SECRETS AND SPIES

Chapter Three

Instead of relocating to one of the pristine and soulless glass monoliths that have sprung up across the city, Jenks and Sons has remained in its original habitat since its inception in the early 1920s. The classic terracotta building was one of only a few to survive relatively intact after the earthquake in 1906, and every inch of the building looks and smells ancient. A heady mix of ingrained tobacco and lavender polish greets you as you walk through the silent, high-ceilinged entrance hall. Once inside, if your imagination takes you there, you're transported back to a black and white world where dubious characters, played by the likes of Spencer Tracy and James Cagney, ran the burgeoning city.

At 4 pm precisely, Jenks opens his door and beckons me to come in. The slightly-stooped, round-faced man holding out his hand in greeting, matches the over-polished mahogany, silk drapes and Persian rugs that furnish his office. If you were shown a photograph of Jenks at his desk without knowing when it was taken, it would be impossible to guess which decade of the twentieth century you were looking at. Time doesn't move forward in the world of Jerimiah Jenks.

'Jenks' has been part of my life since the day I was born, and even though he's only slightly older than Dad, to me he was already an old man when I was growing up as he wore pin-striped suits with a Fedora even on the warmest days. He'd been one of only a few guests at my parent's wedding and is my only godparent still alive. Of all dad's friends and acquaintances, I know Jenks will be grieving the loss of Carlisle Cullen most keenly as dad had been his oldest friend.

"How are you?" Jenks asks earnestly as he examines my face, no doubt attempting to pick up clues as to my state of mind. We'd spoken briefly at dad's funeral, only I wasn't in the mood to be sociable. I do remember Jenks suggesting a good night's sleep and a holiday would do me good. By the look of his concerned expression, I guess he's presuming I haven't had the former yet.

"Okay," I reply automatically and then shake my head as my answer is a lie. "No, I'm not okay, Jenks. I'm the opposite of okay."

Jenks points to a well-used leather chair and waits for me to sit before returning to his desk. As he eases his body into his own chair he begins the standard condolence speech he probably reels off parrot-fashion to bereaved clients.

"That's only to be expected …" he starts before I interrupt him.

"Dad's house was turned over while we were at the funeral, Jenks. I've had forensics crawling all over it this morning taking prints."

I note Jenks' shocked expression which reassures me this is news to him.

"What was taken?" he asks.

"Only the contents of dad's study. Being honest though, I wouldn't know if anything else of value has gone as I haven't lived there for over ten years. I'll go through dad's things tomorrow and see if anything springs to mind."

"So they were industrial spies then, not common thieves?"

"I guess so. That's what the police have suggested. The detective who handled dad's case came to the house today. He was dismissive and still sticking to the suicide theory, so I've threatened to go to the media if he doesn't take dad's death seriously. I'll never accept dad committed suicide, Jenks. He was murdered, and more than likely because of something to do with his work."

I notice Jenks doesn't react to that statement which probably means he's come to the same conclusion, which isn't surprising.

"Have you any evidence of that, Edward? Did Carlisle discuss his work with you?"

I'm instantly on guard again, even though two days ago I would've trusted Jenks more than anyone in dad's circle of friends. I recall what I'd seen on the computer screen and dad's FYEO message, so I lie through my teeth as I'd been instructed to do.

"I've no idea what he was working on. Computer Technology is way over my head so dad knew there was no point discussing what he was doing with me."

Jenks smiles and nods and mutters something about only just mastering some features on his I-phone after two years of trying, so he sympathizes with anyone who isn't tech-savvy.

"Let's get down to business then, Edward," he says with a forced smile. "We can talk about the break-in and your future later. I've made a copy of Carlisle's Will for you to read when you're on your own. The bottom line is you own everything. The house, the money in his bank accounts, and his investments which regrettably aren't many, your mother's jewelry which is safe in our bank in the city, and of course the cabin in Colorado. Everything will be transferred into your name as soon as I can arrange it. Also whatever's left of the Mustang is yours."

