Sleight of Hand - By Phillip Margolin Page 0,11
of the sea.
“There’s fresh towels in the bathroom. Here’s your key. Anything else you need, tell me when you come downstairs.”
Dana tossed her duffel bag on the bed and stripped off her clothes. She’d take a fast, scalding-hot shower, eat a hearty meal, then drive to the far side of Isla de Muerta to visit Otto Pickering. Her plan sounded simple enough.
Chapter Six
Dana could hear rain rattling against the B&B’s windows while she devoured her lunch. She hoped that the downpour would let up by the time she drove to Pickering’s house but she was out of luck. If anything, the rain seemed more violent.
The main road was two lanes and it circled Isla de Muerta. The trees on the windward side were sparse, stunted, and bent away from the rocky shore. On the other side of the road, lightning strikes cast a flickering light over a dense evergreen forest. According to Mabel’s map, Pickering’s house was fifteen miles from the inn and two miles past the intersection of the main road and another road that bisected Isla de Muerta. Dana drove slowly and crossed the island’s other artery twenty minutes after she started. Two miles farther on, Dana turned onto a narrow dirt track that led inland through thick woods. A heavy canopy shielded Dana’s car from a good deal of the rain but it also made the way darker and created an impression that the trees were closing in on her. It took a lot to frighten Dana, but the closeness of the primordial woods made her very uncomfortable.
Without warning, Pickering’s house appeared. It was old, large, and ungainly and painted a dull brown to blend in with the forest that surrounded it. The central portion was two stories, and it looked as if additions had been slapped on without any rhyme or reason. Some were one story, others two. There was even a three-story tower on the side with the best view of the sea. None of the property looked kept up; the yard was wild and the house was badly in need of a paint job.
Dana parked and ran under an overhang. There was no bell but a heavy brass lion-head knocker was nailed to the middle of the front door. Dana pulled it back and slammed it forward, hoping that the clang of metal on metal would penetrate the thick oak door and the din created by the storm. She waited a minute, then used the knocker twice more. She was about to try again when she heard a voice yell, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” A minute later, the door creaked open and Dana found herself facing an elderly, balding man with liver-spotted skin. He was stooped with age and clad in a white shirt, a blue polka-dot bow tie, a brown tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, and loose-fitting green slacks that did not match his jacket. The pants were held up by suspenders.
“No solicitors,” Otto Pickering said brusquely.
“I’m not selling anything, Professor.”
“Then why are you here?”
Dana held out her card. “I’ve come on behalf of a client.”
Pickering eyed the card suspiciously.
“I would have called,” Dana said, “but your number is unlisted, and I couldn’t find an e-mail address. This is a matter of some urgency, so I didn’t have the luxury of writing.”
“You still haven’t told me what you want, young lady.”
“I’m here because of the scepter that Sultan Mehmet II gave to Gennadius.”
Surprise registered on Pickering’s face for a moment. Then he regained his composure.
“Can we step inside, please?” Dana said. “I’m drowning out here.”
The professor hesitated, and Dana hoped that he wouldn’t slam the door in her face. Then Pickering turned his back on Dana and walked down a long hall. She rushed inside and followed him.
The interior of the house was paneled in dark wood, dimly lit, and drafty. The carpets were threadbare, and a dank odor pervaded everything. Dana wouldn’t have been surprised to find mold and mushrooms growing on the walls. Pickering led Dana into a large, high-ceilinged room with French windows that gave her a view of the dense forest when lightning flashed. Faded sofas, chipped and scarred coffee and end tables, and sagging armchairs stood on a large Persian carpet. Only a few of the pieces of furniture matched.
A fire roared in a high stone fireplace and provided welcome warmth. A moose head was mounted over the fireplace and Dana had the eerie feeling that it was staring at her. A black bear and