The Nicholas Linnear Novels by Eric Van Lustbader

is?”
    “It doesn’t, really. I’m more interested in why you chose to change your name.”
    “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
    He got up, went over to look at what she had been working on. “Nice,” he said. “I like it.” He went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator. “That man was murdered,” he told her over his shoulder. “By an expert assassin. But nobody knows why.” He took out a bottle of Perrier, opened it and emptied it into a glass. He took a drink. “Vincent was called in and he in turn asked for my help, because the murderer is in all likelihood a Japanese; a man who kills for money.” He turned around, went back into the living room where she still stood where he had left her. She stared at him, her eyes very bright. “Not a hit man—someone you read about in the papers when there’s some gangland killing in New Jersey or Brooklyn. No, this is the kind of man you never hear about. He’s far too clever to give himself any notoriety except among an elite core of potential clients. But I really don’t know too much about that end of it.” He looked up at her as he settled himself on the sofa once more. “Are you getting all this?”
    There was silence for a time, just the sound of the surf seeming far away. She moved, at last, over to the stereo, putting on a record. But almost immediately she took the needle off the groove as if the music were some intruder now to be kept away.
    “He called me home during my sophomore year at Smith,” she said with her back to him. Her voice was flat and dry and contained. “Sent his goddamn private jet for me so I was sure not to miss any of my classes.” She turned around but her head was down, her gaze riveted on a paper clip she held, working it back and forth until it snapped apart. “Well, I was, I don’t know, I guess ‘frightened’ is the word. I couldn’t imagine what emergency he’d called me back home for. I immediately thought of my mother. Funny, not Gelda; she never got sick. Not like Mother.
    “Anyway, I was brought into the study and there he was standing before the fire, toasting his hands. I stood watching him with my loden coat brushed with snow, not even bothering to take it off He offered me a drink.” Her head snapped up and she impaled him with her eyes. “Can you imagine! He offered me a drink as calmly as if we were business partners about to discuss an important deal.
    “It’s odd, you know. That’s precisely the image I had at the time. It was prophetic. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I’ve a surprise for you. I’ve come across a most extraordinary man. He’ll be here any moment. I imagine the snow’s delayed him a bit. Come. Take off your coat and sit down.’ But I stayed where I was, dumbfounded. ‘Is this why you flew me home?’ I asked. ‘Well, yes. I want you to meet him. He’s ideal for you. His family’s in the right bracket and quite well connected. He’s good-looking and a three-letter man to boot.’ ‘Father,’ I said, ‘you scared me half to death over some mad idea that—’ ‘I scared you?’ ‘Yes, I thought something had happened, to Mother or—’ ‘Don’t be so idiotic, Justine! I can’t think what I’m going to do with you.’ I stormed out, furious, and he just couldn’t understand what he had done to upset me. It was all done out of love, he told me. ‘Do you know how much time I spent making this selection?’ he said as I went out the door.” She sighed. “For my father, time was always his most precious commodity.”
    “People don’t do that anymore,” he said. “Trade off other people as if they were things.”
    “Oh no?” She laughed sardonically. “It happens all the time, all around.” She spread out her arms. “In marriages, when the woman’s expected to perform certain duties; in divorces, when the kids are used as bargaining points; in affairs. All the time, Nick. Grow up, will you?”
    He got up off the sofa, annoyed at her height