Jenks stops talking, no doubt waiting for my reaction. I remain silent and still; just staring, unblinking, at the envelope containing the Will on his desk. Jenks continues.

"Carlisle was property rich, Edward, but he wasn't super-rich in income or other assets, even though he could've been as wealthy as Bill or Steve if he'd wanted to be."

I can't help smiling ruefully at that statement. Dad was considered by many in Silicon Valley to be the American equivalent of Tim Berners-Lee, the British Tech genius who invented the World Wide Web but gave away the idea for free. The saintly Tim could have been a zillionaire if he'd patented the Web for his own profit. Instead, he gifted it to humanity in the hope it would be positively used to educate the world.

I'd been aware from an early age that both my parents had been at the forefront of computer and microchip technology in the early days of the industry. Instead of hanging on to their patents and raking in the income, they would sell them to whichever Tech company convinced them they'd be used to advance technology, and not to make enormous profits at the expense of the consumer.

In anyone else's eyes, Carlisle and Esme Cullen had been naïve and stupid. Dad's favorite explanation for their altruistic behavior had been, 'you can't eat money', or 'we don't need money or status to be happy', or so he'd explained to me when I'd complained why my mom and dad weren't becoming as rich and famous as Bill Gates or Steve Jobs. Looking back, they had their priorities right and I'm so very proud of them.

Jenks is waiting for me to comment on my inheritance. There's silence in the room as I digest the fact that, as expected, dad has left everything to me. The value of the house on the hill on its own makes me a double millionaire, only I seriously doubt whether I'll ever bring myself to the point of being able to sell it, which means I've actually become a house-owner; well a two-house owner if you count the cabin.

"What are your first thoughts," Jenks asks after a respectful period of silence has elapsed.

"Get a state-of-the-art security system for the house," I sigh. "Other than that, I don't know. I'm happy living in Colorado so I'm not even considering moving back here. I'm not ready to sell the house and I doubt whether I ever will. It'll have to remain empty until I make up my mind what to do with it."

"You could rent it," Jenks responds. "A large house in a prime position could give you a good income, and would give you some breathing space."

I nod my head in agreement. I'd already considered this option even though I know I'd have a big problem with someone else living in my family home because I wouldn't be able to walk back in when I felt like it.

"I'll think about it, Jenks. I make enough money to survive through my landscaping business so I'm not desperate for cash. I don't want to expand The Yard either as this would mean hiring more staff. I've got a great team at the moment and have as much work as I can cope with and that's how I'd like it to stay. I'm like my dad I suppose; money and possessions are not what I lie awake wishing for."

"What do you wish for?" Jenks asks.

"Right now? My only wish is to find out what happened to Dad, but I'm up against the 'don't-give-a-damn' attitude of San Francisco's finest. Eight days ago … well, I'll keep that private."

Jenks quietly chuckles. He presuming I'm single I suppose as I didn't bring a girlfriend or significant other to the funeral. I also suspect he's wondering why an 'apparently' good looking guy like me is single, as he'll remember from my teenage years I was never lacking in admirers. I'd inherited my auburn hair and cheekbones from mom, but my eyes and slim physique are definitely Carlisle's.

"Would you like to see Ruth, my financial partner now, or leave it for another day?" Jenks asks.

"Another day would be good. If you could ask her to email me the value of dad's investments and the balance in his accounts that would be helpful, plus any property tax and other liabilities I've inherited. Also, could you get someone here to handle the insurance claims for the break-in and the Mustang. I don't think I can cope with dealing with either. Other than that, I'm not in the right place to be making important decisions at the moment. Maybe in a month's time I'll be in a better frame of mind?"

Jenks nods his head and rises from his chair.

"I'll make sure the figures are with you in the next few days, and I'll be in touch about the claims. I'll get Adam on those today."

As I stand to leave he walks around the desk and puts his hand on my arm in a friendly gesture.

