The Girl in the Face of the Clock
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Jane has been expecting this call for years. Aaron Sailor was a promising painter before he fell down the stairs of their Soho loft. He has been in a coma for the past eight years, and the doctors have made it clear that there is no chance for recovery. This phone call from the nursing home can only mean one thing.
But her father is not dead, Jane learns to her surprise. Still unconscious, he has suddenly begun to speak. What he says is as baffling as it is upsetting. "No, Perry, don't do it. No, Perry, no." Were these the last words that Aaron spoke before his head was smashed on the vestibule floor? Could his fall perhaps have not been an accident? And who was Perry?
Searching through her father's old papers Jane stumbles across a name she has never heard before. Perry Mannerback turns out to be an eccentric billionaire who spends his time giving away money and collecting rare clocks. Jane goes to work for him, hoping to find some answers, but instead discovers the real question: Will she get out of this alive?
From the high stakes world of New York City art galleries to the underbelly of London's antique trade to the puzzling attentions of an international financier, Jane follows the trail of a killer as Charles Mathes takes his readers on another dazzling adventure.
the waitress departed with their orders. “He has an office on Park Avenue,” answered Elinore. “For all those people with endocrine problems.” Elinore laughed uproariously at her little joke. So did Dr. King. Jane tried to smile. “I’m also affiliated with Yorkville East End,” he said proudly. “They just brought my father there for tests,” said Jane without thinking. “It’s a very good hospital, I understand.” “What kind of tests?” demanded Elinore. “Oh, just some tests,” said Jane, mentally
“How did you get Perry Mannerback to pay?” “I didn’t get him to pay. He volunteered. I’m working for him.” “No!” said Elinore, falling back against her chair in amazement. “When did this happen?” “I called him up to talk about my father and he offered me a job,” said Jane, happy to see Elinore so nonplussed. “That’s fantastic,” said Elinore. “Simply fantastic. But I still don’t understand. Why is he paying for Aaron?” “Actually, I’m not really sure myself,” said Jane. “Do you know of any
voice saying. “On West Ninetieth Street.” “What does the L. stand for?” “Luria. Family name.” “Yes, I remember from the article. Take care of my heart, Jane L. Sailor, now that you’ve got it in your pocket.” With a wink, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the airport crowds. Smiling despite herself, Jane collected her suitcase and the one Perry had checked when they had boarded the plane in New York. Then she took a cab to the Regency, a new hotel in the center of Seattle. Its
opponent was clearly not expecting any kind of credible resistance. Smiling, she walked slowly over and drew Jane to her by the lapels of her jacket. Jane was close enough to smell the woman’s expensive perfume before she suddenly stamped her foot down on her attacker’s instep, then swung her clasped hands at the woman’s jaw. It was a series of movements that Jane had often used in fight routines, and it looked positively lethal. The trouble was that, while she understood perfectly how to mimic
King,” said Jane. “Is this true, Gregory?” shrieked Elinore. “How could you do something like that? I can’t believe you could be so stupid. Did you want to get caught?” “No, no, of course not,” said Dr. King weakly. “Maybe he did,” said Jane. “He’s a doctor. He’s supposed to be someone who heals people, not someone who kills them.” “Shut up, Janie,” said Elinore. “Just shut up. Let’s get this over with. Get over here, Greg.” “You’ll never get away with it,” said Jane desperately, as Gregory