Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material Read Free Page B

socializing in the lush surroundings. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmured.
    “Yes, it is.”
    “I guess you go to many of these things,” said Eliza.
    “If you call working at them ‘going to them,’” answered the bartender with a melancholy smile, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “I’ve been working parties here in the park for many years.”
    “What are you doing, Bill?” asked a man dressed in a dark suit who walked up to the bar. “You know you shouldn’t be bending this lovely lady’s ear.”
    Eliza felt immediately uncomfortable, and she could tell from the flush rising in the bartender’s fair-skinned cheeks that he was embarrassed.
    “I was bending his ear, not the other way around.”
    “Well, I’m Peter Nordstrut,” said the man as he held out his hand. His grip was strong. His face was a bit puffy, and he wore horn-rimmed glasses. The deep lines at the corners of his eyes and across his brow suggested he spent a lot of time in the sun, though any tan he had picked up over the summer had already faded. His hair was blond with gray running through it. Eliza judged him to be in his mid-fifties.
    “Eliza Blake,” she said, returning his handshake.
    “Yes, I know. I’d say everyone in this room knows who you are.”
    Eliza smiled politely. “How do you know the Wheelocks?” she asked.
    “From the club,” answered Peter. “I’ve been trying to teach Innis to play court tennis, but I’m afraid it’s a lost cause.”
    “Isn’t court tennis the kind hardly anyone plays?” asked Eliza.
    “Well, it isn’t the number of people who play, it’s the quality of the people who play that counts.”
    He said it with a smile, but Eliza sensed he was an unmitigated snob.
    “Real tennis, royal tennis, court tennis—whatever you want to call it—it’s not for the masses,” he continued. “Lots of complicated rules. In fact, there are only about thirty-five existing courts for real tennis in the entire world.”
    “And Tuxedo Park has one of them?” asked Eliza, trying to sound interested.
    Peter nodded. “I’d be happy to show it to you. Even better, come over to the tennis house sometime, and I’ll teach you how to play.”
    Eliza laughed. “If Innis can’t learn, I’m sure I couldn’t either.” She glanced across the room. “Speak of the devil,” she said, hoping her relief didn’t show, “here comes Innis now.”
    After a few minutes of small talk among the three of them, Innis took Eliza’s arm. “Will you excuse us, Peter?” he asked. “I want to introduce Eliza to some of our other guests.”
    Innis led her off.
    “Couldn’t wait to get you away from that guy,” he said as he guided her through the crowd. “Peter Nordstrut is a pompous know-it-all, and God help me, I’ve had way too much to do with him over the years. He’s a crackerjack political operative, but not a very nice human being. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to talk with you alone before I share you with anyone else.”
    Eliza followed Innis out through the French doors that led to the side garden.
    “Only you, Innis, would have a reproduction of Bernini’s fountain,” said Eliza as she admired the small bronze tortoises and reached out to rub one of their shells.
    “It was one of my favorite places in Rome,” said Innis. “I could gaze at it for hours. Though I was disappointed to discover that Bernini may not have designed the fountain, only the turtles.”
    The night air had grown cooler, and Innis offered Eliza his jacket.
    “I’m fine, thanks,” Eliza said. Innis didn’t look as if he could afford to be chilled. He seemed so frail that a heavy cold could lead to something fatal.
    “Are you really fine, Eliza?” Innis asked with genuine concern. “I remember when we received kidnapping threats about Russell when Valentina was governor. She could barely function.”
    “I’m just trying to put it behind us now, Innis,” said Eliza. “That’s why I’ve rented the