"Edward, Carlisle was my dearest friend and I don't mind telling you there are very few people I loved and admired as much as him. I loved and admired Esme equally when she was alive. So if there's anything I can do to help you get through this, and I don't mean just the financial and legal challenges of suddenly losing a parent, don't hesitate to ask. You can trust me, Edward."

"Thanks," I mumble. "I'm grateful dad had you as a friend."

I'm heading for the door but stop and turn around as a thought has occurred to me.

"When was the last time you spoke to dad, Jenks?"

"About three days before he passed. Why?"

"Did he call you?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what he said?"

Jenks leans against his desk as he recalls the conversation. His forehead is displaying even more lines than usual, and when he responds it's plain to me he's choosing his words carefully.

"He wanted to see me in person to talk something over, but not in a professional capacity he said. He also said, and these I think were his exact words, 'I was the only person other than you he could trust'. I asked him to elaborate but he said he couldn't over the phone which I thought was strange. I suggested meeting up the following week so we agreed I'd call him back and arrange a date and time. Unfortunately, events caught up with him and it never happened."

"How did he sound?" I ask.

"No different than usual. I didn't get the feeling that what he wanted to discuss with me was urgent. When I suggested the following week he didn't say he wanted to see me sooner."

I continue walking towards the door and get hold of the handle. "I suppose we'll never know what was on his mind, but thanks for being such a good friend to him over the years."

"You're welcome, Edward, and as I said, if you ever need anything, let me know."

I make my way down the dimly lit lavender-polished stairs and out through the ornate wooden doors into painfully bright sunshine. Now back in the twenty-first century, I stop on the busy sidewalk to light a cigarette, cover my eyes with my RayBans, and reflect on what has just transpired. After a few long drags, I toss the half-smoked stub into the gutter.

"Fuck!" I hiss under my breath as I can feel frustration and anger building up inside me again. While I was staring at the envelope containing dad's Will, it had come to me, almost like a revelation, that I have no-one to talk to about my mission to find out what happened to dad, or about what I'd witnessed and learned from the computer in the basement. I'm even limited as to what I can tell the police, which is doubly frustrating as dad's letter would be proof to that idiot, Yorkie, that dad has definitely been murdered.

I'd been so tempted to confide in Jenks just now, only dad's clear warning has compelled me to not trust anyone. Visualizing dad's letter again, this sentence stands out like a beacon.

Be wary of any new people who've either just come into your life or appear in the next few months. DO NOT TRUST ANYONE – EVEN JENKS. Remember, money corrupts. Be suspicious of everyone around you. They may think you know something about my work and could be befriending you for this reason.

Surely dad didn't mean the guys who work for me in Colorado? He'd mentioned Jenks, and Sue, but including them in his circle of distrust is madness.

Setting off down the hill with a sick feeling in my stomach I think about the six people I employ. Apart from my newest appointment, I consider all of them to be my closest friends.

I'd known Jake since we were both twelve. I was a wealthy kid from a posh school holidaying in our personal cabin. He was a feral kid who hung around the social club making mischief with his friends. When I started up The Yard as a landscape design business, Jake was the first person I employed. He'd worked for me for over nine years now without any major issues and I trust him implicitly, even though he's a dick sometimes.

Rosalie joined The Yard two years later as an administrator. A stunningly beautiful girl with golden hair and a statuesque figure, she could've been a model. Instead, she attended business school in Denver because one day in the future she'll take over the running of her parent's gigantic ranch. After graduating, she decided she wasn't ready to return to rural life. Moving to a big city and working for a large company didn't appeal either, so the suburb of Denver where my business is located had been the ideal solution for her. Within a month she had knocked The Yard into shape and proved herself indispensable to me.

Jasper joined the ranks two years after Rosalie when business really took off. A quiet soul with blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and a gangly physique, he's highly intelligent and definitely tech-savvy. He trained as a Quantity Surveyor which is the reason I hired him. As well as being skilled with computer programs like Excel and the design packages we use, he'd set up his own mini-laboratory at The Yard so he could analyze soil samples. He's a great negotiator as well, and I'm positive he can read minds. He has an uncanny knack of knowing when a customer or supplier reaches his or her financial cut-off point. If he locks his bright blue eyes on me, even I have the feeling I'm being interrogated.

