By Elizabeth Peters
Artwork historian Vicky Bliss can be blond and gorgeous, yet appears to be like may be deceiving. She additionally has the mind of an Einstein, the reckless braveness of a try out pilot—and no one's extra savvy approximately superb artworks. for instance: the gold pendant her boss at Munich's nationwide Museum is at the moment dangling in entrance of her. it truly is a stupendous copy of a Charlemagne talisman—and it used to be stumbled on, besides a observe written in hieroglyphs, sewn into the go well with pocket of an unidentified guy mendacity lifeless in an alley. there is a murderous puzzle to unravel—and Vicky will commence via removing the grasp craftsperson who created the amazing piece, whether the hunt includes her to the ends of the Earth. as a substitute, it really is pointing her towards Rome, the main romantic urban on this planet. yet it is also pulling her right into a treacherous online game of intrigue the place the stakes couldn't be larger: Vicky's lifestyles!
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Extra resources for Street of the Five Moons: A Vicky Bliss Novel of Suspense (Vicky Bliss Mysteries)
The piazza had replaced the stadium, but the spirit of speed lingered on. I looked suspiciously at the other pedestrians when I left the restaurant, but, as I had anticipated, it was impossible for me to tell whether anyone was after me—for purposes of violence, I mean. One little man, who barely reached my shoulder, trotted after me for half a mile, flashing his teeth in what he mistakenly believed to be an irresistible smile. ” until he ran into a large policeman. But surely neither of them….
The Forum was crowded, and baking in the afternoon sun. So I had climbed the Palatine Hill looking for shade and privacy. It’s a maze up there, with ruined walls crossing and crisscrossing each other. The first primitive settlement of Rome had been on that hill, and occupation continued without a break for centuries. I got lost. Everybody does. I don’t know where I was when they caught up with me. There were low walls of crumbling brick, and a lot of scraggly bushes…. And that was my last coherent memory, except for a nightmare flash of a dark, scowling face and a needle pricking my arm.
I was tempted to make myself a cup of tea, and went so far as to take the lid off the tin. The box was almost full. The box of cookies had been almost full too. That probably proved something, but I couldn’t believe it was anything important. I decided not to bother with the tea, but I ate the rest of the cookies, with considerable help from the dog. What the hell, there was no way I could conceal the fact that someone had bro 43 Elizabeth Peters ken into the shop. Whatever else the dog might have done, he could not have opened the cans of smoked oysters.