Page List


Font:  

“Excellent! Disguised as mechanicians, a small squad can stick close by, working on her flying machine-”

“And set me loose on Frost.”

Van Dorn heard the harsh note in Bell’s voice. He shot an inquiring glance at him. Seen in profile, as he maneuvered the big auto through heavy traffic, his chief investigator’s hawk nose and set jaw looked to be chiseled from steel.

“Can you keep a clear head?”

“Of course.”

“He bested you last time, Isaac.”

Bell returned a wintery smile. “He bested a lot of detectives older than I was back then. Including you, Joe.”

“Promise to keep that in mind, and you can have the job.”

Bell let go of the shifter and reached across the Locomobile’s gasoline tank to envelop the boss’s big hand in his. “You have my word.”

3

“MAULED BY A BEAR,” said North River town constable John Hodge, as Isaac Bell’s eyes roamed inquiringly over his scarred face, withered arm, and wooden leg. “Used to be a guide, taking the sports hunting and fishing. When the bear got done, I was only fit for police work.”

“How did the bear make out?” asked Bell.

The constable grinned.

“Winter nights, I sleep warm as toast under his skin. Civil of you to ask – most people won’t even look me in the face. Welcome to the North Country, Mr. Bell. What can I do for you?”

“Why do you suppose they never recovered Marco Celere’s body?”

“Same reason we never find any body that falls in that gorge. It’s a long way down to the bottom, the river’s swift and deep, and there’s plenty of hungry animals, from wolverine to pike. They fall in the North, they’re gone, mister.”

“Were you surprised when you heard that Harry Frost shot Celere?”

“I was.”

“Why? I understand Frost was known to be a violent man. Long before he was sent up for murdering his chauffeur.”

“Early the same morning that Mrs. Frost’s butler reported the shooting, Mr. Frost had already filed a complaint that his rifle had been stolen.”

“Do you think he owned another?”

“He said that one was his favorite.”

 

; “Do you think he reported it falsely, to throw off suspicion?”

“Don’t know.”

“Was the rifle ever found?”

“Boys playing on the railroad tracks found it.”

“When?”

“That same afternoon.”

“Do you suppose Frost might have dropped it if he hopped a freight train to escape?”


Tags: Clive Cussler Isaac Bell Thriller