I'd hired Emmett several times as a day-rate laborer before offering him a permanent job at The Yard. I wanted him as part of my team because whenever I watched him working, he always had a permanent smile on his face, even when the weather conditions were atrocious. A huge bear of a man, his skills are with the practical aspects of the company. Alongside Jake, the two of them take charge of the heavy building and landscaping projects once they've started, working hands-on themselves or supervising sub-contractors for larger constructions. Emmett doesn't go anywhere near the computers or paperwork, which is fine by me as his enormous hands are always filthy during working hours.

Alice joined the team not long after Emmett. Rosalie talked me into recruiting her after meeting her in a bar. We were just about to move into the premises where we are now and Rosalie needed more help so it was a no-brainer. Alice is also a business school graduate and the two of them run the admin side of the business brilliantly between them. They're in charge of advertising and marketing, legal contracts, safety procedures plus accounts and administration. They also help out with planting and driving the company trucks if extra hands are needed. Alice is a classic Goth, with the obligatory black hair, make-up and clothing, whereas Rosalie is ultra-feminine and immaculate. Even though they're chalk and cheese in every aspect of their lives, they've become the greatest of friends and I'm so lucky to have them running my business.

My only new member of staff is Bella. She wandered into The Yard five weeks ago without an appointment looking for design work. Bella's arrival was timely as Laura's unexpected resignation a week earlier had completely dropped me in the shit.

Laura had been the sixth member of the team for just over a year. I took her on to take over some of the designing work for me as I was swamped. When she walked away from her job with only two days' notice, she hadn't only walked away from The Yard; she'd also left a vacancy in my bed. The cold bed I could cope with; the volume of work I was left to deal with on my own, definitely not. I'd been on the point of advertising for a replacement designer when Bella strolls in, tosses her hand-written resume on my desk, sits down without an invitation and offers me a cigarette, before lighting one herself. I'll admit I was instantly intrigued. A week later she started work.

"Shit!" I exclaim out loud as I cross the road heading for the waterfront. Bella might as well have a neon sign flashing 'Spy' above her head as she definitely falls into the category of someone who's recently come into my life. Her qualifications and experience, which I'd verified admittedly briefly as I was desperate for help, confirmed she's a bona fide landscape designer and she came with exemplary references. Her reasons for re-locating to Colorado from Oregon were valid so the chances of her being an industrial spy are virtually zero. Even so, there's no way I can trust her after dad's warning, and this guts me.

Bella had an effect on me from the minute she appeared at my office door, which took me by surprise. She's nothing like Laura or any of my previous girlfriends, who were mostly tall, fair-haired and feminine. Bella is short by comparison, brunette, and her clothes are distinctly unfeminine. She wears little or no make-up, but there was something about her that instantly turned me on when I first saw her, even though I'd promised myself a long break from the relationship thing.

Jake was on the prowl immediately and hadn't wasted any time asking Bella for a date. He grumpily admitted to me she'd turned him down flat; her excuse being she didn't date co-workers as it could turn messy. Jake has been sulking ever since but my guess is he'll persist until, in his words, "he breaks down her defenses." Jake is a belligerent fucker, (I often tell him that), and doesn't like losing at anything, especially cards. I'd immediately recognized Bella's feistiness, and if she isn't interested in Jake he won't have a hope in hell.

My dick is twitching as I visualize her sitting at her desk in the office, playing with her long curly hair and biting her fingernails. I'll admit I'd been fantasizing about her on an hourly basis before the phone call from the SFPD and had been planning an attempt to hook up with her at some time in the future. That is definitely not going to happen now. Having any sort of relationship is not a priority at the moment whether she's an industrial spy or not.

Putting her out of my mind, I unhurriedly amble towards the tourist areas as it's easier to pick up a cab near to the waterfront. San Francisco is basking in a warm, sultry evening. The city is buzzing and the ultra-modern skyline looks spectacular from where I'm observing it. Out to sea, the evening fog is waiting for the opportunity to creep ashore and lonely Alcatraz has already been swallowed up by the murk.

