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his tie, which he had bought that afternoon from the Brothers Brooks on Newbury Street just for the occasion. A maroon number with white pigs. WASP-elegant. He rang the bell. |
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A round white-haired man with a shiny red face and bushy gray eyebrows came to the door. "Dr. Marcus Wiley?" |
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"Yes?" The beard was gone. He looked like an aged cherub. |
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Jerry handed Wiley his business card. "My name is Jerry Mars. I'm a private investigator and I'm wondering if we could talk a short while." |
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Wiley took the card and held it in the light. "Concerning what, if I may ask?" He handed the card back to Jerry but made no move to let him inside. |
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"Well, sir, it's rather confidential," Jerry said smiling. "It has to do with your association with BiOmega Labs." |
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"BiOmega? Lord, I haven't heard that name for twenty years." Wiley's expression was unreadable. |
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Jerry smiled. The man was surprisingly open. "Then it might be a trip down memory lane for you. I have some news about some of your past colleagues you might find interesting . . . if I may?" Jerry indicated that he'd prefer to talk inside. |
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Wiley opened the door wide. "Sure, come on in. What did you say your name was?" |
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They shook hands. "Mars. Jerry Mars." He stepped in with his briefcase. There was a smoke alarm just overhead on the wall. |
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"Mars," Wiley said, closing the door behind them. "Like the planet." |
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"It used to be Gianmarsiano." |
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"Yes, like Maria Terranova." |
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Wiley gave Jerry a startled glance. Was it possible he did not know of her death? |
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"Nice lady," Jerry said. "And speaking of nice," he continued without missing a beat, "this is a wonderful room." |
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The room was full of antiques. A large crystal chandelier hung overhead. On the walls were original oil paintings of people in formal eighteenth-century garb. Wiley ancestors, Jerry guessed. He looked Mayflower. |
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"Thank you," Wiley said. "Mostly my daughter's doing." |
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