Countdown - Iris Johansen [25]
“Screw your inquisitive nature.”
“I’ve heard that before, and not from such exceptionally attractive lips.” He paused. “And you’ve had a rough time, according to Trevor. You deserve not to have to put up with bastards like me.”
“I agree.”
He chuckled. “Okay, then why not call a truce?”
“I’m not at war with you. You don’t mean anything to me.”
“You mean something to me. I’ve lived with you at MacDuff’s Run since Trevor leased it.”
“What?”
“Well, not you. Cira’s statue. But the resemblance is remarkable.”
“It’s only a resemblance. That’s not me.”
“Okay. Okay. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re a bit sensitive on that score, aren’t you?”
“You’re damn right I am. I have a right to be. Or maybe your ‘research’ didn’t delve that deep. What did you find out about me and Cira?”
“From the newspaper stories on the Internet? That a serial killer was murdering and mutilating every woman he could find who resembled the statue of an actress who was the toast of Herculaneum at the time of the Vesuvius eruption. That he thought you were the reincarnation of Cira and targeted you. The rest was pretty much about how he was trapped and killed.” He paused. “And I was amazed how few photos there were of you in the stories. I was wondering how your family managed to keep the spotlight on Cira and made you fade into the background.”
“They did their best. Eve and Joe are very smart, but the first year was pretty rough for me.” She smiled sardonically. “But, as you put it, after that I was yesterday’s news. Thank God.” She returned to something he’d said earlier. “Trevor keeps his statue of Cira at this MacDuff’s Run? Is that in Scotland?”
Brenner nodded. “Oh, yes. The statue’s a truly splendid work of art. Even a rough-and-ready bloke like me can appreciate it. I can see why Trevor had to have it.”
“Enough to negotiate with a collector who’d bought it illegally to get it,” she said dryly. “And I’m not sure that he wanted it for its artistic value. He’s like the rest of you. He has an obsession with Cira.”
“The woman with your face.” He smiled faintly. “An interesting connection.”
“No connection. She’s been dead two thousand years and I’m very much alive. Why did he send you to Naples instead of going himself?”
“It was a little too hot for him.”
“The Italian police? They found the tunnel where Trevor discovered those scrolls?”
Brenner shook his head. “No, evidently he’d camouflaged the entrance too well, but there was a leak by a scholar Trevor was using to translate the scrolls. He was trying to sell them to the highest bidder, and before Trevor found out and yanked the scrolls away from him he’d talked a little too much to the wrong people. Evidently the gold was mentioned prominently in the scrolls.”
“Yes, that’s what Trevor told me. Who were these ‘wrong’ people?”
“Trevor’s made a lot of enemies over the years,” he said evasively. “I’m sure he’ll discuss it with you.”
“But you’re not going to do it.”
“Not at the moment. I’ve got to leave something for Trevor. After all these years you’re probably going to have ghastly conversation gaps.” He got to his feet. “And perhaps I’d better go and relieve him before you convince me to bare all.”
“I didn’t convince you of anything. You told me exactly what you wanted to tell me. What you wanted me to know. What Trevor wanted me to know. Isn’t that right?”
He grinned. “Well, Trevor didn’t want me to tell you that I had a crush on Cira. He thought you’d not be pleased.”
“Why should you be different?” she said wearily. “Evidently she was the femme fatale of the ancient world. I suppose you read some of the translations describing her?”
“Racy. Very racy. It seems she was as talented in bed as she was on the stage.”
“That doesn’t mean she was a prostitute. She was born a slave and she did what she had to do to survive.”
“A moment ago you were very adamant that you’re nothing like her. Now you’re defending her.”
“Of course I’m defending her. She couldn’t help the fact that she was born in a world where sex was one of the only weapons