| what this is all about? You don’t believe there’s any connection between that heroin and those girls any more than I do.” “Why don’t I? It’s a very expensive connection.” “Because if you did, you’d have them down here and booked. Precisely because it is expensive. You’re handling the entire situation in a very unorthodox manner. “Yes, I am.” Fowler walked around his desk and sat down. “And you’re right, I don’t believe there’s a connection. On the other hand, I can’t dismiss it. Circumstantially, it’s explosive; I don’t have to tell you that.” “What are you going to do?” “This’ll surprise you, but I may be guided by your attorney.” “Which reinforces my statement.” “Yes, it does. I don’t think we’re on opposite sides, but I’ve got problems. We’ve got the evidence; I certainly can’t ignore it. On the other hand, the manner of our getting it raises questions. I can’t legally hang it on the kids-not considering everything… “ “I’d have you in court on false arrest. That could be expensive.” “Oh, come on, Mr. Trevayne. Don’t threaten. Legally, those girls, including your daughter, admitted using marijuana. That’s against the law. But it’s minor, and we wouldn’t press it. The other is something else. Greenwich doesn’t want that kind of publicity; and a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of uncut heroin is a lot of publicity. We don’t want a Darien here.” Trevayne saw that Fowler was sincere. It was a problem. It was also insane. Why would |
the back lawn. On the wall 290 Robert Ludlum by the door were several ornate coat hooks, a woolen muffler hanging from one of them. He reached for it and wrapped it around his neck. “I am an old woman; I need my shawl. You are young; the cold air will be invigorating. The snow beneath your feet won’t hurt good leather. I know. When I was a child in the Stuttgart winters, my shoe leather was ersatz. My feet were always cold.” He opened the door and led Trevayne out on the snow-covered grass. They walked to the far end of the lawn, past burlap-covered bushes and a marble table which stood in front of a white latticed arbor. Summer tea, thought Trevayne. They went just beyond the arbor to the edge of a tall Japanese maple and turned right. This section of the lawn was narrow, bordered by the maple and a row of evergreens on the other side. It was actually a wide path. The flickering immediately caught Trevayne’s eye. At the end of the wooded corridor was a bronze Star of David raised perhaps a foot above the ground. It measured no larger than twenty or twenty-five inches, and on each side there was a small recessed casing in which a flame burned steadily. It was like a miniature altar protected by fire, the two jets of flame somehow strong and fierce. And very sad. “No tears, Mr. Trevayne. No wringing of hands or mournful wails |
