Lady Sativa Read Online Free PDF Page B

voice sounded unnaturally loud. He shivered in the damp wind.
    The door opened and the slash of light released seemed to provide a sudden wave of warmth. A pointed, balding head peered turtlelike from around the door.
    Sybelle’s hand fluttered to her face. “Is Dr. Bestman at home?” she stammered in confusion.
    The head receded and the door opened wider. A short man, who resembled a truculent reptile, stood at the threshold. His bullet head was supported by a thin, lined neck that moved back and forth between his narrow shoulders as he looked at them.
    “Who are you please?” he asked in a voice much too deep for his size, suggesting that his chest was hollow to allow his head to retract. Even his nubby green suit seemed reptilian in pattern.
    “Sybelle Lean and Dr. Orient,” she said, somewhat flustered. “Is Carl at home?”
    The man stepped back from the door. “Come in, please. You’ve been expected. I’m Mr. Neilson, Dr. Bestman’s attorney.”
    Orient followed Sybelle inside a long wood-paneled hall.
    “I’m sorry,” the little man began, “there’s been a change....”
    A door opened at the end of the hall and a female voice called out. Orient looked up and saw a pale woman in a long black dress coming toward them.
    “Sybelle,” the woman called out. “I’m so glad you’re here.” A tall man followed her through the door.
    “... you see Miss Lean, Carl Bestman was buried this morning,” Neilson was saying.
    Orient heard something fall. The box had slipped out of Sybelle’s hands and spilled its contents on the carpet.
    The woman rushed up to embrace Sybelle. “Carl is dead,” she wailed softly. “Oh, Sybelle, he’s gone.”
    Orient looked at the man who came behind her. He was much taller than Neilson and his hard-set triangular face was set off by thick eyebrows that angled beneath the shock of white hair on his wide forehead.
    The face seemed to separate from the man’s body and come crashing against Orient’s memory. He had seen it recently.
    It was the same looming face that had disturbed his meditative trance, weeks before.
    “It happened two days ago,” the face was saying.
     
     

 
     
    3
     
     
    Orient ran his tongue across his dry lips and took a deep breath.
    Neilson edged closer. “You must forgive us doctor,” he boomed. “It’s been a shock for us all.” He took Orient’s arm. “Allow me to present Count Germaine of Amsterdam.”
    The tall man bowed.
    Orient recovered his scattered presence of mine sufficiently to return the bow.
    “I had hoped to meet you under happier auspices,” the count said, his voice low and melodious.
    Orient glanced at the woman who was pressing her tear-streaked face against Sybelle’s shoulder. “Please accept my regrets.”
    Neilson’s balding, mottled head wagged back and forth. “A shock for us all,” he repeated. “Very sudden.’
    A robust man holding a cigar in front of him like a direction finder came into the hallway and hurried to join the two women.
    “Come now, Hannah,” he soothed as he gently tool her arm from around Sybelle’s neck.
    Hannah stepped back from Sybelle and pulled her arm free. “Please don’t touch me, Tony!” she snapped.
    The man glowered at her then turned abruptly and fixed his glare on Neilson. His small, dark eyes glinted from deep inside his fleshy face. His bristling mustache gave his mouth a fierce, tenacious curve. “I won’t have this disturbance at this time,” he warned.
    Neilson folded his arms and pulled his head closer to his chest. “I’m only going according to Carl’s own wishes.” There was a note of flinty stubbornness in has slow, deliberate words.
    The man looked at Orient and Germaine. “Can’t you people see Mrs. Bestman is under a great strain?”
    “Please leave my husband’s guests alone, Tony,” Hannah said softly. “It’s you who are unwelcome here.”
    Anthony Bestman stabbed the air with his cigar. “You’re talking nonsense, Hannah.”
    Hannah