Odnośniki
- Index
- Christine Feehan Dark 05 Dark Challenge
- Fred Saberhagen The Book of the Gods 05 Gods of Fire and Thunder
- Aubrey Ross [Enemy Embrace 05] Madam [EC Aeon] (revised) (pdf)
- Caine Rachel Wampiry z Morganville 05 Pan Ciemności Tłumaczenie Oficjalne
- John Ringo Alldenata 05 The Hero (with Williamson, Michael)
- Alan Dean Foster Commonwealth 05 Sentenced to Prism
- Godeng Gert Krew i Wino 05 Palec Kasandry
- 05 Bloody Bones Anita Blake
- Brian Lumley Necroscope 05 Deadspawn
- King Stephen Pokochala Toma Gordona
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- russ.opx.pl
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entire section in the bar exam. Too, Tom Rutland s reaction to the news had
been more personal than professional, with his voice going tight, his thoughts
distracted.
She called to Williams that they were going to have a visitor, and returned
to her search.
The desk itself contained a minimum of paper, mostly paid bills and
catalogues from auction houses all over the world. The answering machine held
eleven messages, most of which sounded like business, since the callers left
their full name and numbers and had invariably phoned during weekday work
hours. The only exceptions were the second and seventh calls, both left by the
same English voice, identifying himself merely as Ian. Ian s first message
had come at 8:21 the previous Monday morning:
Philip, this is Ian. God, man, this is really something, but honestly, you
can t be serious. Can you? Anyway, give me a ring on my mobile.
Then at 7:49 Thursday evening he had called again:
Philip, I don t know if you got the message I left the other day, but do
ring me when you get a chance. I ll be back the first of the week, but call me
any time. I need to talk to you about this before it goes any further.
Williams made note of the names, numbers, and times they had been left. The
earliest one was the previous Sunday, January the twenty-fifth, the latest
yesterday, Friday the thirtieth.
They also found Gilbert s keys, to the house and to the Lexus parked up the
block. They were in a small bowl on the back of the desk, a bowl that, going
by the scratches and nicks in its surface, was where they usually lived. Kate
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picked them up curiously. Don t you think it s odd to keep your house keys up
on the third floor?
Maybe he has another set downstairs.
But if he did, they couldn t find them. Maybe he had left in a hurry, and
couldn t be bothered climbing upstairs to get the keys; hence the unturned
dead bolt on the door.
Kate happened to be looking out of the window when a brand-new, glossy black
BMW purred past the house, searching for a parking space. It found one up the
block, and a vigorous, thickset man in his forties got out, dressed in
expensive designer jeans, leather loafers worn without socks, and a gleaming
black leather bomber jacket over a shirt printed with a sort of Balinese
design, carrying a slightly less pristine leather briefcase in his hand. The
entire package read: lawyer called in on his day off. His hair was carefully
styled to hide the fact that it was going thin on top, and the tan of his face
in winter testified to either a Mexican holiday or hours on the slopes. One
hand jabbed his controls at the car, which responded with a flash of lights.
Kate heard him call a greeting to the rose pruner across the street as she
opened the door to let him in.
Inspector Martinelli? Tom Rutland. Sorry to make you wait for me. He didn t
sound in the least sorry; still, in spite of her instant antagonism it was all
Kate could do not to reach out and caress the sumptuous leather of his jacket.
His casual day-off shirt was either silk or heavy rayon, and just under the
fold of the collar was a small pin that read 221B. He had no goggle marks
around his eyes: Mexico, not ski slopes.
No problem, she replied easily, standing back to let him in. This is
Inspector Williams, from the Park Police.
Hands were shaken, then the lawyer arranged his face into a suitably mournful
set, lowered his voice, and said, I was shocked to hear of Philip s death. He
was a friend, as well as a client. What happened? Not an automobile accident I
saw his car outside. He directed his question to Williams, and Kate allowed
the Park Service man to answer.
No, Williams said. Mr. Rutland, there appears to be a possibility that Mr.
Gilbert was murdered.
Murdered?Philip? A break-in, oh God, I told him he should upgrade that alarm
system of his
We ve found no signs of a break-in, Mr. Rutland, and his body was found
elsewhere.
Then, what?
As I said, it s under investigation. Were you friends?
Murdered? Rutland repeated, working to get his mind around the idea.
Clearly, the lawyer s practice did not embrace a lot of criminal law.
You say you were friends? Williams prompted. This time, to effect.
Yes. Not close friends, but I suppose about as close as Philip had. The kind
of friendship that, when he needed to consult me about something, he d
schedule it for late morning and when we finished we d go for lunch. Mostly I
saw him at a dinner group we both belonged to. I d be seeing him next week.
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I ll have to tell the others about it. Christ, it s hard to believe.
Mr. Rutland, do you know of any business Mr. Gilbert might have had in the
parkland just north of the Golden Gate Bridge?
What, on Point Bonita? Not that I know of. He isn t wasn t much of an
outdoorsman.
To say nothing of the fact that he was in his pajamas, thought Kate.
Why? the lawyer asked. Is that where he& where you found him?
Yes, Williams answered, although it would appear that he died elsewhere.
Murdered. Jesus.
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