Father Formula. Muriel JensenЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter One

      Alexis Ames reclined on her side on her sister Athena’s bed, propped up on her elbow as she watched her fold clothing into a dark blue soft-sided bag. Athena, usually serious and sedate, placed a flowered bra and matching French-cut panties into the bag’s front pocket.

      “Now, there’s something I never thought I’d see,” Alexis said, pointing to the scraps of silk and lace as they were tucked away. “How will you be able to keep a straight face while addressing the jury, knowing you’re wearing those?”

      Athena blushed and laughed. “David bought them for me. And I won’t be in court this trip.”

      Alexis was fascinated by her sister’s blush. Athena had changed in a score of subtle little ways since taking up with David Hartford.

      Athena practiced law in Washington, D.C., a champion of the oppressed and the underdog. She’d always been the serious one of the Ames triplets, every detail of her life organized for the best and most efficient outcome.

      Of course, their aunt’s sudden death in the crash of a light plane in Hawaii had changed all their lives. Athena had taken time off from her law practice, Alexis had left her art studio in Rome, and Augusta had arranged for a substitute teacher and had flown in from northern California for the reading of Aunt Sadie’s will at the Portland, Oregon, office of her attorney.

      The news that Sadie had left Cliffside, her family’s home, to a mysterious beneficiary named David Hartford made all three sisters suspicious. Sadie had always promised the home to her nieces, and the will offered no explanation for the sudden change in plans.

      When they’d learned that Hartford had already taken possession of Cliffside and had rented the guest house and the garage apartment to friends, Alexis and her sisters had rented a car and driven to Dancer’s Beach on the Oregon Coast. They invited themselves to a costume party the men were hosting in an attempt to discover, through clever subterfuge, what they didn’t seem to be able to uncover with straightforward questions.

      Only things had backfired. The men had been dressed as the Three Musketeers, wigged and masked and of similar height and coloring. Each sister had attached herself to one of the men, the plan being that she could use whatever means she deemed fit to gather information.

      When they’d met back at their car sometime later, Athena had been the only one who still questioned the men’s sincerity. Then Alexis and her sisters had resigned themselves to the situation and returned to their lives.

      And then, just one brief week ago, Alexis had been visiting with friends at the American Club in Rome and seen a television broadcast about an unidentified young woman rescued from the Columbia River at Astoria, Oregon. The reporter said that a blow to the head had left her with amnesia.

      Alexis gasped at the grainy image of the woman on a gurney being lifted into the back of an ambulance. It was one of her sisters. And she was very pregnant.

      As she tried to assimilate that information she’d run closer to the television, hoping for a clue that would tell her which sister it was.

      “When the victim’s sister, Athena Ames, came with a friend to Astoria to claim her,” the reporter went on, “the mystery woman had disappeared. She is five-seven, about 120 pounds, has long red hair, dark blue eyes, and may be looking for food or work since she had no purse and no identification on her when she was pulled from the river. She has now been missing eight days.”

      Alexis had stared in disbelief, then tried to call Athena, only to learn that she was on leave from the office for an indefinite period of time. Then she remembered that the news story had said “by the time her sister arrived—” and realized that she must be in Oregon. She called Patrick Connelly, a private detective who often worked for Athena, who gave her an address in Dancer’s Beach.

      Alexis had hung up the phone and stared at the note she’d taken. Her sister was staying at the former home of their aunt. But where was the man who now owned the home?

      She recalled that the news story had said, “by the time her sister and a friend had arrived—” Could it be…? She couldn’t believe it.

      But it was true.

      When Athena and David Hartford met at the hospital, they’d decided to join forces in their search for Gusty, and had just decided to make the alliance permanent. Alexis and David’s friend, Trevyn McGinty, had been their witnesses just two days ago in a simple service at Faith Community Church. Athena appeared to be hopelessly in love with David.

      “Writers are temperamental, you know,” Alexis said, referring to her new brother-in-law’s current profession. With one sister missing, the other changed, and with the discovery that Aunt Sadie had left David the house because she, too, had been a CIA agent code-named “Auntie,” Alexis was beginning to feel like a trespasser in someone else’s life. “You’re sure you’re doing the right thing, closing up your D.C. office to open a law office in Dancer’s Beach? I mean, you’re used to big-city doings and important cases. What’ll you find here to match that?”

      Athena smiled. It was a scary look. Her usually intense sister actually appeared serene. “I’ve already found it,” Athena replied. “And it far surpasses everything I’ve known so far.”

      Alexis would have found that nauseating if Athena hadn’t been so sincere.

      “What if this literary agent is wrong, and the publishers he wants David to meet don’t consider him publishable after all?”

      Athena shrugged. “Then he’ll find another one. It’s a good book. A great book.”

      Alexis leaned over the side of the bed to catch a folded pair of socks Athena had thrown at the suitcase and overshot. She tossed them back.

      “So they really were CIA agents? Our Musketeers?”

      Athena nodded as she closed the lid on the suitcase. “They really were. That’s why it’s such a great book. It’s fiction, but it’s based on everything David really knows.”

      Alexis sat up as Athena carried her suitcase to the door. “I’m sorry, but it’s hard for me to imagine Trevyn McGinty as a CIA agent. Maybe as a cop in Car 54, Where Are You?…”

      Athena gave her a scolding look over her shoulder as she pulled a lined raincoat out of the closet. “Lex, you’re going to be here with him for at least a week helping with the boys while David’s in New York and I close up my office. You have to buff up your attitude.”

      “He keeps making smart remarks to me.”

      “In response to your smart remarks.” Athena grinned. “You’re just upset because he got the better of you in that little altercation when you thought he’d broken in.”

      “Sure he did.” Alexis avoided her sister’s glance as she picked up her tote bag off the bed. “He’s bigger and he didn’t mind using his muscle.”

      “It was dark,” Athena defended him. “He thought you were attacking him!”

      Alexis had a clear memory of McGinty sprawled over her body on the kitchen floor as the frying pan she’d wielded flew through the air and crashed into the dishes on the drying rack. She remembered gasping for breath, certain her back would break.

      She sighed dispiritedly. “To think I went to self-defense classes two nights a week for three months.”

      Athena laughed and opened the door. “I’m sure the training Uncle Sam gave him was more heavy-duty than your class at the Rome Y. You’re