Growing up in a beautiful and exciting environment I'll admit had been an enjoyable experience, even though from quite an early age I knew urban life wasn't for me. When I finished college I couldn't wait to escape the city. The silence and emptiness Colorado was offering me was too tempting to resist, and mom and dad's cabin was the place where I knew I'd be happiest. I've never had any regrets leaving aged twenty-one, but then I wasn't to know my dad would be taken from me so soon.

Fisherman's Wharf is heaving and the smell of cooked food emanating from the restaurants and bars is assaulting my senses. As I walk by each one, I'm painfully aware of my self-inflicted hunger and debate whether to grab a takeaway burger from one of the restaurants before going home. As I'm making up my mind, I hear my name being called from behind. Spinning around I spot my old school friend, Mike, in the distance.

Seeing Mike jogging towards me brings back memories of our youth and I feel incredibly young again. Mike's hardly changed since we used to hang around here after college, when picking up girls was our favorite way of passing the time. He's still wearing the same style of clothes as he did back then and with the same boyish hairstyle. Maybe he's gotten a bit thicker around the waist since I last saw him. Other than that, I could pretend we were twenty-one again.

"Ed," he pants when he comes to a stop. "I spotted you crossing the street. I've only just heard about your dad. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," I respond automatically.

"We've just flown in from Hawaii. I'd cut myself off from the internet for ten days – Jessica's orders. Utter hell. We were catching up on emails at the airport and read what happened."

"You said 'we'. Where's Jessica?"

"I jumped out the car when I saw you. She's driving the kids home. She sends her love of course. Are you doing anything now? Could you use a drink?"

I hesitate. I could use a drink but again alarm bells are ringing. I'll have to stay totally sober in Mike's presence and not be tempted to pour my heart out, even though I've known Mike since we were ten. Mike works for Microsoft, so the opportunity for industrial espionage is already rearing its ugly head.

"One drink," I respond cheerily as I don't want to appear rude, especially if Mike is genuine. "I'm looking for somewhere to eat so the nearest burger bar would be good," I add.

"I know the perfect place," Mike responds with an enthusiastic smile.

Mike puts his hand on my shoulder, gripping it in a friendly 'I got you buddy' gesture, before taking hold of my elbow and steering me towards The Wipeout Bar on Pier 39. The restaurant is packed, but we get a table quickly and both order burgers with fries and light beers.

"You look like shit, Ed," Mike comments dryly as he places his bottle down with a sigh after drinking half of it in one hit. "Is there anything Jess and I can do to help?"

I shake my head. "Not really, Mike. I haven't slept much over the last week but I'm sort of under control now. I'll be heading back to Colorado in a couple of days and I'm counting on mountain air helping me get my head around what's happened."

"So do you know what happened? Shit! Sorry … if you don't want to talk about it I'll understand."

"That's okay. You probably know as much as I do to be honest. In other words, zilch! One minute dad's happy and breathing. Next minute he's gone. The police have nothing to go on and neither have I. It's a mystery."

"But do you suspect foul play?"

"Of course I do, but who the heck would want to kill my dad? He didn't have any enemies. I haven't a clue what he was working on as all his computers and papers were stolen while we were at the funeral."

I note Mike's intake of breath when I mention the burglary. I continue.

"So if industrial spies killed him and raided the house, I've no idea whether they got what they were looking for."

"Jesus!" Mike exclaims. "What are you going to do?"

"I've threatened to go to the media if they don't give his death some attention. I'm not holding out much hope because I've no idea what he was working on, or who, if anyone, he was working for. I'm staring at a brick wall."

"Shit!" Mike exclaims again, downs the rest of his bottle and holds it up in the air until a waiter spots him.

"Look, Ed, do you want me to ask around at Microsoft? I know a few guys in the development section. They may know what your dad was working on and if they do, this might give you some clues."

