Shadows in Scarlet by Lillian Stewart Carl Read Free Book Online Page A

miniature of Grant come from?"
    "Cynthia bought it at a London auction house several years ago. She's been on the art and antiques circuit for years, so the dealer knew it was something she'd want and contacted her in plenty of time for the sale. Earning himself a tidy sum in the process, no doubt."
    "And before that?"
    "Someplace in Britain. In Scotland, I guess, since Grant was in a Highland regiment. He had to come from somewhere, didn't he?"
    Other than the fourth dimension, Amanda thought. “It says “Dundreggan” on the back of the picture...."
    Carrie's brows rose.
    "I knocked it over the other day,” Amanda explained. “It's all right, I put it back together."
    "Watch it, young lady,” Carrie told her with mock severity. “Never heard of Dundreggan, sorry. I can look it up, if you like, when I get back to the library next week."
    "I'll see what I can find on the Net. Clan Grant, that sort of thing."
    "The other day you'd hardly admit James Grant existed."
    "Yeah, well.... I thought I'd include Melrose's cast of characters in my thesis. Hang the artifacts on the family tree."
    "Human beings wandering among the jargon in an academic paper?"
    Amanda grinned. “All this time you thought I was a meek little scholar and I turn out to be a radical anarchist."
    "There's plenty about Page and Sally at the library,” Carrie went on. “About all the Armstrongs, for that matter, if you're wanting to get that close and personal. But Grant.... Hmmm. The histories on this side of the Atlantic are written from the American point of view, naturally, but maybe I can order his military records from the UK. An army bureaucracy grinds slowly, but it grinds exceedingly fine."
    "There're regimental museums all over the UK, aren't there? And everybody's got a web site these days.” Amanda saw menus and links unfurling like battle flags before her eyes.
    Carrie stood and stretched. “Why don't you ask Cynthia where the miniature came from? Art dealers aren't always as picky as they should be about provenience, but Lady C. would never buy something that wasn't authentic."
    "Thanks a lot, Carrie. You're a big help."
    "No problem. Can't have you wandering the groves of academe all by yourself, you might get mugged by a footnote."
    "Isn't that the truth.” Careers were made and broken on the strength of your sources. The problem was, Amanda had a source she couldn't footnote at all.
    "I'd better run,” Carrie went on. “Every now and then I have to maintain the illusion I'm a responsible housewife and mother. See you tomorrow."
    "Take care.” Amanda hauled herself to her feet, saw Carrie out into the amber-rich sunlight of early evening, and locked the door after her.
    She stood for a few moments listening. The house was silent, like the chattering groups of tourists had taken sound away with them. The moist air echoed hollowly in her ears. Not a breath stirred.
    Smooth move. If Hewitt managed to identify James Grant's body, she was going to owe Carrie some kind of explanation for her premature interest in him. And yet she couldn't bring herself to wait for proof that might never come. What a coincidence, she rehearsed, that I should just be asking about the man....
    Don't worry about something that hasn't happened yet, she told herself. She went into the library and searched the shelves for an atlas. The only one she found dated from the seventies. Wayne's name was pencilled on the flyleaf in the painstaking hand of a child who's just learned to write cursive. Dundreggan wasn't listed in the index. She turned to the map of Great Britain and stared blankly at it, but no mental light bulbs went on.
    She replaced the book and headed back to her apartment for her evening ritual of cat food, T-shirt, inspection tour, and a quick meal. Nothing was changed from the night before, unless it was Lafayette's pose on the windowsill, left-to-right instead of right-to-left.
    She considered going to see the Brad Pitt movie—there was style for