Kellerman, Jonathan - Web by Kellerman Jonathan

Author:Kellerman, Jonathan [Kellerman, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1995-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

***

Jo seemed different- eyes less burdened, voice lighter, almost giddy, praising the food every third bite, informing the table that Lyman's body had reached the States and been picked up by his family. Then, waving off condolences, she changed the subject to her research, pronouncing that everything was "proceeding grandly."

The sky turned deep blue, then black. The rain clouds were gray smudges. They hadn't moved much since morning.

When Jo stopped talking, Moreland strode to the railing where some geckos were racing. When he waved a piece of fruit, they stopped and stared at him; dinnertime was probably a cue. He hand-fed them, then returned to the table and delivered a discourse on interspecies bonding. Avoiding my eyes, I thought.

A bit of small talk followed before the conversation settled upon Claire Romero, the way it often does with a newcomer.

She was well-spoken, but very quiet. The Honolulu-born daughter of two high school teachers, she'd played violin in college and in several chamber groups and had considered a professional career in music.

"Why didn't you?" said Jo, nibbling a croissant.

Claire smiled. "Not enough talent."

"Sometimes we're not our own best judges."

"I am, Dr. Picker."

"She's the only one who feels that way," said Ben. "She was a child prodigy. I married her and took her away from it."

Claire looked at her plate. "Please, Ben-"

"You are immensely talented, dear," said Moreland. "And it's been so long since you played for us- last year, wasn't it? On my birthday, in fact. What a lovely night that was."

"I've barely played since, Dr. Bill." She turned to Robin. "Have you ever built a violin?"

"No, but I've thought of it. I have some old Alpine spruce and Tyrolean maple that would be perfect, but it's a little intimidating."

"Why's that?" said Jo.

"Small scale, subtle gradations. I wouldn't want to ruin old wood."

"Claire's got a terrific old fiddle," said Ben. "French- a Guersan. Over a hundred years old." He winked. "In fact, it just happens to be down in the car."

Claire stared at him.

He smiled back with mock innocence.

She shook her head.

"Well, then," said Moreland, clapping his hands. "You must play for us."

"I'm really rusty, Dr. Bi-"

"I'm willing to assume the risk, dear."

Claire glared at Ben.

"Please, dear. Just a piece or two."

"I'm warning you, get out the earplugs."

"Warning duly noted. Would it be possible to play the piece you did for us last year? The Vivaldi?"

Claire hesitated, glanced at Ben.

"I saw the case," he said. "Just lying there in the closet. It said, "Take me along."'

"If you're hearing voices, perhaps you should have a long talk with Dr. Delaware."

"Dear?" said Moreland, softly.

Claire shook her head. "Sure, Dr. Bill."

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