The Lost Years Read Online Free PDF

realized she was only trying to warn him away.
    Now, looking at the pain in her deep blue eyes and the way the afternoon sun was picking up the highlights in her shoulder-length hair, Greg wanted to tell her that he was still in love with her and would go to hell and back for her. Instead he said, “I’ll give you a call next week to see how your mother is doing.”
    “That would be nice.”
    He held the door for her as she stepped into the limo, then reluctantly closed it behind her. He watched, not knowing that he wasalso being observed, as the car slowly made its way around the circular driveway.
    Richard Callahan was in the group of departing guests who had formed a line to retrieve their cars. He had seen the expression on Greg’s face brighten whenever Mariah came home for one of Jonathan’s dinners, but he also sensed that she had no interest in Greg. Of course things could change now with her father gone, he thought. She might be more receptive to a guy who could, and would, do anything for her.
    Especially, Richard thought as the valet brought his eight-year-old Volkswagen to the curb, if any of that gossip I heard at the table is true. From what I gathered, that caregiver has had too much to say to the neighbors about how angry Kathleen becomes when she gets on the subject of Jon’s relationship with Lily. There was no need for Rory to tell them about Lily. It was none of their—or Rory’s—business.
    Kathleen was alone with Jonathan the night he was shot. Mariah has to know that her mother may be a suspect in his death, he thought. Those detectives are going to call Lily and Greg and Albert and Charles and me and arrange private meetings with all of us. What are we supposed to tell them? They certainly must know by now that Lily and Jonathan were involved with each other, and that Kathleen was terribly upset about it.
    Richard tipped the valet and got into his car. For a moment he was tempted to stop and see how Kathleen and Mariah were doing, but then he reasoned that they both might be better off left alone for a while. As he started to drive home, his thoughts were of the shocked expression he had seen on Mariah’s face when Father Aiden was talking to her just before the luncheon ended.
    What did Father Aiden tell her? he wondered. And now that the funeral’s over, will those detectives be zeroing in on the fact that there is no explanation for Jonathan’s death other than that Kathleen pulled that trigger Monday night?

7
     

     
    C harles Michaelson and Albert West had driven together from Manhattan to pay their respects to their old friend and colleague Jonathan Lyons. Both men were experts in the study of ancient parchments. But the resemblance between them ended there. Michaelson, impatient by nature, had a permanent frown in the creases of his forehead. Added to that, his imposing girth was enough to strike fear in the hearts of unprepared students. Sarcastic to the point of cruelty, he had reduced many PhD candidates to tears during their defense of doctoral theses they had submitted to him.
    Albert West was small and thin. His students joked that his tie brushed against his shoelaces. His voice, surprisingly strong and always passionate, captivated his listeners when, in his lectures, he introduced them to the wonders of ancient history.
    Michaelson had long been divorced. After twenty years his irascible temper became too much for his wife and she left him. If that event caused him any heartache, he never showed it.
    West was a lifelong bachelor. An avid sportsman, he enjoyed hiking in the spring and summer and skiing in the late fall and winter. As often as possible he spent his weekends on one of those activities.
    The relationship between the two men was the same one they had shared with Jonathan Lyons—it was based on their passion for ancient manuscripts.
    Albert West had been trying to decide if he should share with Michaelson the call he had received from Jonathan Lyons a week and a