Sleight of Hand: A Novel of Suspense (Dana Cutler) by Phillip Margolin Page B

realized that the plot and your characters were right out of a potboiler. So I tailed you and George here from the condo on Victoria.”
    “Do you have any idea who Laurent is or why she’s playing a practical joke on you?” Ralph asked.
    “I haven’t a clue. I live outside of Washington, D.C. Laurent —or whoever she is—met me at a D.C. restaurant and told me she’d pay me twenty-five grand plus expenses to recover this Ottoman Scepter.”
    Ralph whistled. “You got twenty-five grand and expenses and we got twenty and expenses. That’s an expensive joke.”
    “Exactly what I’ve been thinking, but I may have dug up a clue as to the person behind it. The house on the island and the condo on Victoria are both owned by Horace Blair, and Blair is a multimillionaire. Do any of you know him?”
    “I do,” Marty Draper said.
    “How?” Dana asked.
    “I haven’t seen the Blairs in a while, but I’ve sold them art for their home on Isla de Muerta. His wife, Carrie, has been in the gallery a few times.”
    “This makes no sense,” Dana said.
    “Do you think Horace has it in for you? Was he involved in some case you worked on?” Patty asked.
    “I’ve never met Horace Blair. I’ve never even heard of him. And I can’t think of any case I worked on where his name came up. Besides, this prank doesn’t smell like revenge. I’ll come away with almost twenty-five thou for a few days’ work. He could have hired someone to hurt me for a hell of a lot less than that.”
    “You said you’re from D.C.?” Patty said.
    “Yeah.”
    “Maybe Laurent needed to get you away from the East Coast. She sent you three thousand miles from home and told us to run you around until Friday.”
    “I can’t think of any reason for her to do it. I don’t have anything going on this Thursday.” Dana shook her head. “None of this makes any sense.”
    “I can’t agree more,” Ralph said with a cheerful smile. “And there’s no sense brooding over it. We’ve all made a nice fee for very little work, and I for one am not going to complain.”
    There was a pitcher of beer sitting on the table. Ralph pointed to it. “Can we treat you to a pint and dinner? It’s the least we can do.”
    “Beer and a cheeseburger sounds great,” Dana said. “Maybe if I get good and drunk, this caper will make some sense.”

Chapter Fifteen
    On Wednesday afternoon, Sarah Gelfand rushed from her part-time bookkeeping job to the grocery store. She was almost at the checkout counter when she remembered that Bob, her husband, wanted her to buy chips and salsa because he was having some of his buddies over to watch football on Sunday.
    By the time she found the chips and bought a jar of salsa it was almost time to pick up her eight-year-old twins from their karate class. She arrived at the dojo just in time, drove home, and was starting to unload the groceries from the station wagon when Bob pulled into the garage. He was helping her carry the groceries into the kitchen when the phone rang.
    “Is this Sarah Gelfand?” a man asked when Sarah picked up.
    “Yes.”
    “My name is Stuart Lang. I manage the River View Mall. Your father, Ernest Brodsky, rents space from us.”
    “Yes?” Sarah said. She was not certain why Lang was calling her, but the mention of her father worried her. He’d had some problems with his heart lately.
    “I apologize for calling you but Mr. Brodsky’s rent is way overdue. I talked to him about it at the beginning of the month and he assured me he would pay me today, but there was no check in the mail and his shop was closed when I went by.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I stopped by twice. Once around eleven, when the mail was delivered. Then I went back at three-thirty.”
    “And it was closed both times?”
    “Yes. I could see mail on the floor just inside the store.”
    Sarah was concerned. “Dad never misses a day.”
    “Do you have any idea where he is?” Lang asked.
    “Have you called his