Looking Inside

“It’s an invitation,” Harper said, puzzled. She reread the handwritten message inside out loud. “‘Mr. Jacob Latimer requests the honor of your presence at a cocktail party tonight at his home. Please bring your invitation and present it to the security guard at the entry gate at 935 Lakeview Boulevard. Our apologies for the inconvenience in advance, but for security reasons, identification will be required and there will be a brief search of your car and person. No additional guests, please.’”

The note was signed by an Elizabeth Shields.

She glanced up when Ruth gave a low whistle.

“Well how do you rate?” Ruth wondered, giving Harper a sharp, incredulous once-over.

“What do you mean? Who’s Latimer?”

“Only the richest of all the rich bastards who congregate around this lake. You’ve never heard of Latimer? The software mogul? Came out of nowhere when he was still practically a kid, making his first millions in the Clint Jefferies insider trading pharmaceutical scandal? No one could ever pin anything on him, of course. Jefferies was actually the focus of the Securities and Exchange Commission’s investigation, which was eventually dropped for lack of evidence. They always go after the one with the money, not the small potatoes, like Latimer was at the time. If there was insider trading going on, both Latimer and Jefferies got away with it. By the time the scandal faded, Latimer was serving in army intelligence. He’s a brilliant programmer. The military snapped him up in a New York minute from MIT to create anti-hacker software. I hear they gave him huge bonuses every time he managed to get into the government’s high-security files, and then gave him even more money to utilize the knowledge for creating programs that kept criminals from doing the exact same thing he’d just done. He parlayed all he learned from serving in army intelligence—and all the money he made in the Jefferies pharmaceutical windfall—into—”

“Lattice,” Harper finished, realization hitting her. Lattice was a well-known software giant. Of course. That’s why she’d heard the name Jacob Latimer. Harper didn’t know much about big business or technology movers and shakers, but she’d heard of Lattice. Even though Latimer’s company had begun based on an antivirus security program for the military, it’d quickly moved on to public sector applications for human resources, and most recently to antivirus software for personal computers and devices.

“What does the owner of Lattice want with me?” Harper wondered.

Ruth just arched her plucked, dark blond eyebrows and dropped her gaze over Harper speculatively. “Maybe hair the color of copper and a girlish figure has more mileage than I’d thought these days. Latimer loves women. Rumor is, he has some unusual tastes in that arena.”

Harper opened her mouth to tell the older woman that was ridiculous. And Harper’s looks weren’t unusual, thank you very much. She’d been referred to as the girl next door more than once in her life, much to her irritation.

“I don’t see how he’d know anything about my existence, let alone my hair color. Seriously, what do you think this is about?”

Ruth held out her hand. Harper gave her the invitation. Ruth examined the contents, frowning slightly.

“It’s genuine. I recognize Elizabeth’s handwriting. She’s his primary personal assistant. I think he has several, but she’s his main one for the Tahoe compound. You have no idea why you’re getting this? You don’t know Latimer or any of his staff? His acquaintances? Never met him while you were in San Francisco?”

“No. I didn’t even recognize his name at first.”

“Well,” Ruth said, giving the card back with a flick of her thin wrist, “that’s an invite that almost everyone in the country would kill for, including me. Latimer keeps to himself in that lakeside compound of his. He’s paranoid. Some people say it’s because he’

s got plenty to hide. Lots of rumors have flown around about him over the years. Is he still involved with the U.S. military? Does he pull strings to move players on the chessboard of international relations? Is he a spy? He’s definitely a big philanthropist—probably to gloss over the gaping holes in his respectability as far as his rise to power. Who knows, really? That’s the question when it comes to Latimer, and I suspect the answer is: only Latimer himself. And possibly Clint Jefferies.”

“Who’s Clint Jefferies?”

“The pharmaceutical and real estate tycoon? Owns Markham Pharmaceuticals? Worth billions. Nice looking, but a bit of a douche if you ask me,” Ruth replied with a sniff.

Harper definitely recognized the company name Markham. It was one of the top six pharmaceutical companies worldwide. “Right,” Harper mused. “So how are Jefferies and Latimer related again?”

“Nowadays, they aren’t, because that’s the way Latimer wants it. Jefferies was his mentor a long time ago. But Latimer has held him at arm’s length ever since the Markham insider trading scandal. That whole affair has been shrouded in mystery for years, just like Latimer himself. He’s a reporter’s dream and nightmare at once. Someone has done a good job of brushing the trail of his history clean,” Ruth said with a pointed glance. “My bet is that the main trail sweeper is Latimer himself, with a little help from his buddies in military intelligence. I’ve been invited to a few charity events Latimer has sponsored at a local hotel. He only attends once in a while, and when he does, he’s like a ghost. No one ever gets a good look at him, let alone talk to him. Rumor has it, he even has his women imported from other parts of the world. His deliberate avoidance of the women around here only adds to his mystique and allure. And to local females’ frustration. You have to tell me every detail about the cocktail party.”

“You mean you think I should go?”

Ruth looked scandalized. “Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? That’s a golden ticket you’re holding right there. His staff guards him like Fort Knox, both here and in San Francisco. Even if Latimer does his ghost act at this cocktail party, though, just getting behind those gates is a major coup. I’ve never been invited to the compound.”

“But—”

“You will go,” Ruth said with a glare. Harper gave her a dry don’t even think you can push me around look. Ruth seemed to realize her harshness and laughed. “Jesus, how to explain to a peasant that you don’t turn down an invitation from the king?” Harper opened her mouth to defend herself. “Oh, calm down,” Ruth said, cutting her off with a wave of her hand and the air of someone who had more important things to consider than soothing a frayed ego. She took Harper by the arm and urged her toward her office. “I’m not being difficult, Harper. Honestly. It’s just you don’t get Tahoe Shores yet. Sure, we’re a little Podunk town, but at the same time, we host some of the biggest movers and shakers in the world on that lakeshore. The Silicon Valley elite flock to the Nevada Tahoe shores for the tax breaks and the incredible views, and Jacob Latimer is one of the biggest of them all.” Ruth stepped back in front of Harper’s desk, letting go of her arm. “Now. Are you a newswoman, or not?”

Harper stilled at the challenge, eyes narrowing. “Of course.”

“Then you’re going to that damn party because this is the best bit of news this pitiful newspaper has had in ages. Who knows, maybe you’ll get some dirt on Latimer in that close of proximity.”

“I’m an editor now, not a reporter. Let alone an undercover one.”

“I don’t care if you’re Ben freaking Bradlee, you’re going.” Ruth pointed at Harper’s chair. “Now sit down, and I’ll try to prepare you for what you’re about to get into. As best I can, anyway, since I only have my imagination to go on as far as what happens behind those gates.”

Harper gave a bark of disbelieving laughter, but started around her desk, nevertheless. Some people might have been offended by Ruth’s manner, but plainspoken bossiness was familiar to her. Ruth was the closest thing to a savvy newspaperwoman Harper had run into at the Gazette. The truth was, she wouldn’t let Ruth boss her around if she wasn’t curious herself about the invitation.

“You make a cocktail party sound like it’s life altering,” Harper said, plopping into her chair.