Page 1 of Shelf-Made Man
Chapter
One
The lobby gave Tobias Lykke an instant headache.
The space had obviously been very grand seventy years ago, but the grandeur had been allowed to fade. Someone had more recently made a half-baked effort at a more hip and urban décor, and now Christmas baubles had been added to the mix in what appeared to be a completely random fashion.
The concierge, who might have been the party responsible for some of the decorating disaster, peered at Tobias with lowered brow. “Can I help you?”
“I, uh….” Tobias tried to shrink in on himself in hopes of looking less threatening, but since he was over six feet tall and hefty, he knew it was a lost cause. “I’m here to see Virginia Segreti.”
“You mean the Countess of Contovello.”
“She’s not really— Yes, the Countess.”
“The Countess does not receive visitors.” Apparently the concierge had been a royal bodyguard in a previous life. Must be quite a comedown to end up as desk staff in a condominium.
“But she asked me to come. She’s my aunt.” Although the latter wasn’t really the concierge’s business—and also wasn’t strictly accurate—Tobias thought it gave him a little extra cred.
After a pause, the concierge picked up a phone handset. “Just a moment.” He poked some buttons, then turned away and murmured into the receiver as if transmitting state secrets.
“Apartment 14C,” he said grudgingly after he’d hung up.
“I know. I’ve been here before.” It had been a long time, however.
The elevator interior was mirrored, which gave Tobias a chance to check his hair and tie. On the very few occasions when his aunt deigned to have a visitor, she insisted they dress up. He supposed he should be grateful that she didn’t make him rent a tux. Anyway, since his suit—the only one he owned—fit okay, his tie was straight, and his hair was mostly behaving itself, he’d probably pass inspection, even though he always felt ridiculous when dressed like this.
Apartment 14C was at the end of the hallway. He stood outside the door for a long moment, took a deep breath, and knocked.
A voice came from inside. “Tobias? Do enter.” Although he knew very well that she had been bornand raised in Southern California, her accent tended to waver somewhere between Katharine Hepburn and Queen Elizabeth II.
He stepped into a small foyer with ornate floral wallpaper and a carved wooden table with a marble top. The last time he’d been here—ten years ago—an oval mirror in a gilded frame had hung over the table. Now only a ghostly image remained where the wallpaper was less faded.
“In here, boy!”
The room that she insisted on calling the parlor was mostly dark, and the heavy scent of fresh gardenias didn’t entirely mask the odor of musty old furniture. The heavy curtains were closed against the sunny day, and a single dim lamp—set on a table in the center of the room—barely illuminated the deep burgundy walls. Even though he couldn’t clearly see the many paintings that hung on the walls, he knew from past experience that they all featured a beautiful young woman.
“Well, look at you! Haven’t you become a fine young man.”
She was seated in an armchair in the darkest corner of the room, barely discernible in her long black dress. All he could make out was her curled blonde hair, which had to be a wig.
“Thank you for inviting me, my lady.”
She laughed musically. “Oh, you can call me Aunt Virginia. You know that.”
Technically, she wasn’t his aunt. She’d been hisgrandmother’s closest childhood friend and had always referred to his mother as her niece. When Tobias came along, he became her godson and honorary nephew. He didn’t mind, especially now that neither of them had any remaining relatives.
Tobias lifted the fancy paper shopping bag clutched in his hand. “I brought you a little something.” It was a box of her favorite teas, which he’d ordered online from a shop in Singapore, and her favorite chocolates, shipped from Italy. His credit card bill had suffered, but he didn’t want to skimp on Aunt Virginia.
“You’re such a good boy. You can place the bag on the table there.” A spectral pale hand gestured. “Now, do you need to use the restroom, darling?”
He blushed. “No, thank you.” When he was five or six, his mother had brought him here on a visit shortly after he’d downed a lunchtime can of Coke. He’d nearly wet his pants, which Aunt Virginia never seemed to forget, even though his thirtieth birthday had come and gone.
“Well, have a seat.” Her hand motioned toward a chair halfway across the room from her.
Hoping he wouldn’t crash into any unseen furniture along the way, Tobias made his way to the wooden chair, tall-backed and with heavy carved arms and a barely cushioned seat. It felt like something that would be used in the early stages of an interrogation by the Inquisition—the next step being the rack. At least he didn’t have to worry whether the sturdy chairwould support his bulk.
“Thank you for coming to visit an old lady. I know from your letters that your work keeps you very busy.”
