"Don't tell me you agree with Arizona's conspiracy theory? You really think Valentine should look for the culprit up at the institute?" Nick spread his hands. "Give me a break. That's nuts and you know it."

"I doubt very much that the painting was stolen by someone at the institute," she said coolly. "But that still leaves a lot of rocks to turn over and I don't think Sean will do that. I've got a hunch he'll concentrate on the Heralds."

Nick was silent.

"I knew it," she muttered. "He does think it was someone from the Incandescent Body, doesn't he?"

"He intends to do some background checks on some of them," Nick admitted. "It's a logical place to start. The Heralds constitute the largest group of newcomers and unknowns in town who would have had knowledge of the painting and where it was stored."

"That's not true. There are more newcomers and unknowns up at the institute and Chamberlain College."

"Okay, maybe. Technically speaking. But it's unlikely that many of them would have heard about the painting so soon. With a few exceptions, they're considered outsiders here in Eclipse Bay. Not full-fledged members of the community. Most of them are not hardwired into the gossip circuit. The Heralds, on the other hand, knew everything about the Upsall almost immediately because Photon and A.Z. told them."

"Others could have known, too," she insisted. "You know how word spreads in this town."

"Come to think of it, you're right," he replied curtly. "There are a lot of suspects, aren't there?"

She did not like the way he said that. "Not a lot. Some."

"Jeremy Seaton, for instance. Heck, you showed him right where the painting was stashed. You even let him take a really close look at it. And he's into art. Probably knows some underhanded dealers back in Portland or Seattle who would be willing to take a stolen Upsall off his hands, no questions asked."

Shock reverberated through her. It took a moment to recover. Then she flattened her palms on the counter very close to his own big hands and leaned forward so that they were only inches apart.

"Don't you dare imply that Jeremy took the painting," she said softly. "That is beneath contempt."

"You want a private investigator on the case? You gotta expect some uncomfortable speculation."

"You brought up Jeremy's name only because you don't like him very much," she said through her teeth.

"Just trying to be logical. That's what we investigators are paid to do."

"You know something? When A.Z. came up with the idea to hire you, it struck Virgil and me that there was some merit to the plan. After all, who would know Eclipse Bay better than a Harte? And with your family history and clout here in town, you can talk to anyone. Get through any door. People will take you seriously and open up to you."

He took his hands off the counter. "Because I'm considered one of the locals?"

"Yes. You've got access in a way that Sean Valentine does not." She moved one hand slightly. "And that's why I went along with A.Z.'s scheme. But now I'm having second thoughts."

"Good."

"I agree with you," she went on smoothly. "I think that with your poor attitude, it is highly unlikely that you will be of any use to us."

"Yes, he will," Carson said very earnestly from the doorway. "I'll help him."

"That's very nice of you, Carson, but your father is not interested in working for me, so I'll just have to investigate without him."

"Do you know how to be an investigator?" Carson asked, intrigued.

"I've read all your father's books about John True. How hard can it be?"

Nick's eyes went very narrow. "What's this about investigating on your own?"

She raised one shoulder in a deliberately careless shrug. "I don't see that I have much option."

His mouth thinned. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"This is a really, really dumb idea, Octavia. Stay out of it. Let Sean Valentine do his job."

She watched him just as steadily as he watched her. Damned if she would let him intimidate her, she thought. She was Claudia Banner's great-niece. She could handle a Harte.

"That Upsall was in my custody," she said. "I feel responsible for the loss and I intend to do whatever I can to recover it."

"You're trying to force my hand and I don't like it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You can't do this without me and you know it, so you're doing your best to manipulate me into a position where I have no choice but to play private eye for you."

"I wouldn't dream of trying to manipulate you," she said austerely. "I'm sure it would be impossible."

He folded his arms across his chest. He did not try to conceal his irritation.

"Okay," he said at last. "You win. I'll ask your questions for you."

"Thanks, but I really don't want you to do me any favors."

