that would assist her in her quest.
She was already having doubts about the wisdom of her late-night bargain with Cyrus. This morning he seemed suspiciously cheerful and easygoing, a little too complacent for her peace of mind. She had a nagging feeling that she had allowed herself to be manipulated.
She reminded herself that although they had struck a bargain, the truth was they each had entirely separate agendas here on Frog Cove Island.
"Come on, be a sport. Where's your sense of adventure?" Cyrus opened the first door on the right with a small flourish. "What are the odds that there's more than one dead body in this house?"
"I don't know. I was never very good at math." She went to stand beside him. The bedroom was typical of the others they had encountered on the tour. Lots of reflective surfaces, frosted glass tables, and white-on-white furniture.
Cyrus looked up at the mirrored ceiling. "On a sunny day you'd have to wear shades in here."
"I admit his designer may have gone a bit overboard with the mirrors." Eugenia started toward the next room. "I wonder who the architect was."
Cyrus looked suddenly thoughtful. "That, Ms. Swift, is an excellent question."
She glanced back at him, surprised by his serious tone. "Why do you say that?"
"Because if the Hades cup is hidden in this house, it will no doubt be in a concealed safe, which would have been engineered into the original design."
She stopped at the next door and paused with her hand on the knob. "You really do believe that cup exists and that Daventry had it, don't you?"
"You really do believe that Nellie Grant was murdered, don't you?" he asked dryly.
She'd asked for that, she thought. "You think I've cooked up a fantasy to explain her death."
"My professional opinion? Murder is a very outside possibility here. There's no obvious motive. Nothing more to go on than your intuition, when you get right down to it."
"You're the one who's following a few rumors about an old legend. In my professional opinion, the Hades cup doesn't exist."
He held her eyes. "All I need from you is your silence, not your expert opinion."
"And all I need from you is your professional expertise."
"You got it."
"This is crazy," she muttered. "Both of us think that the other is on a wild goose chase."
"Not exactly the basis for a good working relationship, but what the hell," Cyrus said. His eyes were very green. "We have a deal, right? I'll help you find out what happened to Nellie Grant if you'll keep quiet about the real reason I'm here."
"Yes." She shoved open the door. "We've got a deal"
She glanced into the room, expecting to see yet another mirrored ceiling, chrome bed, and lots of glittering glass surfaces.
Thick darkness spilled out of the chamber.
Eugenia was amazed. "Well, what do you know. A room in Glass House without any windows."
"Interesting." Cyrus reached around her to find a light switch.
There was a click. A series of pinpoint lights came on in the stygian gloom. The dramatic illumination revealed a maze of black glass pedestals. Each display stand was topped with a glass case that contained a work of art.
The lights had been arranged so that only the objects in the display cases were visible. All of the space between and around the stands was lost in inky shadow. A handful of paintings, also illuminated with pinpoint lights, hung on the walls.
"An art gallery." Curious, Eugenia walked into the heavily shadowed room. "But this one isn't devoted to glass."
"I wonder why it wasn't kept locked like the basement vault?"
Eugenia paused in front of one of the pedestals. She studied the sculpture of an oversized set of male genitalia.
"Probably because the contents aren't particularly valuable," she said.
Cyrus walked over to look at the large penis and scrotum. "That's your opinion."
She grinned in spite of herself. "I was referring to the quality of the artwork, not the subject matter."
"I'm relieved to hear that."
It was too dark to see his face,
She was already having doubts about the wisdom of her late-night bargain with Cyrus. This morning he seemed suspiciously cheerful and easygoing, a little too complacent for her peace of mind. She had a nagging feeling that she had allowed herself to be manipulated.
She reminded herself that although they had struck a bargain, the truth was they each had entirely separate agendas here on Frog Cove Island.
"Come on, be a sport. Where's your sense of adventure?" Cyrus opened the first door on the right with a small flourish. "What are the odds that there's more than one dead body in this house?"
"I don't know. I was never very good at math." She went to stand beside him. The bedroom was typical of the others they had encountered on the tour. Lots of reflective surfaces, frosted glass tables, and white-on-white furniture.
Cyrus looked up at the mirrored ceiling. "On a sunny day you'd have to wear shades in here."
"I admit his designer may have gone a bit overboard with the mirrors." Eugenia started toward the next room. "I wonder who the architect was."
Cyrus looked suddenly thoughtful. "That, Ms. Swift, is an excellent question."
She glanced back at him, surprised by his serious tone. "Why do you say that?"
"Because if the Hades cup is hidden in this house, it will no doubt be in a concealed safe, which would have been engineered into the original design."
She stopped at the next door and paused with her hand on the knob. "You really do believe that cup exists and that Daventry had it, don't you?"
"You really do believe that Nellie Grant was murdered, don't you?" he asked dryly.
She'd asked for that, she thought. "You think I've cooked up a fantasy to explain her death."
"My professional opinion? Murder is a very outside possibility here. There's no obvious motive. Nothing more to go on than your intuition, when you get right down to it."
"You're the one who's following a few rumors about an old legend. In my professional opinion, the Hades cup doesn't exist."
He held her eyes. "All I need from you is your silence, not your expert opinion."
"And all I need from you is your professional expertise."
"You got it."
"This is crazy," she muttered. "Both of us think that the other is on a wild goose chase."
"Not exactly the basis for a good working relationship, but what the hell," Cyrus said. His eyes were very green. "We have a deal, right? I'll help you find out what happened to Nellie Grant if you'll keep quiet about the real reason I'm here."
"Yes." She shoved open the door. "We've got a deal"
She glanced into the room, expecting to see yet another mirrored ceiling, chrome bed, and lots of glittering glass surfaces.
Thick darkness spilled out of the chamber.
Eugenia was amazed. "Well, what do you know. A room in Glass House without any windows."
"Interesting." Cyrus reached around her to find a light switch.
There was a click. A series of pinpoint lights came on in the stygian gloom. The dramatic illumination revealed a maze of black glass pedestals. Each display stand was topped with a glass case that contained a work of art.
The lights had been arranged so that only the objects in the display cases were visible. All of the space between and around the stands was lost in inky shadow. A handful of paintings, also illuminated with pinpoint lights, hung on the walls.
"An art gallery." Curious, Eugenia walked into the heavily shadowed room. "But this one isn't devoted to glass."
"I wonder why it wasn't kept locked like the basement vault?"
Eugenia paused in front of one of the pedestals. She studied the sculpture of an oversized set of male genitalia.
"Probably because the contents aren't particularly valuable," she said.
Cyrus walked over to look at the large penis and scrotum. "That's your opinion."
She grinned in spite of herself. "I was referring to the quality of the artwork, not the subject matter."
"I'm relieved to hear that."
It was too dark to see his face,
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