The Inquisitor’s Key by Jefferson Bass

Author:Jefferson Bass
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

“NOW WHAT?” ASKED MIRANDA.

We’d voiced our concerns to the ranking security officer at the palace; he took notes and promised to investigate, but he didn’t seem nearly as worried as Miranda and I were. After that, we’d gone to the police station, but the entrance was locked. A notice taped to the glass door announced FERMÉ—JOUR FÉRIÉ. OUVERT LUNDI. “Damn,” said Miranda. “Closed. Religious holiday. Open Monday.”

“Swell,” I said. “It’d be a great day to rob a bank, if we weren’t otherwise occupied.” I hesitated. “Do you…happen to have a key to Stefan’s apartment?”

She punched me in the shoulder. “No, I don’t happen to have a key to his apartment, but thanks for the vote of confidence. I came to work, not to get laid.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Sorry; my issue, not yours. It was a reasonable question. But the answer’s still no. I don’t have a key.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“What, the key?”

“No, Einstein, the apartment,” I said.

“Ah. Actually, I do know where the apartment is. Stefan invited me for dinner the first night. I think I can find it again. It’s not far from the palace, and it’s got a balcony with a view of the palace and cathedral. If we stand at the front of the cathedral, I bet I can spot his balcony, and then we can figure out how to get to his building.”

Fueled by fear, we hurried back to the main plaza and scurried up the staircase to the cathedral, positioning ourselves directly in front of an immense crucifix. Shading her eyes against the late-morning sun, Miranda scanned the skyline. “I wish I hadn’t had that third glass of wine that night,” she said. “The view of the palace and the cathedral was great. I remember that much, but not much more than that.” She frowned, shaking her head. “Damn it. Why didn’t I pay more attention?”

I couldn’t resist the opening. “Hmm, maybe because you were delirious from appendicitis?” Her elbow caught me just beneath the ribs. “Youch! Now it’s my appendix that’s exploding. Come on, you know you deserved that.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry—I’m taking out my guilt on you. It’s less painful that way.” She gave me another token jab. “See? I feel better already.”

“So, the night of the winefest, you went out on the balcony. Were you standing? Perching on stools? Sitting on a stone balustrade?” She shrugged. “Doing handstands on a metal railing?”

“Yes!” she suddenly shouted, grabbing my arm. “That’s it—a metal railing. A cheap-ass, flimsy metal railing. One of the damn welds broke when I leaned on it. I almost fell off, from five stories up. Dogs would’ve been licking my brains off the sidewalk. Only thing that kept me from falling was a windsock I managed to grab.” She shook her head. “That’s why I didn’t go to bed with Stefan that night, even though I was looped and he was trying to put the moves on me. I thought, You bastard, you let me lean on this cheap-ass, flimsy railing that could’ve killed me.

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