Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

THE CURSE OF THE OBELISK 23
CHAPTER 6
Jennie sat, hands in her lap, gazing out the window of her small hotel room. The midday sky
was growing increasingly grey. "My room is quite a bit smaller than yours," she mentioned. "Must
be difficult for you, since you're in the mood to pace."
"I don't enjoy posh hotels and ritzy suites. That's my father's idea, says it keeps up the image
and reputation of the Challenge International Detective Agency." Skirting her brass bed, Harry
paced along the edge of the Persian rug. "Wish I had Lorenzo's gift of second sight, then I'd know
where the hell he is." He tugged out his pocket watch again.
"He really does have some sort of unusual power," said the reporter. "I've exposed a lot of
bunco artists and fake mediums, but he's authentic. Coming to the museum the way he did last
night, simply getting off his train and rushing to Paris."
"Sure, he's got a gift." Harry frowned at his watch before returning it to his pocket. "He's also
fairly shrewd. Sometimes he can con you into thinking a lucky guess is a mystical message from
beyond."
The sky continued to darken; a wind rattled the windows.
Jennie said, "This plan you've worked out for getting inside Max Orchardson's lair is—"
"We've worked out," he corrected. "You were in on the—"
"As a bystander mostly. You and Lorenzo outvoted me every time I attempted to express a little
reasonable doubt as—"
"That's the essence of democracy. The will of the majority is—"
"Well, this representative of the minority is going to be just as dead as you two hooligans
should this crack-brained—"
"Audacious. Our scheme is audacious, not crack-brained."
Standing, she faced him. "I don't want any of us to get hurt. No newspaper story is that
important, no detective investigation either."
"This is a different Jennie Barr," he said, grinning. "You were claiming only yesterday that
getting the story for the New York Daily Inquirer was more important than—"
"Could you let up a bit, Harry. I wasn't exactly myself yesterday and I'm feeling low enough
without your—"
"Okay, sorry." He crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "We'll all come out of this
all right."
"You're concerned about Lorenzo already, though, aren't you? Because he's late."
"He's only . . ." Harry let go of her to pull out his watch. "Damn, nearly a half hour late."
"Keep in mind he's a very romantic soul. This is spring and we're in Paris."
"I suppose he might've made a stop to see that lady with the cork leg." He glanced at the door.
"He usually doesn't dally when he's helping out on something like this, though."
"Where was he going to pick up the costumes and all?"