The Moche Warrior by Lyn Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

missing a beat.
    Now why did that question not surprise me? “No,”‘ I replied.
    “Ever done business with anyone in Peru?”
    “Again, no.”
    “Any reason to be dealing with someone in Peru, in an official capacity or otherwise?”
    “Not that I can think of.”
    “Your friend Stewart has, I expect,” he countered.
    I didn’t reply, cautiously deciding to take this as a question, not a statement.
    “Seen there, has he?”
    “He may have,” I replied. “I don’t know. He was in the merchant marine for twenty years. He went a lot of places.”
    “Merchant marine, was it? Down on the docks, I expect. Lots of things go down around the docks. Went to Peru. Not so long ago, either,” he replied evenly. “Purser too. Dealt with customs officials very likely.”
    What was I supposed to infer from that? Lewis’s elliptical references were definitely getting on my nerves. “What do you think happened that evening?” I said, forgetting my determination to keep quiet. “Alex tied this guy up, killed him, set fire to the place and then bopped himself on the head? So badly he has a concussion, I might add?”
    “Strange, I grant you. But more likely than the other way around, wouldn’t you say? No sign of anybody else there,” he said, raising his head and looking right at me. Mercifully I heard the door open, and Moira came in.
    “So you’ve
never
seen him?” Lewis persisted, pointing once more to the photo of Lizard.
    There didn’t seem to be any way around this very direct question. To say yes now, however, after I’d said I didn’t know him, would make me look as if I was hiding something, maybe covering for Alex. “No,” I lied.
    Lewis looked at me for several seconds, then turned to Mancino. “That’s it, then. We’ll be off. We’d like you to come to the store with us tomorrow morning to see if there’s anything missing. We will be pursuing various lines of enquiry.”
    “You do that,” I said in as authoritative a manner as I could muster. Then I just hung in until the two had left before bursting into tears. Moira was horrified, of course. She thought they’d been badgering me, and maybe they had. I couldn’t tell her though.
    Lizard. It was the man I’d rather facetiously called Lizard, the man who had dueled it out with my ex-husband for a jade snuff bottle at Molesworth & Cox.
    Dead, burned, in my store. Was it another of Clive’s little pranks that had gone very wrong? Had he sent someone to steal the snuff bottle? He’d been prepared to pay enough for it. Top price, actually, and I’d refused. Lizard had wanted the box too, very, very badly. But if he’d broken into the shop, how had he been killed? Not by Alex. Even leaving aside the fact that he would never do such a thing, Alex was barely conscious. So who else was there?
    More to the point, what had I done? Rather than helping the police with their investigation, I’d actually lied about knowing Lizard. Now what?
    I called my lawyer. She was vacationing on Maui for a week.
    I called Rob Luczka. “Answer the phone,” I ordered, as it rang and rang. I knew he and Barbara had been in Montreal visiting her sister, but I was praying they’d returned.
    “Hello,” he said at last.
    “You’re home,” I said, relieved.
    “Just got in,” he said. “What’s up?”
    “ T really need your help. The most awful thing has happened.” I started to tell him about Alex, the body, and the fire.
    “I’ll be right there,” he said, interrupting me. I heaved a sigh of relief. While Rob and I occasionally seem to inhabit different planets, I consider him to be a friend, and despite the occasional round of bickering from time to time, usually over what I see to be his rather black-and-white view of events, I hope he feels the same about me. It made me feel better knowing he was on his way over.
    Less than half an hour later we were ensconced on my back deck with a pitcher of iced lemon tea. It was a beautiful warm summer evening,