you left the Institute. I urge you to call my office as soon as possibleâ¦.
The signature at the bottom was the same, too: Gordon R. Phillips, DPP. The initials stood for doctor of para-psychiatry.
He leaned over the arm of his chair, shoved the letter and the envelope into the shredder, and rezzed the machine. There was a high-pitched hum as the device turned the paper into confetti.
He settled back into the chair again. Trig was right. Dating someone involved in a case was against all the rules.
âProbably a mistake, Max.â
Max selected a shiny paper clip, removed it from the vase, and carried it across the desk to Davis.
âGood choice,â Davis said.
He attached the paper clip to the chain of clips that dangled from the reading lamp. Satisfied, Max hurried back to the vase and started searching for another suitable clip.
Davis thought for a while. Then he took his feet down off the desk and rezzed up the computer. There hadnât been an opportunity to do any research on Celinda Ingram this morning. Things had been moving too fast, what with finding the body, contacting the police, and tracking down the new owner of the relic.
It was time to take a closer look at his date.
Within a couple of minutes he found himself reading the first of a number of lurid headlines in the Frequency City tabloids.
Â
LOCAL GUILD COUNCIL MEMBERâS SECRET MISTRESS IS MATCHMAKER TO CITYâS ELITE
Â
The next one was similar in tone.
Â
HIGH-RANKING MEMBER OF THE FREQUENCY CITY GUILD INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH SOCIETY MATCHMAKER
Â
There were several more in the same vein. They all included grainy photographs of Celinda. In several she was seen leaping out of a rumpled hotel room bed. The photos had been cropped in a bow to good taste, but it was clear that she was wearing only a filmy negligee. There was a man in the background. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. In two other shots Celinda was shown in a white spa robe running barefoot across a parking lot.
He checked the dates. The salacious news stories were all dated four months earlier. The scandal had taken about ten days to run its course. After that there was no further mention of Celinda Ingram or her business, the Ingram Connection.
He tried the online Frequency City Directory, found a number, and dialed it. Someone answered almost immediately.
âRuin View Pizza.â
âI was given this number for the Ingram Connection,â Davis said.
âYeah, we get that a lot. The Ingram Connection had this number before us. It went out of business a few months ago.â
âThanks,â Davis said. He ended the call.
Max had selected another paper clip. Davis attached it to the chain and then settled back to read some of the tabloid pieces in greater depth. The sensational story about the matchmaker who had run the most elite marriage consulting agency in Frequency City had obsessed the papers. That wasnât surprising. Illicit sex always sold well. Add a powerful man and a woman whose personal reputation was one of her most important business assets, and you had the ingredients for a perfect scandal.
â¦Benson Landry, a high-ranking member of the local Guild Council, is reported to be involved in a torrid affair with noted matchmaker Celinda Ingram. The two were photographed together in intimate circumstances at the exclusive Lakeside Resort & Spa last weekend. The couple was registered under false names in an obvious attempt to avoid prying eyes.
Miss Ingram, whose exclusive matchmaking agency, the Ingram Connection, handles only Covenant Marriages, is the most sought-after marriage consultant in the city. There is speculation that Benson Landry will soon be tapped to head the Frequency City Guild when current chief Harold Taylor steps downâ¦.
He did a quick search on the Ingram Connection and learned that the agency had quietly closed its doors less than a week after the photographs at the Lakeside
The signature at the bottom was the same, too: Gordon R. Phillips, DPP. The initials stood for doctor of para-psychiatry.
He leaned over the arm of his chair, shoved the letter and the envelope into the shredder, and rezzed the machine. There was a high-pitched hum as the device turned the paper into confetti.
He settled back into the chair again. Trig was right. Dating someone involved in a case was against all the rules.
âProbably a mistake, Max.â
Max selected a shiny paper clip, removed it from the vase, and carried it across the desk to Davis.
âGood choice,â Davis said.
He attached the paper clip to the chain of clips that dangled from the reading lamp. Satisfied, Max hurried back to the vase and started searching for another suitable clip.
Davis thought for a while. Then he took his feet down off the desk and rezzed up the computer. There hadnât been an opportunity to do any research on Celinda Ingram this morning. Things had been moving too fast, what with finding the body, contacting the police, and tracking down the new owner of the relic.
It was time to take a closer look at his date.
Within a couple of minutes he found himself reading the first of a number of lurid headlines in the Frequency City tabloids.
Â
LOCAL GUILD COUNCIL MEMBERâS SECRET MISTRESS IS MATCHMAKER TO CITYâS ELITE
Â
The next one was similar in tone.
Â
HIGH-RANKING MEMBER OF THE FREQUENCY CITY GUILD INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH SOCIETY MATCHMAKER
Â
There were several more in the same vein. They all included grainy photographs of Celinda. In several she was seen leaping out of a rumpled hotel room bed. The photos had been cropped in a bow to good taste, but it was clear that she was wearing only a filmy negligee. There was a man in the background. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. In two other shots Celinda was shown in a white spa robe running barefoot across a parking lot.
He checked the dates. The salacious news stories were all dated four months earlier. The scandal had taken about ten days to run its course. After that there was no further mention of Celinda Ingram or her business, the Ingram Connection.
He tried the online Frequency City Directory, found a number, and dialed it. Someone answered almost immediately.
âRuin View Pizza.â
âI was given this number for the Ingram Connection,â Davis said.
âYeah, we get that a lot. The Ingram Connection had this number before us. It went out of business a few months ago.â
âThanks,â Davis said. He ended the call.
Max had selected another paper clip. Davis attached it to the chain and then settled back to read some of the tabloid pieces in greater depth. The sensational story about the matchmaker who had run the most elite marriage consulting agency in Frequency City had obsessed the papers. That wasnât surprising. Illicit sex always sold well. Add a powerful man and a woman whose personal reputation was one of her most important business assets, and you had the ingredients for a perfect scandal.
â¦Benson Landry, a high-ranking member of the local Guild Council, is reported to be involved in a torrid affair with noted matchmaker Celinda Ingram. The two were photographed together in intimate circumstances at the exclusive Lakeside Resort & Spa last weekend. The couple was registered under false names in an obvious attempt to avoid prying eyes.
Miss Ingram, whose exclusive matchmaking agency, the Ingram Connection, handles only Covenant Marriages, is the most sought-after marriage consultant in the city. There is speculation that Benson Landry will soon be tapped to head the Frequency City Guild when current chief Harold Taylor steps downâ¦.
He did a quick search on the Ingram Connection and learned that the agency had quietly closed its doors less than a week after the photographs at the Lakeside
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