The Chilling Deception Read online

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  No Going Back

  A GUINEVERE JONES NOVEL

  The Chilling Deception

  Jayne Castle

  InterMix Books, New York

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  THE CHILLING DECEPTION

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Dell Books edition / August 1986

  InterMix eBook edition / July 2012

  Copyright © 1986 by Jayne Krentz, Inc.

  Excerpt from The Sinister Touch copyright © 1986 by Jayne Krentz, Inc.

  Bullet hole in glass © PRILL Mediendesign und Fotografie / Shutterstock

  Fireworks over Seattle skyline © neelsky

  Photo of couple © Shirley Green

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-56976-4

  INTERMIX

  InterMix Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Contents

  Cover

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Letter to the Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Special Excerpt

  About the Author

  Dear Reader:

  Welcome to the second book in the Guinevere Jones series, four novels of romantic-suspense featuring Guinevere Jones and her lover, private investigator Zachariah Justis. I wrote these books a while back and they have been out of print for some time. I am delighted that my publisher has made them available again. No psychic talents involved here – these books are pre-Arcane Society. But it’s obvious that I have been attracted to the name of Jones for some time!

  This series also demonstrates that I have been attracted to Pacific Northwest settings for a while as well. THE CHILLING DECEPTION is set in the San Juan Islands. Those of you who have read me for a while know that I have used the San Juans on several occasions, including COPPER BEACH, which I wrote under my Jayne Ann Krentz name. What can I say, I love islands!

  Chapter One

  Guinevere Jones discovered the gold-plated pistol in the men’s executive washroom on the third day of her employment at Vandyke Development Company.

  She went back to her desk in Edward Vandyke’s outer
office and sat brooding about her find for several minutes before she picked up the high-tech stainless steel phone and dialed the number of Free Enterprise Security, Inc. Zachariah Justis’s response to the information about the gold pistol was predictable—Guinevere told herself she ought to have anticipated it.

  “What the hell were you doing in the men’s executive washroom?” he exploded.

  “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

  Offended by Zac’s failure to perceive the significance of the gun in the bathroom, Guinevere replaced the receiver hard enough to make the listener wince on the other end of the line. The trouble with Justis was that he could be awfully one track; a slow-moving freight train that once started was generally unstoppable.

  Guinevere smiled fleetingly to herself as she fed paper into the electronic typewriter. She was looking forward to lunch, even if she would have to spend fifteen minutes of the precious hour trying to explain what she had been doing in the executive washroom.

  Half an hour later she arranged for calls to be transferred to another secretary’s office, pulled the paper bag containing her new Nike running shoes out of the bottom drawer of the desk, and picked up her purse. Vandyke had still not returned from his strategy session with his managers, but it was twelve thirty, and he had told her to be sure to take her lunch hour on time. A very thoughtful employer.

  Darting into the ladies’ room halfway down the hall, Guinevere slipped out of her elegant high-heeled gray pumps and quickly stepped into the Nikes. Instantly she felt capable of jogging from the Kingdome to the Space Needle. She breathed a pleased sigh of relief and satisfaction. True, the shoes didn’t particularly match the trim gray wool suit she was wearing, but that was of course the whole point.

  Guinevere serenely joined several other women wearing suits and expensive running shoes in the elevator and jauntily made her way to the Fifth Avenue entrance of the high-rise building. She spotted Zac’s solid compact form before he noticed her approaching. The tiny secret smile she often felt these days when she thought of Zac Justis curved the corners of her mouth. She was growing familiar with the irrepressible flare of pleasure and anticipation that came to life within her whenever she saw him, even though she couldn’t fully explain the sensation.

  The first time she had seen him she had thought him ugly. A frog, she had called him, and although she had kissed him more than once since that first eventful meeting, Zac Justis hadn’t yet turned into a prince.

  He wasn’t really ugly, but there was something fundamentally different about Zac, Guinevere reflected as she approached him. Standing in the lobby of the office building he seemed separate, removed from the polished males in suits and ties around him. He was wearing the uniform—a dark well-tailored jacket and trousers, crisp white shirt, and subdued striped tie—but he didn’t blend into the herd. Perhaps, given the rough unforgiving contours of his face and the remotely watchful quality of his ghost-gray eyes, he would never truly fit in anywhere. Even his dark hair was different. It was cut short, not styled and blown dry. He was a man apart.

  In that instant he saw Guinevere, and the remoteness in his eyes disappeared. It was replaced by a disconcertingly direct possessive expression that Guinevere found unsettling. She had been telling herself lately that she ought to discourage that look but she wasn’t at all sure how to go about doing it. Deep down she wasn’t certain she really wanted to destroy it, anyway. It did something to her when Zac regarded her in that way.

  He stood waiting for her, his eyes assessing her neatly coiled coffee-brown hair, wide hazel eyes, and slender figure. She watched his gaze take in the chicly padded shoulders of her jacket, the nipped-in waist that didn’t succeed in making her appear bustier than she actually was, and the gray skirt. She knew the very second he saw the new Nikes. Long dark lashes, the only softness in his hard face, lowered deliberately. Then he raised his eyes to meet her faintly smiling gaze.

  “Something morbid happen to your shoes?”

