Free The Malaspiga Exit by Evelyn Anthony Page B

who runs it is Taylor. E. Taylor. I saw it in his address book this afternoon. I was alone in the library looking at some family papers and I found it when I searched his desk.’
    â€˜Aah,’ Raphael whistled. ‘That could be very interesting.’
    â€˜There were other antique shops in the book—all over Europe and one in Beirut. A mass of personal entries, but mostly princes and counts. I set a bug and a recorder in the library and I’ll be going back again in a day or so, and I can get it.’
    â€˜You’ve been very enterprising for someone who’s so new,’ he said. ‘Congratulations.’
    â€˜But perhaps the most important thing I discovered was that both the Duke and his wife went to America about seven years ago. They stayed in Hollywood with a film star called John Julius. Can you remember all this?’
    â€˜No,’ he said. ‘But I don’t have to; I have a recorder in my pocket which is taking down everything you say. That way, there won’t be any mistakes.’
    â€˜Will you pass this on to New York as soon as you can? They can investigate the antique shop and this film star. Some of those Hollywood people are pretty degenerate. There could be a drug connection there.’
    â€˜There could,’ he said. ‘But my guess is that the antique shop will turn out to be the most important. It’s the most wonderful cover for smuggling. Think of it—think how much heroin could be hidden in one piece of furniture!’
    â€˜My God,’ Katharine whispered. ‘Of course. I didn’t think of that.’
    â€˜Cars are the usual means of transporting large quantities. It’s impossible to check on everyone who travels with a car. I ran a check on one of Malaspiga’s exports to Paris, but we found nothing.’
    â€˜Did they know?’
    â€˜No. It was done in the Customs. I had an expert go over the pieces, looking for false drawers, bottoms, hollow handles. We found nothing. It seemed a dead end. My opinion is that they don’t send it with every shipment. The last was three months ago.’
    â€˜Then you think the next one …’
    â€˜It could be. How friendly are you with your cousin?’
    â€˜He seems to like me,’ Katharine said. She shivered, in spite of the heat in the café. She still felt cold, as if she had been chilled. Hate should be fiery, it should burn.… If she shut her eyes she would see Peter lying dead in the hospital room, and the nurse taking her by the arm, brisk and callous through over-exposure to such cases. ‘Too late, I’m afraid, he’s gone.’
    â€˜That’s understandable,’ Raphael said. ‘You’re very pretty. He has a reputation for women. Can you take advantage of this?’
    â€˜No!’ She said it sharply. ‘After what you’ve told me, how could you suggest …?’
    He raised his hand. ‘I didn’t suggest anything,’ he said. ‘Just that you encourage his friendship, get as close to him and the family as you can. You can’t afford scruples. If he’s attracted to you, and obviously he is—then this could encourage him to talk. Italian men always talk to women, unless they happen to be married to them. I have a girl friend in Lucca and I tell her everything.’ He smiled at Katharine. His expression was mild and friendly again. He had a schizoid attitude which she found disconcerting. His revelation of how her brother died had been merciless. As if he knew her thoughts, he said quietly, ‘Forgive me for being brutal with you. But you needed the shock. I didn’t enjoy giving it. We are both working for the same ends. Try to forgive me.’
    â€˜Of course,’ she said. ‘You did the right thing. I’m very grateful. Nothing would shake me now. I’ll keep my head, don’t worry.’
    â€˜I’m sure you will,’ he said. ‘Now your real job is to