Kurtz, Katherine - Adept 02 - The Lodge of the Lynx by Kurtz Katherine

Author:Kurtz, Katherine [Kurtz, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-09-07T04:01:27+00:00

Adam grimaced. He could just imagine the headlines. Aloud he said, “Did you know the man?”

“Only slightly,” McLeod replied. “His name is - was - Ian MacPherson. Had his own joinery business in Lochend, where his Lodge is located.” He indicated the dead man’s apron and collar and pursed his lips in darkling speculation. “I’d be willing to bet this is their regular Lodge night. My guess is that he must’ve been nabbed just before the meeting was about to start - maybe even on the Lodge premises themselves. I’ve sent Donald over there to make inquiries. As one of their own, so to speak, he’ll be more likely to get information than some - but only if there’s something to tell.”

He paused and shook his head. “I don’t know, Adam. Randall’s death was bad enough - but this begins to get really spooky. If we don’t get to the bottom of this mess pretty soon, we’re likely to find ourselves with a public witch-hunt on our hands. And what’s worse, the self-appointed witch-hunters will be looking in all the wrong places - with the Masonic Order itself at the top of the list.” “All too true, I’m afraid,” Adam agreed soberly. “What else can you tell me just now? Was MacPherson struck by lightning?”

McLeod scowled like a thundercloud. “So the evidence would suggest. First there’s the localized shock-burn in the center of the chest. Then there’s the fact that MacPherson’s wristwatch stopped at 8:17 - which pinpoints the time of death. The coins in his pockets were reduced to slag - another documented feature associated with victims of lightning strikes. I’m not a doctor, but it seems fairly convincing to me.”

Adam nodded grimly.

“This would be far easier to explain,” McLeod continued, “if this were summer in the tropics. But electrical storm weather is pretty freakish for Scotland in winter. I wish I could pretend to believe that this whole thing was an elaborate crime perpetrated under studio conditions by someone who’d seen one too many horror films. As it is, we’ve got a couple of witnesses who claim they saw strange clouds massing over the graveyard only moments before the lightning strike took place.”

Adam’s gaze sharpened. “Why does this suddenly sound like some of the stories that came out in conjunction with that incident up at Balmoral last month?” McLeod blinked. “Do you think there might be a connection?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said, “but it’s a theory worth looking into.” He might have said more, but at that moment, Peregrine hurried back to join them, his face showing a mixture of revulsion and excitement. “Look at this!” he said, and held out his sketch pad for their inspection. Adam took the pad and tilted it toward the light. The drawing showed MacPherson lashed to the memorial stone at whose foot he now lay, wearing not only the apron and collar of the Master of a Lodge but also a circular medallion hanging round his neck by a long chain. The device on the face of the medallion was that of a snarling head of a lynx.

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