"I'm not doing you a favor," he said. "I'm doing it for A.Z. and Virgil." He glanced at Carson. "Come on, son, let's go. We've got things to do."

"Are we going to be private eyes?" Carson asked eagerly.

"Yep. You can be my assistant, at least until you get bored with the job, which probably won't take long."

"I won't get bored."

"Sure you will," Nick said. "Heck, I already know that I'm going to get bored."

"Look, if you don't think that you can keep your attention focused on this problem-" Octavia began.

"I'm a Harte, I can focus. Even when I'm bored." Nick turned on his heel and headed for the door. "Let's go, kid. We'll start at Rumor Central."

"Where's that?" Octavia called after him.

Nick glanced back over his shoulder. "The post office, naturally."

"I heard the Upsall disappeared sometime late yesterday or last night." Jeremy lounged back in his desk chair, cocked one tasseled loafer-shod foot on his knee, and tapped the tip of a pen against the armrest. "True?"

"I'm afraid so," Octavia said.

She sank down into the only other chair in the small office and admired the view through the window. The town, with its marina and pier, was spread out before her in a picture-perfect landscape that would have looked good hanging in her gallery.

The tide was out again. Eclipse Arch, the massive stone monolith that dominated the long sweep of beach framed by the arc of Bayview Drive, was fully exposed. Sunlight sparkled on the water. The air had been scrubbed so clean by last night's storm that she could make out Hidden Cove and Sundown Point, the two rocky outcroppings that marked the southern and northern boundaries of the bay. She could even see the elegant old mansion that Rafe and Hannah had transformed into Dreamscape.

She had gotten into the habit of taking a sandwich in to work with her, but she had neglected to bring one today. Feeling badly in need of a short break, she did something she almost never did: she closed up for the noon hour. She drove up the hillside above town with some vague notion of getting a salad at Snow's Cafe. Instead she'd steered straight on past to the institute. Luckily Jeremy had been in his office and had invited her to eat with him in the cafeteria. Now they were back, drinking coffee together.

"I assume our noble chief of police is on the case?" Jeremy said.

"Yes. Sean is looking into matters." She decided not to mention that Nick was also investigating.

She was almost certain that Nick hadn't been serious when he had named Jeremy as a likely suspect, but there was so much bad blood between the two men that she did not want to risk pouring gasoline on the fire.

"Got any theories?" Jeremy asked.

"No." She frowned. "I think Sean feels it might be one of the Heralds."

"A real possibility. No one knows much about that crowd down at the bakery. My grandmother still thinks they're some kind of cult. Not that the theory keeps her from buying her favorite lemon squares there, of course."

"When it comes to good lemon squares, you have to do what you have to do."

"Speaking of doing what you have to do, I think I've worked my nerve up at last. Can I persuade you to come up and view my etchings some evening this week?"

"Any time."

"Are you free this evening?"

She thought about how she had hoped that she would not be free tonight. But things had changed.

"As it happens, I am, indeed, entirely free this evening," she said.

Late that afternoon Nick balanced, feet slightly apart, on the gently bobbing dock and looked down at the short, wiry man standing in the back of a boat. Young Boone was dressed in a pair of stained and faded coveralls that appeared to be at least thirty years old. He wore a blue peaked cap emblazoned with the logo of a marine supply firm.

Even on his best days, Young Boone was not what anyone would call chatty. He had inherited the marina decades earlier from his father, Old Boone. Young Boone was somewhere in his seventies and his father had died twenty years ago, but he would probably go to his grave known as Young Boone. If either of the Boones had had first names, they had long since been forgotten in the misty past of Eclipse Bay history.

For two generations the Boones, Old and Young, had made their home in the seriously weathered two-story structure at the edge of the marina. The lower floor housed a bait, tackle, and boating supply shop. The upstairs served as the Boones' living quarters.

"Heard you had a little damage down here last night." Nick surveyed the marina through his sunglasses.

"Some." Young Boone did not look up from the rope he was coiling in the back of the boat. "Nothin' that can't be fixed."