Sleight of Hand - By Phillip Margolin Page 0,13
Dana hoped he wasn’t going to pass out.
“Professor, someone just tried to murder you. There could be a second attempt.”
“But you said there wouldn’t be if I told you what you want to know,” Pickering said. He sounded desperate.
“I think the odds of another attempt will be small if you tell me who asked you to look at the scepter.”
Pickering didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his temples. Then he sighed.
“Rene Marchand.”
“Who?”
“Rene is an antiques dealer. His office is in Seattle. He specializes in rare European antiquities. He’s more of a broker. He doesn’t have a store.”
“Did he own the scepter or was he representing a client?”
“He wouldn’t answer any questions about the piece, but I got the impression that he was acting for a client. He only wanted my opinion on its authenticity.”
“What was your opinion?”
“I couldn’t say for certain that the scepter was the object the sultan gave to Gennadius, but it could have been. There are few written descriptions of the scepter, and the jewels had been removed. It was unquestionably from the appropriate time period, and the amount of gold used led me to believe that it had to have been created for someone of immense wealth like Mehmet II.”
“Where did you examine the scepter?”
“In Rene’s office. He was quite explicit about that. He didn’t let it out of his sight. There were two bodyguards watching me the whole time. It was rather unsettling.”
“Can you think of anything Mr. Marchand said that would help me find his client?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Is there a police station on the island?”
“What? No, the nearest police station is on the mainland.”
“Then you’ll have to call them.”
Pickering’s head snapped up. “No, no police.”
“I’m sure the killer didn’t expect me to come after him. He may have left evidence in the woods that will tell the authorities who tried to kill you.”
“I don’t want the police involved. If the police investigate, it will just bring me to the attention of . . . of whoever did this.”
“Look, Professor, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your decision. If you don’t want to go to the police I’ll respect your choice. But I think you’re making a mistake. At least think about it.”
“I just want this to go away.”
Dana got the address of Marchand’s office and tried again, unsuccessfully, to convince the professor to call the police.
“You have my card,” Dana said as she prepared to leave. “It’s got my cell number on it. Call me if you think of anything.”
Pickering nodded but Dana doubted she would ever hear from the professor. He looked genuinely frightened and anxious to put everything that had happened behind him.
Dana was alert for cars that might be following her when she drove back to the inn through the storm. By the time she was safely inside the B&B it was late afternoon. Dana found Mr. and Mrs. Stanton reading in the parlor. She asked them for Emilio Leone’s phone number and called when she was in her room.
“Captain, this is Dana Cutler. I’ve finished my business here. Is there any chance we can head back to the mainland tonight?”
“Not in this storm. It’s hard enough in daylight. I ain’t risking my boat in this weather in the dark.”
“When do you think we can go?”
“Maybe tomorrow afternoon, but I ain’t promising. Depends on the weather.”
“I’ll be ready when you are. Will you call me when you know?”
“I’ll do that,” Leone said. Then the phone went dead.
Dana sighed. It probably wouldn’t matter whether they left tonight or tomorrow. Odds were Marchand’s office would be closed by the time she got back to Seattle. She hoped it would be open on Sunday.
Dana dialed Margo Laurent’s cell.
“Ms. Laurent, this is Dana Cutler,” she said when her client answered. “I’m calling from Isla de Muerta.”
“Did you meet with Pickering?” Laurent asked. Dana could hear the anxiety in her client’s voice.
“I did, but something unexpected happened while we were talking. Someone tried to kill the professor.”
“What!”
“Someone shot at him. He’s okay, but I think you held out on me.”
“I didn’t. I had no idea you would be in danger. You have to believe me.”
“Whether I do or not, the fact remains that someone is willing to kill to keep the scepter. Do you have any idea who that is?”
“No. I told you my grandparents were murdered and about the robbery. But that was years ago. Did you learn anything from the professor?”
“I know who asked him to authenticate the scepter.”
“Who is it?”
“Have you