A Death for a Dancing Doll [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONEU'NDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, ROBERT FORSYTHE possessed an even temperament and exercised courtesy and patience, but the present circumstances were hardly normal. He was suffering from a combination of jet lag, indigestion, and pain. The flight from Heathrow in London to the Vancouver International Airport had been unpleasant. He had dozed fitfully, had eaten little, and his bad knee, injured years ago in prep school, had stiffened up so badly that he needed the support of the cane on which he was leaning. His secretary, Abigail Sanderson, although many years his senior, was in better shape and was managing to be polite to the manager of the Vancouver Harmony Hotel. The manager's name was Malone, but he had a Gallic nature and couldn't appear to speak without arm and hand motions. If Miss Sanderson had been free to keep her distance from him, it might have been tolerable, but in an elevator crowded with her employer, two bellhops, and a mound of luggage, she was shoved against Malone's sizable paunch. She noticed enviously that Forsythe had managed to work loose of the pack and was standing in front of her, silently and morosely glaring at the elevator door.To her relief, the elevator drew to a smooth stop, the doors sUd back, and she stepped into a spacious foyer. Forsythe, without glancing around, limped toward rather impressive1