not legally. You want large or small?"
"If we're talking prison sentences, I choose none of the above!"
"Calm down," Zac said. "I'm talking about chowder. Do you want the large or small size?"
"Small. I've lost my appetite."
"That's the best news I've had all week." Zac released her arm and went over to the sidewalk counter to place the order.
Guinevere watched him collect and pay for the Styrofoam cups of chowder. She wondered what on earth she was going to do now. It had never occurred to her that she would get this involved in Zac's investigation. Now that the possibility had been thrust upon her she was uneasily aware that she wasn't as averse to the idea as she ought to be. A strange curiosity was beginning to nibble at her.
Perhaps it was the natural result of being caught up in the situation. The questions Zac was trying to answer, after all, constituted the reasons he had blackmailed her in the first place. She was bound to be curious about them, and it was definitely in her best interests that the answers be found. When Zac had solved his riddles, she would be free.
"Do you have any logical reason to think that Cal Bender's somehow involved in this mess?" She accepted her cupful of chowder along with the plastic spoon as Zac headed toward an openair seating area. The half-enclosed space was filled with benches and tables and warmed by overhead heaters. Even though it was rapidly getting dark, sea gulls still wheeled and soared hopefully as they waited for the odd french fry or bit of fried fish. Sea gulls are not fussy eaters.
"No."
She eyed him warily. "I'm not sure that's sufficient grounds for searching his house."
"The first thing you learn in my line of work, Gwen, is that there seldom are sufficient grounds for doing things like this. If you had sufficient grounds, you wouldn't need to go hunting in the first place. You'd already have enough answers to work with."
"I can see there are several subtle nuances to be picked up on the job. Are you good at your line of work, Zac?"
"I'll find out when I file my income taxes at the end of the year."
"The bottom line." Guinevere sipped the hot chowder, aware of a sudden sensation of comradeship. She didn't like it and banished it at once. She knew she shouldn't allow herself to be drawn into the trap of feeling as though she had something in common with this man. "What did you do before you went into business for yourself here in Seattle, Zac?"
He slid her a curious glance. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged. "Maybe it's just natural to want to know something about a man who's blackmailing you."
"I see your point." He opened several packets of crackers, pulverized them in one large hand, and dumped the remains into his soup. "I worked overseas a lot. The Middle East and Asia mostly."
"Doing what?"
"I was employed by a large firm that specialized in providing advice for U.S. companies doing business in other countries. Hotels, construction firms, outfits like that. My business cards said I was a consultant."
In spite of her best intentions, Guinevere's curiosity grew. "What kind of consulting did you do?"
Zac concentrated on his soup. "I was supposed to analyze and assess security needs. Make recommendations. That kind of thing."
"Why aren't you still doing it?"
"Got tired of all the traveling. And I guess I got tired of working for someone else." He turned on her before she could formulate another question. "What about you, Gwen? What did you do before you set up Camelot Services?"
"You mean you don't know? Your investigation of me must have been somewhat limited."
"I didn't have time to do a thorough job," he said patiently. "I just found out what I had to know before I contacted you. I know you have one sister, your credit rating is good, and Camelot Services has been in business only a year. What did you do before that?"
"This and that." She could be succinct and laconic too.
"Gwen, I'm trying to make friendly, interested, comradely conversation.
"If we're talking prison sentences, I choose none of the above!"
"Calm down," Zac said. "I'm talking about chowder. Do you want the large or small size?"
"Small. I've lost my appetite."
"That's the best news I've had all week." Zac released her arm and went over to the sidewalk counter to place the order.
Guinevere watched him collect and pay for the Styrofoam cups of chowder. She wondered what on earth she was going to do now. It had never occurred to her that she would get this involved in Zac's investigation. Now that the possibility had been thrust upon her she was uneasily aware that she wasn't as averse to the idea as she ought to be. A strange curiosity was beginning to nibble at her.
Perhaps it was the natural result of being caught up in the situation. The questions Zac was trying to answer, after all, constituted the reasons he had blackmailed her in the first place. She was bound to be curious about them, and it was definitely in her best interests that the answers be found. When Zac had solved his riddles, she would be free.
"Do you have any logical reason to think that Cal Bender's somehow involved in this mess?" She accepted her cupful of chowder along with the plastic spoon as Zac headed toward an openair seating area. The half-enclosed space was filled with benches and tables and warmed by overhead heaters. Even though it was rapidly getting dark, sea gulls still wheeled and soared hopefully as they waited for the odd french fry or bit of fried fish. Sea gulls are not fussy eaters.
"No."
She eyed him warily. "I'm not sure that's sufficient grounds for searching his house."
"The first thing you learn in my line of work, Gwen, is that there seldom are sufficient grounds for doing things like this. If you had sufficient grounds, you wouldn't need to go hunting in the first place. You'd already have enough answers to work with."
"I can see there are several subtle nuances to be picked up on the job. Are you good at your line of work, Zac?"
"I'll find out when I file my income taxes at the end of the year."
"The bottom line." Guinevere sipped the hot chowder, aware of a sudden sensation of comradeship. She didn't like it and banished it at once. She knew she shouldn't allow herself to be drawn into the trap of feeling as though she had something in common with this man. "What did you do before you went into business for yourself here in Seattle, Zac?"
He slid her a curious glance. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged. "Maybe it's just natural to want to know something about a man who's blackmailing you."
"I see your point." He opened several packets of crackers, pulverized them in one large hand, and dumped the remains into his soup. "I worked overseas a lot. The Middle East and Asia mostly."
"Doing what?"
"I was employed by a large firm that specialized in providing advice for U.S. companies doing business in other countries. Hotels, construction firms, outfits like that. My business cards said I was a consultant."
In spite of her best intentions, Guinevere's curiosity grew. "What kind of consulting did you do?"
Zac concentrated on his soup. "I was supposed to analyze and assess security needs. Make recommendations. That kind of thing."
"Why aren't you still doing it?"
"Got tired of all the traveling. And I guess I got tired of working for someone else." He turned on her before she could formulate another question. "What about you, Gwen? What did you do before you set up Camelot Services?"
"You mean you don't know? Your investigation of me must have been somewhat limited."
"I didn't have time to do a thorough job," he said patiently. "I just found out what I had to know before I contacted you. I know you have one sister, your credit rating is good, and Camelot Services has been in business only a year. What did you do before that?"
"This and that." She could be succinct and laconic too.
"Gwen, I'm trying to make friendly, interested, comradely conversation.
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