Framed Read Online Free PDF Page B

nerves, and he thought, "Come on, come on, look this way, let me see your eyes, come on . . ."The man flicked looks around the crowded gallery, but had still not turned full face toward Larry. He saw someone smile, say something and Larry craned forward, heard the deep voice, and then a soft laugh, but still he could not be one hundred percent sure, yet everything inside him willed this handsome, elegant man to be Myers. Then, at last, he turned, although still not looking directly at Larry, but to someone just past Larry's left shoulder, and at last he saw the eyes. They were not as dark or as black as he remembered, in fact they were much clearer, were they blue? Larry's breath caught in his throat. Was he wrong? Could he be mistaken? And still he stared intently as the man kept up a slow, steady appraisal of
room. He gradually moved further into the throng of people, and Larry became a bit edgy in case, just in case it was Myers and he would recognize him, and then it happened, somebody said something to him and Larry saw the dark head lower, as if listening to the woman who was pointing out a painting; he seemed to give the woman his total attention, but his eyes roamed the room, they weren't blue, but dark green, and then the man calling himself Philip Von Joel threw back his head and laughed.
It was him! It was Eddie Myers! No mistake, no question of error! The laugh had given him away.
Larry prepared to turn sharply aside, now even more afraid that he might be recognized, and his whole body was shaking with nerves. Von Joel looked as if he was about to walk directly toward Larry, when Charlotte stepped close to him and whispered something in his ear. Von Joel's face tightened with a fleeting moment of anger, then that fixed smile returned as he looked across the gallery at a group of paintings, each with a red dot beside it. Charlotte moved back to discuss a purchase as the pretty Spanish girl, Lola, draped herself around Von Joel's shoulder, standing on tiptoe to kiss his neck.
Larry slipped back, using the crowd for cover, keeping his eyes on Von Joel. Lola moved away. Von Joel turned in Larry's direction and almost stepped up against him. He put his empty glass on the wine table and squared his shoulders, preparing to circulate, then moved off to the opposite side of the room.
Larry put his back to the crowd and whipped out his handkerchief. Draping it over his fingers he used it to pick up Von Joel's glass. Susan appeared at her side.
"What are you doing?"
He nearly dropped the glass.
"Shut up!" he snapped.
He turned around sharply, the glass covered, ready to go in his pocket. Susan, no longer entirely sober, continued to gape at him.
"What do you think you're doing, Larry?"
He felt like belting her. Instead he dropped the glass into his pocket and simultaneously started moving to the door. Susan came after him, whining all the way.
Outside he began to move faster, throwing back terse answers to her questions.
"You're sending the glass to London? Is that what you're saying? Larry? Will you listen to me?"
"I'm not sending the glass. I don't have to. It's got his prints on it, they'll lift them here, then send them to London."
"I don't believe you!" Susan yelped. "It's bloody stupid!"
Larry glanced around as a car swept past them. It was Von Joel's Corniche. He was at the wheel, with Charlotte and Lola sitting in the back. He was laughing at something.
"It's him," Larry grunted. "He's had his face done, but that's Eddie Myers, all right. Same voice. Same laugh."
"They'll be laughing at you\" Susan told him bitterly, trying to catch up.

f

Comisario Dominguez made an imposing police officer. He was heavy in the shoulders and chest, tawny and hirsute, the kind of man born not simply to be a policeman, but to be a senior policeman. His physical presence was modified by slow, careful movements and an obvious thoughtful streak. For an entire minute after examining the official files on Philip Von Joel, he sat staring at