Death Through the Looking Glass Read Online Free PDF Page A

sherry or attempting to get some work done on the new book. He went into the study to sit at the desk that overlooked the river below the promontory. His partially completed Danny Dolphin lay at the right of the typewriter, and he absently riffled through the yellow pages.
    Any creativity concerning the playful but wise dolphin seemed far removed from his present state of mind. He poured a pony of sherry. When the phone rang he frowned and reached for the receiver. He knew the content of the call. It would be either Rocco or Chief Barnes confirming Giles’s death. He mumbled an acknowledgment into the phone.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Went? You squiffed?”
    Lyon’s hand shook and he had to clench the phone to still the tremors. “Giles? Tom Giles? Is that you?”
    â€œHell, what did we used to say? No, it’s Yehudi. Of course it’s me.”
    â€œI saw your plane go down. Your Piper with the crazy color scheme. I saw it go down in the sound earlier today.”
    â€œRight now, Went, the damn plane is the least of my worries. If it’s gone, I get the insurance money. Got a problem just a little more important.” The voice on the other end of the line tried to laugh, but the result was hollow and tinged with fear. When Tom continued, his tone was somber and distant. “I’m in trouble, Went. I need help, and I need it desperately.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Lyon fought to sort out his confusion.
    â€œI have good reason to believe someone is trying to kill me.”
    â€œCome over to the house—now.”
    â€œNo. I need someone here. A witness I can trust. Will you come?”
    â€œOf course. Your house?”
    â€œNo, I’m at the lake cottage. Make it fast, Went. Like the old cross shot … faster than that.”
    â€œI’ll get Rocco Herbert to come with me.”
    â€œJesus, not the police! At least not yet. The cottage on Crystal Lake, Went. North side, sixth from the junction. I need to talk with you alone first.”
    The receiver went dead, and Lyon slowly replaced it on the cradle. He felt tired and bewildered. An airplane had crashed and couldn’t be found; its owner called at midnight and said he was going to be killed.… The day wasn’t the shambles he had thought; it had turned into an inscrutable puzzle.

3
    In order to not disturb Bea, he slipped quietly from the house. He released the emergency brake of the Datsun and let the small car roll partly down the drive before turning the ignition key and switching on the lights. At the highway he turned east, toward the outskirts of town.
    At one time the hills surrounding Crystal Lake had been forested, and logs had been rolled into the lake to be floated to a sawmill. After cutting the desirable timber, the company had sold off the building lots in a haphazard manner. Second-growth timber now bracketed a hodgepodge of contemporary split-levels near the head of the lake and fishermen’s shacks and summer cottages along the far sides.
    Lyon turned off at the north junction and began to count to the sixth house. He pulled into a narrow, rutted drive between two pines and parked. The small house, nestled at the edge of the lake, was dark and desolate-looking. He stepped from the car and called out, “Tom! Tom Giles. You here?”
    His voice faded into the pines. The front door was locked; as he walked along the side of the house, he found steps that entered onto a redwood deck that protruded out over the water. The double glass door leading off the deck was also locked.
    The discovery of a securely locked house as the final event of the last eighteen hours made him consider the possibility that he was the victim of a massive practical joke. The probability that Tom Giles would go to this extreme seemed remote, just as the near-hysterical phone call seemed out of character for the boisterous attorney. He began to try windows along the edge of the house, and on the