shop waitress from Second Chance Springs had been nothing more than a brief fling at the end of his freshman year. Jesus, he'd only been nineteen years old.
He had transferred to an East Coast college the following fall and never looked back. He had made certain to leave no forwarding address at the coffee shop.
Damn. He could not even remember her name, let alone what she had looked like.
Five
« ^ »
C yrus dropped his duffel bag and two of Eugenia's expensive-looking red leather suitcases onto the front steps of Glass House. He eyed the massive, stainless steel doors that guarded the structure.
Glass House was well named, he thought. It was all bright, reflective surfaces and see-through walls. Heavy glass blocks formed a frame for the gleaming doors. Beyond the doors the house was mostly walls of thick, double-paned glass that revealed the building's steel skeleton. There was one solid portion that ran the length of one side of the third story. A veranda with clear acrylic panels wrapped the lower story.
Glass House was perched on an isolated bluff at the far end of Frog Cove Island. The exotic architecture should have resulted in a light and airy appearance, Cyrus thought. He wondered why it didn't look like a big, gossamer-winged butterfly sitting here overlooking the Sound. What it actually resembled was a large, squat beetle armored in a glass carapace.
He studied the electronic code box next to the door. "Daventry believed in top-of-the-line security."
"Not surprising." Eugenia set her red leather garment bag and red leather cosmetic case down beside the rest of the matched set of luggage. "He had a fortune in glass to protect."
"I can see a lock like this in the city, but it seems a little extreme for Frog Cove Island. It's not like they've got a crime problem around here. I checked. Last major event was a boat stolen out of the marina. That happened eight years ago."
"I should think you would appreciate expensive security systems." She glanced around at the looming trees. "I wonder where the caretaker is. He was supposed to be here to meet us and let us inside."
"Maybe he went into Frog Cove to pick up groceries or something."
"No problem." Eugenia opened the flap of her sleek leather shoulder bag. "I've got the code."
He took the piece of paper from her and glanced at it. Written in bold, flowing handwriting, which could only have been Eugenia's, was a string of numbers and the words Daventry house security code .
He cleared his throat politely. "Anyone ever point out that it's generally not a good idea to carry around a key code that's clearly labeled like this? Someone steals your purse, he's got instant access."
She smiled a little too brightly. "More free advice?"
"Forget it." He turned to punch in the code. "You knew Daventry, right?"
"We met." Her voice was suddenly very cool.
"Ever been here to Glass House?"
"No." She hesitated. "What made you ask?"
"I heard he liked to throw big parties. Invited the local art crowd and some off-island friends from the art world. Just wondered if you'd ever been one of his guests."
"No, I was never one of his guests, and I resent the interrogation."
"Just curious." He watched the green light wink on in the code box. There was a series of clicks as the lock disengaged. "Daventry's last lover was someone who used to work at the Leabrook. Her name was Nellie Grant."
"My, my. You have done some homework."
"Did you know her well?"
"I knew her, yes."
Her brittle tone brought all of his instincts to full rev. He pushed open one of the twin steel doors. "See much of her after she came out here to stay with Daventry?"
"No, I did not. She died the day after Daventry did. Washed overboard on her way back here to the island." Eugenia hoisted her garment bag and cosmetic case and prepared to step past him. "Don't waste your breath on any further questions, Colfax. You can't put me down in your notebook as a contact to prove how industrious you were to your
He had transferred to an East Coast college the following fall and never looked back. He had made certain to leave no forwarding address at the coffee shop.
Damn. He could not even remember her name, let alone what she had looked like.
Five
« ^ »
C yrus dropped his duffel bag and two of Eugenia's expensive-looking red leather suitcases onto the front steps of Glass House. He eyed the massive, stainless steel doors that guarded the structure.
Glass House was well named, he thought. It was all bright, reflective surfaces and see-through walls. Heavy glass blocks formed a frame for the gleaming doors. Beyond the doors the house was mostly walls of thick, double-paned glass that revealed the building's steel skeleton. There was one solid portion that ran the length of one side of the third story. A veranda with clear acrylic panels wrapped the lower story.
Glass House was perched on an isolated bluff at the far end of Frog Cove Island. The exotic architecture should have resulted in a light and airy appearance, Cyrus thought. He wondered why it didn't look like a big, gossamer-winged butterfly sitting here overlooking the Sound. What it actually resembled was a large, squat beetle armored in a glass carapace.
He studied the electronic code box next to the door. "Daventry believed in top-of-the-line security."
"Not surprising." Eugenia set her red leather garment bag and red leather cosmetic case down beside the rest of the matched set of luggage. "He had a fortune in glass to protect."
"I can see a lock like this in the city, but it seems a little extreme for Frog Cove Island. It's not like they've got a crime problem around here. I checked. Last major event was a boat stolen out of the marina. That happened eight years ago."
"I should think you would appreciate expensive security systems." She glanced around at the looming trees. "I wonder where the caretaker is. He was supposed to be here to meet us and let us inside."
"Maybe he went into Frog Cove to pick up groceries or something."
"No problem." Eugenia opened the flap of her sleek leather shoulder bag. "I've got the code."
He took the piece of paper from her and glanced at it. Written in bold, flowing handwriting, which could only have been Eugenia's, was a string of numbers and the words Daventry house security code .
He cleared his throat politely. "Anyone ever point out that it's generally not a good idea to carry around a key code that's clearly labeled like this? Someone steals your purse, he's got instant access."
She smiled a little too brightly. "More free advice?"
"Forget it." He turned to punch in the code. "You knew Daventry, right?"
"We met." Her voice was suddenly very cool.
"Ever been here to Glass House?"
"No." She hesitated. "What made you ask?"
"I heard he liked to throw big parties. Invited the local art crowd and some off-island friends from the art world. Just wondered if you'd ever been one of his guests."
"No, I was never one of his guests, and I resent the interrogation."
"Just curious." He watched the green light wink on in the code box. There was a series of clicks as the lock disengaged. "Daventry's last lover was someone who used to work at the Leabrook. Her name was Nellie Grant."
"My, my. You have done some homework."
"Did you know her well?"
"I knew her, yes."
Her brittle tone brought all of his instincts to full rev. He pushed open one of the twin steel doors. "See much of her after she came out here to stay with Daventry?"
"No, I did not. She died the day after Daventry did. Washed overboard on her way back here to the island." Eugenia hoisted her garment bag and cosmetic case and prepared to step past him. "Don't waste your breath on any further questions, Colfax. You can't put me down in your notebook as a contact to prove how industrious you were to your
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