â€œBut she got along with the other employees.”
    â€œOh, yes, sure.”
    â€œNo friction with any of your customers?”
    â€œNone. No, nothing like that.”
    â€œSo you’d say she was a model employee.”
    â€œI suppose so, yes. Did her job, hardly ever took a sick day.”
    â€œHonest,