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Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml) Page B
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more likely.
Van Dyne looked toward the dining room door. I followed her gaze. There, by the red-marble fireplace in the second parlor, stood Prince Albert. He was beckoning to van Dyne, but when he saw me he whirled toward the hall.
"Excuse me," van Dyne said, "someone I must speak with." She hurried through the crowd after him.
Thoughtfully, I sipped my wine. What was Prince Albert doing here? Why wasn't he at the home show?
And what was his connection with van Dyne? Naturally all the preservationists would know one another, but those two seemed a strange pair. I threaded my way through the second parlor and looked into the hall. Van Dyne and Prince Albert were nowhere in sight. Probably she'd taken him into some area of the house off limits to outsiders.
Well, I couldn't follow them there, but I could locate Prince Albert's panel truck and see where he would go next. I set my wineglass on a passing tray and left.
The truck was parked only two blocks away. If I hurried, I could fetch my car and idle up the street until my quarry returned. But then again… I slipped behind the truck and tested the rear doors.
Yes, Prince Albert hadn't locked them. In fact, the lock was broken. I glanced over my shoulder. Although dusk had fallen, this was a well-traveled street and the buildings on it had many windows. Suppose someone had seen Prince Albert park the truck and now saw a strange woman climb in? Would he call the police or simply mind his own business, as so many did in this age of noninvolvement? I'd have to take the chance.
I climbed into the back of the truck, conscious of headlights from passing cars. Three cardboard cartons rested there, including the one I thought I'd seen Prince Albert load earlier. Had he really gone to the trade show to replace his broken fixtures? Or had he merely made up that story to avoid talking to me?
I crawled forward, wishing it were not necessary to keep my back to the doors. As I reached for the first box my ears strained for an approaching footfall. I grasped the lid and lifted it. Stared down inside. My lips parted at what I saw.
A shade. Tiffany, it must be. Leaves, tiny pieces of glass in red, gold, and brown. A broad grin of teeth. And the eye, greenish yellow. The Cheshire Cat's Eye.
Voices sounded on the sidewalk, and I began to tremble, all senses alert for danger. The voices passed. Controlling myself, I crept further forward and opened the other two boxes. More leaves. Two more grins. Two more eyes.
Replicas, naturally. Prince Albert must have cast these off the original. Gingerly, I lifted the lamp. Yes, the tubular piece of metal I had found at the murder scene was a delicate bronze tree limb that held a bulb. But where had the broken lamp gone? It wasn't the original; it was electric. So was this one. Was the original in one of the other boxes.
Footsteps on the sidewalk made me almost drop the lamp. I replaced it in the carton and flattened against the wall of the truck. I held my breath, torn between hiding and taking flight.
The footsteps, like the voices before, passed. I scrambled toward the rear doors, slamming them shut behind me as I jumped from the truck.
----
----
CHAPTER 14
Contents - Prev / Next
I idled at the curb in my MG. Its engine coughed, reminding me of its long-needed tune-up. Well, I'd take care of that later, after I'd unraveled the puzzle of the Cheshire Cat's Eye.
Traffic streamed past me. I was on Franklin Street, a one-way artery to the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin County. At least it would not be easy for Prince Albert to spot me among the other cars.
I tensed as I saw his wiry figure lope down the steps of the Haas-Lilienthal mansion and head toward his truck. As soon as I'd fled, I was sorry I hadn't had the nerve to stay and examine the other two cartons, but now I felt a flood of relief. Had I, Prince Albert would surely have discovered me.
The truck pulled out into a break in traffic. So did I.
The truck stayed in the left-hand
Van Dyne looked toward the dining room door. I followed her gaze. There, by the red-marble fireplace in the second parlor, stood Prince Albert. He was beckoning to van Dyne, but when he saw me he whirled toward the hall.
"Excuse me," van Dyne said, "someone I must speak with." She hurried through the crowd after him.
Thoughtfully, I sipped my wine. What was Prince Albert doing here? Why wasn't he at the home show?
And what was his connection with van Dyne? Naturally all the preservationists would know one another, but those two seemed a strange pair. I threaded my way through the second parlor and looked into the hall. Van Dyne and Prince Albert were nowhere in sight. Probably she'd taken him into some area of the house off limits to outsiders.
Well, I couldn't follow them there, but I could locate Prince Albert's panel truck and see where he would go next. I set my wineglass on a passing tray and left.
The truck was parked only two blocks away. If I hurried, I could fetch my car and idle up the street until my quarry returned. But then again… I slipped behind the truck and tested the rear doors.
Yes, Prince Albert hadn't locked them. In fact, the lock was broken. I glanced over my shoulder. Although dusk had fallen, this was a well-traveled street and the buildings on it had many windows. Suppose someone had seen Prince Albert park the truck and now saw a strange woman climb in? Would he call the police or simply mind his own business, as so many did in this age of noninvolvement? I'd have to take the chance.
I climbed into the back of the truck, conscious of headlights from passing cars. Three cardboard cartons rested there, including the one I thought I'd seen Prince Albert load earlier. Had he really gone to the trade show to replace his broken fixtures? Or had he merely made up that story to avoid talking to me?
I crawled forward, wishing it were not necessary to keep my back to the doors. As I reached for the first box my ears strained for an approaching footfall. I grasped the lid and lifted it. Stared down inside. My lips parted at what I saw.
A shade. Tiffany, it must be. Leaves, tiny pieces of glass in red, gold, and brown. A broad grin of teeth. And the eye, greenish yellow. The Cheshire Cat's Eye.
Voices sounded on the sidewalk, and I began to tremble, all senses alert for danger. The voices passed. Controlling myself, I crept further forward and opened the other two boxes. More leaves. Two more grins. Two more eyes.
Replicas, naturally. Prince Albert must have cast these off the original. Gingerly, I lifted the lamp. Yes, the tubular piece of metal I had found at the murder scene was a delicate bronze tree limb that held a bulb. But where had the broken lamp gone? It wasn't the original; it was electric. So was this one. Was the original in one of the other boxes.
Footsteps on the sidewalk made me almost drop the lamp. I replaced it in the carton and flattened against the wall of the truck. I held my breath, torn between hiding and taking flight.
The footsteps, like the voices before, passed. I scrambled toward the rear doors, slamming them shut behind me as I jumped from the truck.
----
----
CHAPTER 14
Contents - Prev / Next
I idled at the curb in my MG. Its engine coughed, reminding me of its long-needed tune-up. Well, I'd take care of that later, after I'd unraveled the puzzle of the Cheshire Cat's Eye.
Traffic streamed past me. I was on Franklin Street, a one-way artery to the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin County. At least it would not be easy for Prince Albert to spot me among the other cars.
I tensed as I saw his wiry figure lope down the steps of the Haas-Lilienthal mansion and head toward his truck. As soon as I'd fled, I was sorry I hadn't had the nerve to stay and examine the other two cartons, but now I felt a flood of relief. Had I, Prince Albert would surely have discovered me.
The truck pulled out into a break in traffic. So did I.
The truck stayed in the left-hand
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