Produktbeschreibung
New York Times bestselling author of the Spenser series of crime thrillers-Book 1 in the series
"The toughest, funniest, wisest, private eye in the field these days."-Houston Chronicle
Spenser earned his degree in the school of hard knocks, so he is ready when a Boston university hires him to recover a rare, stolen manuscript. He is hardly surpised that his only clue is a radical student with four bullets in his chest.
The cops are ready to throw the book at the pretty blond coed whose prints are all over the murder weapon but Spenser knows there are no easy answers. He tackles some very heavy homework and knows that if he doesn't finish his assignment soon, he could end up marked "D"-for dead.
Leseprobe
Chapter 1
ÿ
The office of the university president looked like the front parlor of a successful Victorian whorehouse. It was paneled in big squares of dark walnut, with ornately figured maroon drapes at the long windows. There was maroon carpeting and the furniture was black leather with brass studs. The office was much nicer than the classrooms; maybe I should have worn a tie.
ÿ
Bradford W. Forbes, the president, was prosperously heavy reddish face; thick, longish, white hair; heavy white eyebrows. He was wearing a brown pin-striped custom-tailored three-piece suit with a gold Phi Beta Kappa key on a gold watch chain stretched across his successful middle. His shirt was yellow broadcloth and his blue and yellow striped red tie spilled out over the top of his vest.
ÿ
As he talked, Forbes swiveled his chair around and stared at his reflection in the window. Flakes of the season s first snow flattened out against it, dissolved and trickled down onto the white brick sill. It was very gray out, a November grayness that is peculiar to Boston in late fall, and Forbes s office seemed cheerier than it should have because of that.
ÿ
He was telling me about the sensitive nature of a college president s job, and there was apparently a lot to say about it. I d been there twenty minutes and my eyes were beginning to cross. I wondered if I should tell him his office looked like a whorehouse. I decided not to.
ÿ
Do you see my position, Mr. Spenser, he said, and swiveled back toward me, leaning forward and putting both his hands palms down on the top of his desk. His nails were manicured.
ÿ
Yes, sir, I said. We detectives know how to read people.
ÿ
Forbes frowned and went on.
ÿ
It is a matter of the utmost delicacy, Mr. Spenser he was looking at himself in the glass again requiring restraint, sensitivity, circumspection, and a high degree of professionalism. I don t know the kind of people who usually employ you, but
ÿ
I interrupted him.
ÿ
Look, Dr. Forbes, I went to college once, I don t wear my hat indoors. And if a clue comes along and bites me on the ankle, I grab it. I am not, however, an Oxford don. I am a private detective. Is there something you d like me to detect, or are you just polishing up your elocution for next year s commencement?
ÿ
Forbes inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly through his nose.
ÿ
District Attorney Frale told us you were somewhat overfond of your own wit. Tell him, Mr. Tower.
ÿ
Tower stepped away from the wall where he had been leaning and opened a manila file folder. He was tall and thin, with a Prince Valiant haircut, long sideburns, buckle boots, and a tan gabardine suit. He put one foot on a straight chair and flipped open the folder, no nonsense.
ÿ
Carl Tower, he said, head of campus security. Four days ago a valuable fourteenth-century illuminated manuscript was stolen from our library.
ÿ
What is an illuminated manuscript?
ÿ
Forbes answered, A handwritten book, done by monks usually, with illustrations in color, often red and gold in the margins. This particular one is in Latin, and contains an allusion to Richard Rolle, the fourteenth-century English mystic. It was discovered forty years ago behind an ornamental fa‡ade at Godwulf Abbey, where it is thought to have been secreted during the pillage of the monasteries that followed Henry the Eighth s break with Rome.
ÿ
Oh, I said, that illuminated manuscript.
ÿ
Right, Tower said briskly. I can fill you in with description and pictures lat
Autoreninfo
Robert B. Parker