  “Wearing running shoes outside the office is very fashionable, Zac. It shows a concern for fitness, it’s practical for running up and down Seattle’s hills during one’s lunch hour, and it’s subtly, chicly amusing. Besides, they’ve been doing it in New York for a couple of years.”

  “That’s no excuse. Everybody knows New Yorkers are weird.” He shoved the revolving door and guided Guinevere through and out onto the sidewalk.

  “You can be very useful to have around,” she told him blithely as she buttoned her red coat against the perpetual Seattle mist. The mid-December chill was unrelieved by any sunlight.

  “You’re so good for my ego.” He took her arm as they started across the plaza toward the sidewalk. “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “I thought we could flip a coin to see who buys lunch.”

  “The last two times we did that you won. If we do it again, we use my coin.”

  “You’ve got a suspicious nature,” he complained.

  “Probably comes from hanging around people who conduct investigations for a living,” Guinevere agreed cheerfully. “My mother warned me about bad company. How’s business? Get that contract to do the security consulting work for that computer firm?”

  They had reached the restaurant and Zac held the door open for Guinevere. “I think it’s in the bag. Talked to one of the vice presidents this morning, and he wants me to start the project in January. Says his budget can accommodate my consulting fees after the first of the year.”

  Guinevere shot him a sidelong glance. “Can your budget accommodate the delay in income?”

  Zac shrugged one shoulder fatalistically. “It’ll have to.”

  “This isn’t a ploy to make me feel anxious about the state of your finances and thus induce me to pay for lunch, is it?”

  “Honey, you really have grown more suspicious lately. I’m worried about you.”

  Before Guinevere could respond the hostess came forward and showed them to a table for two. “We’ll go dutch today,” Guinevere announced as she picked up her menu.

  “You’re a hard-hearted woman.” Zac bent his dark head to study his menu. “Okay, tell me what in hell you were doing in the executive john.”

  Guinevere chuckled in spite of herself. “I’ve never seen one before.”

  “A john?”

  “An executive john. Big league, Zac. This is the first time my company has gotten a contract for a short-term secretary to fill in at such a high level. Usually temps are used at lower levels, to fill in for absent clerks. Executive secretaries generally have other executive secretaries in the same firm lined up to sub for them.”

  “Why did you take the job? Didn’t you have anyone you could send out on the assignment?”

  “This was the first time Vandyke Development has called Camelot Services for a temp, and I wanted to make a terrific impression. I didn’t have anyone I could send who had ever worked as an executive secretary, except my sister Carla. I decided to take the job myself and have Carla baby-sit Camelot Services. She seems to be enjoying running my office lately anyway.”

  Zac’s heavy brows were drawn together in a severe line. “So you raced out to take the job to see what life was like at the top?”

  “Zac, we may both be at the top ourselves someday. I, for one, am going to know what to expect.”

  “Which was why you checked out the executive head.” Zac nodded, satisfied with the interrogation. He put down his menu. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught.”

  Guinevere set down her own menu offhandedly. “Mr. Vandyke was tied up in a meeting with his managers. He’s been pushing to get a proposal ready and I knew he wouldn’t be back in the office until after lunch.” She halted as the waitress came by to take their orders. “I’ll have the black bean soup and the spicy noodle salad.”

  “Same for me,” Zac murmured. “And coffee—plain co
ffee. None of that fancy espresso stuff.” He waited with vast patience until the waitress had disappeared and began grilling Guinevere again. “Go on. Was it locked?”

  “The washroom? Yes. A big gold key on a chain. Mr. Vandyke keeps it beside the door. It’s more of a conversation piece than a real attempt to keep people out of the bathroom. His visitors find it amusing. The washroom entrance is a private one just down a small corridor from his office. In fact, you have to go through his office to get to it.” She leaned forward, aware of the amused enthusiasm in her own voice. “You should see it, Zac. All black and marble with gold running through it, and mauve.”

  “Mauve what?”

  “Mauve everything. Mauve toilet, mauve washbasin, mauve towels. It’s unbelievable. Marble everywhere—walls and floors and countertops. Which was why I happened to notice the gun.”

  “It contrasted with the marble?”

  “No, no, it wasn’t on anything marble. It was in the drawer by the sink.”

  Zac closed his eyes, clearly biting back another lecture. “Jesus, Gwen, you went through Vandyke’s bathroom drawers? I knew you were a little light-fingered at times, I found that out during the StarrTech affair, but I never thought—”

  “I am not light-fingered!” Incensed, Guinevere straightened in her chair, glaring at him. “Zac, this is important. If you can’t listen without interrupting, then I’ll—” She broke off abruptly.

  He appeared interested. “You’ll what?”

  “Never mind.” She decided to rise above his taunting. Mouth firm, she went on severely. “I noticed one of the drawers was partly open. I happened to glance inside and I could see something gold. So I just sort of eased the drawer out a bit more, and there it was.”

  “The gun?”

  “Yes. And I don’t mind telling you, Zac, it gave me a start.”

  “Maybe it will teach you to stay out of other people’s private johns.”

  The black bean soup arrived complete with a dollop of sour cream in the center, and Guinevere discovered she was too hungry to continue the argument. She spooned up the thick soup with gusto. “Can you imagine, Zac? A gold gun?”

  “Probably chosen by the same designer who did the head. Undoubtedly couldn’t find one in mauve.”