Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [107]
A darker floor spreads out in front of us as we reach the top of a staircase. The silence here is that of a tomb. We’re at the start of a hallway carpeted in a red so deep that it borders on black. It absorbs the sound of our footfalls. The décor is in the minimalist fashion: three paintings and a Renaissance-style sculpture. I try to stay focused on the six doors that open off this hallway—what turn out to be guest rooms—and yet I’m drawn to the sculpture. On closer study, it appears to be a genuine Raphael. Two men embracing each other as a loving father would hold his son. The primary figure is rendered thick, strong and well-muscled, with a long beard. But it’s the secondary figure that most catches the eye, perhaps because it’s grotesque—with half the body malformed, the other half perfect and beautiful. He is being succored, wept over. I can feel the emotion the artist felt as he coaxed it from the stone. It amazes me an object of such priceless value occupies a precarious position in the hallway. One clumsy move and this masterwork could be severely damaged. I reach out to touch the sculpture and have to force my hand back. I release a sigh and turn away and it’s at that instant when another of the statue’s features comes into view. I lean in closer to examine the cloak of the primary figure. It’s easy to miss—near the cloak’s midsection, near the beltline: the oblong S.
Espy doesn’t see it, so I point at the discovery and find that my hand is trembling. We share a look, which is all we can do right now, and then we leave it behind. It’s another piece in a puzzle that’s growing more and more intricate.
We emerge from the hallway onto a balcony overlooking the foyer below. Turning and looking through the windows along the upper wall, I can make out the grounds in the back of the estate. We’re in the narrow portion, where the front and back boundaries are separated by about fifty feet. The bulk of the mansion lies ahead, through a hall identical to the one we have just passed.
We conduct cursory inspections of the guest rooms, then walk through a small antechamber that allows us a choice of continuing through three different archways. I don’t give the matter much consideration before selecting the one on the left. I lose track of time as we search the mansion, and the feeling that we’re alone—that only ghosts occupy the place with us— increases with each passing minute. If Mr. Stemple is the only other living soul here, then everything we’ve done over the last five days has been pointless. Unless we just happen to stumble upon the bones themselves.
Esperanza, who has been walking in silence with me for what has to be forty-five minutes, touches my elbow.
“Jack, there’s no one here.”
I’m inclined to agree when, rounding a corner that I think will take us back to the antechamber, I see a shaft of light coming from a room halfway down the corridor. The door of the room stands partly open. Espy sees the light too and goes silent.
Up to now, I’ve paid little attention to the gun in my hand, mostly pointing it at the floor. Now my hand snaps up and the weapon points straight ahead. Slowly, the two of us close the distance to the light source. Reaching a point where I can risk a peek into the room, I see three upholstered chairs, a fireplace, and the end of a bookcase. Just as I decide to take a step closer to see more, I’m startled by a voice.
“Please come in, Dr. Hawthorne. And bring Ms. Habilla, won’t you?”
CHAPTER 23
There’s no point in keeping the man waiting,” I say to Esperanza with a smile that is half genuine. The bad news is that this meeting will not occur on the terms I would have preferred, but it will happen, and that’s something of a victory. With the gun ready, I walk into the room, Esperanza close behind me.
My first impression of George Manheim is that, unlike the pattern in