The Night Visitor Read Online Free PDF Page B

Having a dram of thirty-year-old or the very rare thirty-three-year-old Springbank is something to dream about.”
    “Goes down easier than a Hollywood Boulevard whore,” Richie said.
    Tom poured two fingers into a cut crystal glass. “No Old Tank Car Number Nine in your private bar, Richard?”

    “Ha. Good one, Tom. That’s what I buy for the cook to drink, after I’ve put a Macallan label on it,” Richard said with a wink. “We’re planning another trip to Scotland. You’ll have to join us.”
    “Tom, you’re in entertainment law, right?” Leland asked.
    Using tongs, Tom took a single cube of ice from a bucket and dropped it into his glass. “Mostly.” He began looking at the guns in the cabinet. “A little corporate work too.” He set down his glass, shouldered a shotgun, and looked down the barrel. “Richard, what’s the effective range on this?”
    “Not far. Twenty-five yards, controlled. Mossberg 500. That’s an up-close-and-personal weapon. Bought that for the household. It’s something Evelyn or the help can handle if there’s an intruder.”
    Tom took a handgun from the cabinet. He measured its weight in his palm.
    “That’s not something you see every day,” Richard said. “Para-Ordnance match pistol. That’s my baby. Had it customized for my handgrip. It’s perfectly balanced.”
    “Beautiful weapon.” Tom aimed the gun at different targets beyond the French doors. “So, what can you do with this?”
    “What can I do with that?” Richard rubbed his chin. “I can hit a mouse between the eyes at fifty yards with that.”
    “Oh yeah?” Tom returned the gun to its spot in the cabinet. “Big talk, my friend.”
    “Let’s go out to the range one day.”
    “Sure.”

    “Piece of advice,” Leland said. “Don’t bet against him.”
    The tower bells started ringing.
    “Well, men.” Richard finished his drink and stood. He took his tuxedo jacket from a stand and put it on. “Duty calls.”

10
    Tom looked for Rory in the upper garden. Guests milled around, locating their tables. The band was playing the monster hit single of the summer and doing a great job with it. People were dancing on a parquet floor at the base of the stage, including several adorable children who were twirling to the music. Waiters cleared small plates and stemware. Many glasses were nearly full, set down and forgotten, a fresh drink readily available.
    Tom tried to see through the forest of elaborate centerpieces, each one fashioned from a top hat, a pair of white gloves, and a black walking stick entwined with vines and pink flowers. He looked up at a large screen beside the stage just as a candid snapshot of Anya appeared among the photos of people of all ages and walks of life being projected in a continuous loop. He saw Evelyn and her daughter - in - law, Paige, at the head table but no Rory. He spotted Evelyn’s assistant, Graehme, and walked over, interrupting him as he rattled instructions into his cell phone headset.
    “Graehme, have you seen Rory?”
    “I’d like to see Rory.” He was in his late twenties and rotund. “She’s supposed to make the opening remarks in…” A shock of straight blond hair fell over his intense eyes when he bent his head to look at the face of his cell phone. He flicked his head, sending his hair back into place. “Eight minutes. If you find her, would you please tell her to get her little butt out here, pronto?”
    Tom jogged into the house and ducked under the velvet rope that blocked off the living quarters, sprinting past a security guard who recognized him.

    Knocking sharply on the powder room door, Tom elicited the outrage of a woman inside who was not Rory. At the end of the hall, in the library that Evelyn had renamed the Firenze Room in keeping with her Tuscan-themed remodel of the villa, he spotted Rory facing windows that overlooked the party, her back to the door. He approached her.
    “Ro?”
    She didn’t turn around. She was holding on to the