said. “He told me about the key logger.”
“I heard.” Landon snagged a white wine from a passing waiter. “Don’t hold it against him; he was just following orders. That’s what we all do, isn’t it? Me, you, him. All of us.”
He said this with his eyes focused on the entrance. Marisa circulated among the people now with much smiling and chatting and patting of backs. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her white column dress glowed like an opal in the low lights.
“Why?” Trey insisted. “Why not just ask me for it?”
“That defeats the purpose of undercover surveillance, now doesn’t it?”
“It was still wrong,” I said, “and probably illegal.”
“Trey’s computer is Phoenix property. He signed away his privacy when he signed his contract. So if either of you want to get your feelings hurt, I suggest you do it on your own time.”
He turned to leave, but I stepped into his path. “I heard Dylan Flint got shot to death and dumped in the Hooch. That was illegal, for sure.”
“You say that like Phoenix had something to do with it.”
“You broke into his house, destroyed his stuff, and then he’s killed before he can make a statement to the police, and you wonder why I think Phoenix had something to do with his death?”
I heard the rapid-fire vibrato of violins from somewhere behind me. Landon turned his face to the music. “He was in the business of betraying people for money, and he isn’t anymore. That’s something we can all be grateful for, especially you, Ms. Randolph.”
“Why me?”
“He broke into your shop, threatened you with those ridiculous bull’s eyes. I’d think you’d be glad to be rid of him.”
“He said he didn’t…wait a minute, how did you know about that?”
“We found the mock-ups on his computer. Pictures of you and a bull’s eye graphic.”
I glared at him. “You probably put them there yourself.”
Landon laughed, hearty and rich. “Contrary to what you may think, Ms. Randolph, I’ve got better things to do with my time than annoy you.” He looked at Trey. “Because I’ll make you the same promise I made Marisa when she decided to hire you—this firm is not going to turn into Psycho Central, at least not under my watch.”
And then he just walked off. Trey watched him go, his expression composed. But his eyes held a scimitar gleam.
“Was he telling the truth?” I said.
“Mostly. He was hiding something, though.”
“I imagine Landon’s always hiding something.”
“Hence the problem—he reads as lying even when he’s telling the truth. But there was no equivocation on the last part—he doesn’t want me at Phoenix. He thinks I’m psychotic.”
I put a hand on his arm. “This is what Landon does, you know. It’s not about you.”
“No, I understand that. He was just following orders.”
Marisa noticed us at this point. She shot me a hot glare, then covered it with a smile and a wave Trey’s way.
“I have to go,” he said. “Wait here.”
“Don’t you think we should be looking for Gabriella?”
“We’ve alerted Simpson and reviewed the access protocols. The next step is informing Marisa to be on the lookout, not looking for Gabriella.”
I suppressed the urge to scream at him and instead took a deep breath. This is what we did, followed the rules. I was grateful his timing was flexible if not his procedure.
“Fine. I’ll wait here.”
He nodded and then left. As he approached Marisa’s little coterie, she smiled broadly and introduced him. He was part of the show tonight, a neat professional package to impress the clientele. There came the moment, however, when he said something to her. Her mouth tightened, and she took him by the elbow as if to lead him away, but he wasn’t budging. He just stared at her hand until she pulled it away. Then he walked off without saying a word to anybody, not her, not Landon, not even me.
I got out my cell phone and punched in Garrity’s number. I got his voice mail. “Call me,” I said, “and soon. The Ice Man runneth over.”
***
For the next half hour, the Champagne flowed freely as the Beaumonts greeted the crowd. Charley wore a terra cotta sheath, while Mark sported an old-fashioned white tuxedo jacket, the kind that came with black tie and black pants. They were the center of an enchanted circle, hazy and light-dazzled, Trey ever-present in their wake.
I stayed at the bar, desperate for a cigarette, making do with faux martinis. As the crowd thickened, I scanned the new faces for Gabriella,