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.And then mad.Charles was a cad, a rat, a scoundrel.I couldn’t find an adequate vocabulary, even dipping into Dickensian adjectives.But no way was I going to let him get away with it any longer—and I had the means to stop him.I caught my plane back and after retrieving my car from the lot, I took off for Marty’s house in the thick of rush-hour traffic.Phil was already there when I arrived, and Libby arrived soon afterward.Phil had brought us an amazing array of tiny toys and was delighted to show us how they worked.We spent an hour playing with them, interrupted only when Marty sent out for pizza.Marty’s row house was large enough that we could test varying distances, and the reception was excellent from anywhere within the building.We also made sure we knew how to activate the recorder, since we might have only one chance to get this right, and we didn’t want to blow it because we didn’t know which button to push.The bugs were simple—tiny disks with sticky stuff on one side.I could keep them in my pocket easily and stick them on the underside of something with no problem.That was the least of my worries.Shortly before eight I stood up.“I’d better get going.Wish me luck, ladies.”“Go get ’em, Nell!”CHAPTER 25It was dark when I left Marty’s house and drove slowly toward Charles’s, and traffic had thinned out.I went around the block a few times until I began to wonder if the police would think I was casing the place.There was only one light on downstairs.I certainly hoped he didn’t have another woman there, but I didn’t think even he could find another dupe that fast, especially if he thought he had Libby on his line.Finally I parked, walked with heavy feet to his stoop, and rang the doorbell.He opened the door quickly.I stood on the step below him, looking up at him.Casually dressed, by his standards—which meant he’d taken off his silk tie and his collar was unbuttoned—he looked tired.But he still looked good, even though I knew what a rat he was.“Hello, Charles.”“Nell.What brings you here?” His voice gave nothing away.“May I come in?”“Of course.Please.Can I get you anything?”“A glass of wine would be nice.” I needed a little liquid courage but had no intention of staying around past the first drink.“I’ll just be a moment.” He disappeared toward the kitchen.I prowled around the parlor, running my finger along the (dust-free) tops of the eighteenth-century tables, reveling in the patina that comes only from years of hand polishing—all the while looking for a good place to stick my first bug.I settled for the underside of the end table next to the elegant damask-covered settee.When I straightened up quickly, I noticed a folder on the side table.Charles was still in the kitchen—I heard the pop of a wine cork, the clink of glasses.Idly I picked up the folder and opened it.Inside there was a hinged mat (acid free, I noted), which when opened revealed an old deed, its brown ink still legible.I tilted it toward the light to make out the signature: William Penn.Oh my.I perused the text briefly—it looked like a deed for a piece of property in Bucks County.A small piece of Pennsylvania history, over three hundred years old.Charles returned, bearing two glasses.I held up the folder.“This is marvelous, Charles.Is it new?”He smiled.“Yes—I saw it in a catalog for an auction in New York, and I just had to indulge myself.It was a bit expensive, but it seemed so appropriate to bring it back to Philadelphia, don’t you think?”“Of course.” I set down the deed down gently, out of harm’s way, before taking one of the glasses from him.He took my elbow and steered me gently toward the damask-covered settee.“You look troubled.” He took a sip, studying my face.“This isn’t really a social call, is it?” he said quietly.“No, Charles, it’s not.” I took a sip of my own wine, then inhaled.“It’s been a hell of a few weeks, hasn’t it? With Alfred dying like that, and now the FBI coming around.”I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a flicker of relief pass over his aristocratic features.“A tragic thing, Alfred’s death—and of course, your finding him.He was a good man.We’ll need to start the search for his successor as soon as possible.”“Of course.But I didn’t really come to talk about Alfred, either.Charles, Alfred’s death made me think about my own life.I mean, the man lived for his work, and he had no life outside of the Society.I don’t want to find myself in that position.”“Nell, what are you trying to say?”For a moment I wondered if he was afraid that I was going to ask him to take our relationship to a higher level, and I hurried to disabuse him of the idea.“Charles, I have truly enjoyed our time together, and you’re a wonderful man.” That’s right, lay it on thick.“But we’ve always been honest with each other.” Like hell we have [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]