Mister Rosen, please?”
He handed over the phone and listened while Mr. Rosen talked about Carnival
Glass, then moved the conversation to the “artifact” he and Weezy had found.
“You say you’l be around tomorrow morning?” he said into the phone, then
pointed to Jack, who nodded vigorously.
Yeah, they could make it.
“Fine. I’l send them over around ten o’clock.”
Yes! Now they’d get some answers.
He hoped.
7
Jack kept a careful watch for his brother as he sat at the kitchen counter and shel ed his pistachios. He had a pile of sixteen. Four to go. No sign of Tom,
but he had this strange sensation of being watched. He looked around and saw no one. Was he getting paranoid?
Mom had
outstanding.
He was thinking about the meeting with this professor tomorrow, and about what he might say, when he knocked half a dozen unshel ed pistachios off
the counter. As he squatted to gather them up he saw a shadow swoop by. Before he could react, Tom had scooped up the shel ed pistachios and tossed
them into his mouth. Without breaking stride or even looking around, he hit the back door and was outside before Jack could get over his shock and
react.
Rage blazed. He looked at the cutlery drawer and imagined himself grabbing one of the Ginsu knives his father had bought from the TV last year and
chasing after Tom. But what would he do when he caught him—cut off his hands?
Nice fantasy, but …
Calming himself, Jack sat and stared at the spot where his pistachios had sat. How’d that expression go?
Yeah, he thought. Shame on me for leaving those out there. But that didn’t mean Tom wasn’t due a little payback.
He was calm now, calm enough to remember another old saying:
Cold … he’d have to think on this.
Relax, Tom. Enjoy the moment. Rest easy that you’re home free. But your time is coming. Soon you’re going to regret messing with me.
Kate rushed into the room then, with Mom and Dad close behind.
“Jack, they’ve identified the body you found!”
He held his breath.
Dad said, “Anyone we know?”
Mom’s hands folded under her chin. “It’s not that Kurek girl, is it?”
“No. Dental records identified him as Anton Boruff, a jeweler from Mount Hol y who disappeared two years ago. It’l be in the papers tomorrow.” She
lowered her voice. “But what won’t be in the papers is that the police have suspected him of being a fugitive.”
“Real y?” Jack said. This was getting better and better. “From the law?”
Kate nodded. “Seemed he’d been ripping people off, sel ing fake diamonds as investment grade. The police thought he’d absconded with the money,
but I guess one of his victims got to him before he made his getaway.”
“At least he’s not a local,” Mom said. “I mean, it’s a shame he’s dead, of course, rest his soul. Just that I was afraid it was someone we knew. The
thought of having a kil er among us …” She shuddered. “But if he’s from Mount Hol y—”
“Wel ,” Kate said, “he must have been in and out of here a lot because he was some sort of pooh-bah in the Lodge.”
“Oh, dear,” Mom said. “I’ve never liked those people. They’re so sneaky. I wish they’d find someplace else to meet.”
Everybody cal ed it simply “the Lodge” but Jack had heard it was a branch of something cal ed the Ancient Septimus Fraternal Order. The Lodge