"That's good of you, Mike. I'd rather you not say anything yet; I'm leaving it with the cops for the moment. My head's not in the right place to be playing Sherlock Holmes either which means I'm counting on someone coming forward who might be able to shed some light on this."

"Okay," Mike says earnestly. "I won't go searching, but if I hear anything I'll let you know. Your dad helped start my career off at Microsoft and for that, I'll be eternally grateful. I know I would've been in the pile of rejects if it wasn't for him. If there's any way I can repay him through you, you must let me know."

"I will, Mike, and thanks. Anyway, how are Jess and the kids? I haven't seen them since Ruby's baptism."

"Ruby's three now, Rachel is five going on fifteen and we've got another one on the way. I know I shouldn't say this, but I hope it's a boy. I'm drowning in pink at home."

"Not a gender-neutral house then?"

"Nope! And whoever created Peppa Pig should be put against a wall and shot."

As I'm laughing imagining Mike pinning the annoying Peppa up against a wall, I realize this is the first time I've really laughed since getting the phone call. Progress, I suppose.

Our burgers arrive and the conversation sticks to the usual lines of reminiscing about our school, past girlfriends, sporting achievements and lack of them, and then Mike asks me about Colorado.

"I'm happy there, Mike. The Yard is a good business and I've got a nice life so I've no plans to move or change anything."

"Girlfriend?"

"Not at present. I've just split from a long-termer; her decision, not mine, so I'm a free agent again."

"Lucky guy."

"You're happy with Jess, aren't you?"

"Of course, but sometimes I regret settling down so young. Married at twenty-four. First kid at twenty-seven. Three kids before I'm thirty-three. You're still sowing your wild oats."

"True, but I'm searching for what you've got, and what mom and dad had for a while. I'll probably never find the right girl because I've set the bar too high. I'm resigned to that though. Enjoy Jess while you have her, Mike. You never know what's around the corner."

Mike smiles at my comment compassionately. He'll remember the dark times when mom was dying and after she passed away. As young teenagers mom seemed old to both of us when she died, but she was only in her early forties, so not much older than we are now.

I down the last drops of beer and wipe my mouth on the napkin.

"I've got to go, Mike. Thanks for your company; I've enjoyed it. I've properly smiled for the first time in over a week and I didn't think that would happen for a while." I signal the waiter for the check, but Mike stops me.

"I'll get this, Ed. I'm the lucky owner of an expense account. Anyway, I'm having another beer. You've given me an excuse to stay out until the kids are in bed."

"Chicken!" I joke.

"Yup!"

I lean over the table to shake Mike's hand and pick up the envelope with dad's Will inside. Leaving the restaurant I'm still smiling. Meeting Mike has lightened my mood for the first time in a week although I know this is only temporary and darkness will soon descend on me again. I'll deal with that when it happens.

There are plenty of cabs waiting by the entrance to the Pier, and as I slump onto the back seat of one of them I pull my cell out and bring up a saved website. Before the driver has pulled up in front of the house I've booked my flight home to Colorado.

"Two days more of this and then escape," I sigh as I open the door to the house I now own, wander along the hallway and out through the kitchen door onto the wooden deck. I drop into the Adirondack and light a cigarette, and as my first stress-reducing drag since leaving Jenks' office is absorbed into my overloaded brain cells, I realize that Detective Yorkie hasn't got back to me about the Mustang.

"Bastard," I curse out loud. "I'll sue your fucking ass."

Who can blame him? Edward is feeling frustrated and very alone. He'll have to confide in someone soon or he'll go crazy.

Next chapter he's off home to Colorado and Mitzi (who is Mitzi). Will his problems follow him there? (Of course they will - wouldn't be much of a story if they didn't).

I'm loving all the guesses where this is going, and especially what the password is. I've already had Monster, Mustang, and a couple of other guesses - all wrong, and it's so OBVIOUS! Come on readers - you can do better than that.

Many thanks to the wonderful Lemonade Stand for highlighting this story - mwah mwah xx

Joan x