Free The Victim in Victoria Station by Jeanne M. Dams Page A

came back out of his study, Lynn and I pounced on him.
    â€œWell, okay, I’ve got a little. Not a lot, but what there is, is somewhat surprising, I don’t mind admitting. There’s word on the street that Multilinks isn’t doing very well on this side of the pond, and nobody quite understands why. They’ve got a hot product, they’ve got good people, they’ve got the markets—but they don’t seem to be making much money.”
    â€œIs somebody raking something off the top?”
    â€œNot likely, according to my sources. That was my first thought, of course. Seems like they’re just not getting the orders. If rumor is true, that is.”
    â€œDo you think it is?”
    â€œThese guys have never led me astray before. Of course, there’s always a first time.”
    â€œHow about the company stock?” asked Lynn. “Is it doing anything unexpected?”
    â€œI don’t know. My best stock-market tipster wasn’t available until this afternoon.”
    â€œThen we might as well go shopping, Dorothy,” Lynn insisted. “Sitting around here waiting will drive us both crazy.”
    She was right, of course, and it had been quite a while since I’d had the pleasure of accompanying Lynn on a shopping expedition. Her ideas on the subject are entirely different from mine. She loves antiques and has the money to indulge her taste, so we went to Christie’s and Sotheby’s and pored over catalogues, stopped in a couple of charming little shops in Jermyn Street, and ended up at Fortnum and Mason’s for tea.
    â€œI do love Fortnum’s,” I commented as we walked in the door. “It never changes. They can say what they want about shopping from home over a computer, but just look—a computer could never replace him!” I jerked my head toward a clerk in the traditional morning coat and striped trousers. Crystal chandeliers hung over the displays of foodstuffs, which ranged from fresh fruit and vegetables so beautiful one might have thought they were made of wax, to mouthwatering smoked salmon and pâtés, to Campbell’s soups in flavors like mulligatawny and vichyssoise. I sighed luxuriously. “My idea of the ultimate treat someday is to go somewhere wonderful and summery, like Glyndebourne, with some marvelous champagne and a hamper from Fortnum’s. It sounds so thoroughly English and ever so slightly decadent.”
    â€œYou’re on!” said Lynn. “I’ve
always
wanted to do Glyndebourne myself, but Tom says picnicking on damp lawns in evening dress is not his idea of a good time, and he won’t do it. We’ll go, just the two of us, and have a lovely little party without the men. This
very
summer.”
    â€œIt’s a date.” And we went upstairs to have a fabulous, and wildly expensive, tea, and to gloat over Lynn’s purchase of a perfectly gorgeous old Wedgwood vase.
    All the same, I was prickly with impatience to get back to the house and talk to Tom, and so was Lynn.
    His news was interesting, but puzzling. He came straight to the point. “You asked about stock, Lynn, but it’s no go. Multilinks hasn’t gone public yet. They’re expected to issue a stock offering soon, though, or they were. Now it seems the issue could be delayed, in view of their poor performance in the international market.”
    â€œDid any of your sources have any explanation for that poor performance?”
    â€œNot a clue. The guys who know the most about it say a lot of potential customers came along and then just seemed to evaporate, lose interest, whatever.”
    â€œThese would be—who? What kind of customers? Individuals, or businesses, or—”
    â€œIndividuals wouldn’t buy this software. It’s way too expensive, up there in the thousands of bucks. Businesses, or government agencies. As you’ve realized, it’s most useful to the developing