Mistress - Amanda Quick [142]
“I have only your word that the villains were using my shop as a place to exchange their messages. Frankly, Mr. March, given your rude behavior, I am not inclined to believe a single thing you say.”
He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “Do you deny that this note was hidden in one of your vases?”
She glanced at the damning note. Only moments ago she had watched in stunned amazement while he shattered a lovely Greek vase. A message that looked remarkably like a villain’s report to his criminal employer had been tucked inside. Something about a bargain with pirates having been successfully struck.
Lavinia raised her chin. “It is certainly not my fault that one of my patrons dropped a personal note into that vase.”
“Not just one patron, Mrs. Lake. The villains have been using your shop for some weeks now.”
“And just how would you know that, sir?”
“I have watched these premises and your personal movements for nearly a month.”
She widened her eyes, genuinely shocked by the infuriatingly casual admission.
“You have spent the past month spying on me?”
“At the start of my observations, I assumed that you were an active participant in Carlisle’s ring here in Rome. It was only after much study that I have concluded you probably did not know what some of your so-called customers were about.”
“That is outrageous.”
He gave her a look of mocking inquiry. “Are you saying you did know what they were up to when they came and went in such a regular fashion?”
“I am saying no such thing.” She could hear her voice climbing but there was little she could do about it. She had never been so angry or so frightened in her life. “I believed them to be honest patrons of antiquities.”
“Did you indeed?” Tobias glanced at a collection of cloudy green glass jars that stood in a neat row on a high shelf. His smile was devoid of all warmth. “And how honest are you, Mrs. Lake?”
She stiffened. “What are you implying, sir?”
“I’m not implying anything. I am merely noting that most of the items in this shop are cheap replicas of ancient artifacts. There is very little here that is truly antique.”
“How do you know?” she shot back. “Never say you are an expert in antiquities, sir. I will not be taken in by such an outlandish claim. You cannot pass yourself off as a scholarly researcher, not after what you have done to my establishment.”
“You are correct, Mrs. Lake. I am not an expert in Greek and Roman antiquities. I am a simple man of business.”
“Rubbish. Why would a simple man of business come all the way to Rome in pursuit of a villain named Carlisle?”
“I am here on behalf of one of my clients who employed me to make inquiries into the fate of a man named Bennett Ruckland.”
“What was the fate of this Mr. Ruckland?”
Tobias looked at her. “He was murdered here in Rome. My client believes it was because he learned too much concerning the secret organization that Carlisle controls.”
“A likely story.”
“Nevertheless, it is my story and mine is the only tale that matters tonight.” He hurled another pot to the floor. “You have only ten minutes left, Mrs. Lake.”
It was hopeless. Lavinia took two fistfuls of her skirts and started up the stairs. But she paused midway as a thought struck her.
“This business of making inquiries into murders on behalf of your clients—it seems a rather odd sort of profession,” she said.
He smashed a small Roman oil lamp. “No more odd than selling false antiquities.”
Lavinia was incensed. “I told you, they are not false, sir. They are reproductions designed to be purchased as souvenirs.”
“Call them what you wish. They look remarkably like fraudulent imitations to me.”
She smiled thinly. “But as you just said, sir, you are no expert in rare artifacts, are you? You are merely a simple man of business.”
“You have approximately eight minutes left, Mrs. Lake.”
She touched the silver pendant she wore at her throat the way she often did when her nerves were under a great strain. “I cannot decide