Bobbi Smith by Heaven Page A

night before. He did not relish being the one to tell the professor that Mr. Anthony was dead, but he knew it was important to give him the book as soon as possible. He made his way across town to the hotel and went inside to the front desk.
    “I need Professor Parker’s room number, please,” he told the hotel clerk.
    The clerk gave him a startled look. “He’s in 304, but if you wait a minute, you’ll see him coming down.”
    “Oh? Is there someone else here to see him?” Henry wanted to be as discreet as possible.
    “So to speak. The authorities are here. I think they’ve come to arrest him.”
    “The Professor?” Henry could only stare at the man. “For what?”
    “The man he dined with in the hotel dining room last night was found dead this morning—poisoned! They were seen arguing and then the professor chased him from the dining room. Witnesses saw everything.”
    Henry was taken aback by this news. Mr. Anthony—poisoned? He mumbled something to the clerk, then moved numbly away from the desk. It had been difficult enough dealing with his employer’s death when he’d thought he’d died from natural causes, but to hear that he’d been murdered sickened him.
    No matter the malicious words of the clerk, Henry was certain that the professor was innocent. The idea that they’d had a fight that turned deadly was ridiculous. They’d been friends. There were only two people who wanted Mr. Anthony dead, and he knew exactly who they were.
    A commotion on the main stairway drew everyone’s attention. Henry saw the authorities appear with Enoch Parker in tow.
    “But I don’t know what you’re talking about . . .” Enoch was saying as he was led away. “I just saw Lawrence last night and he was fine . . .”
    Henry could see the horrified look on the professor’s face, and he clutched the two remaining books more tightly to him. There seemed to be some terrible, devious plot at work here, but he didn’t know how to thwart it. Right then, he knew the most important thing he could do was his duty to Mr. Anthony—to see the books delivered.
    Henry waited until the excitement over the professor’s arrest had quieted down, then left the hotel. As he went outside, he glanced around at the crowd that had gathered to watch the professor being taken away. It was then that he saw Philip and Robert, standing across the street.
    Henry’s blood ran cold at the sight of them, for their expressions were not those of two loving sons relieved that their father’s murderer had been caught. Their expressions were of smug triumph and victory.
    Henry knew a moment of panic. He did not want them to see him, especially not while he had the books in his possession. He didn’t want to explain why he was at the hotel. He turned to retreat into the hotel just as the two brothers happened to look up and see him. Across the distance, their gazes met and locked. Henry looked away first and disappeared inside. Philip said something to Robert and went after him.
    Henry rushed across the lobby and out another door. His thoughts were racing as he tried to distance himself from the pursuing Philip. He was beginning to understand now what Mr. Anthony had meant when he’d warned him that he might regret giving him his word that he would deliver the books.
    Glancing back over his shoulder, Henry saw that Philip had followed him from the building, but had not yet seen him. Henry darted into an alleyway, and, undaunted by the stench of rotting garbage, he hid behind some crates and waited. Only then did he realize his hands were shaking and a cold sweat had broken out on his brow. After a moment, he saw Philip pass by. Not convinced that the other man was gone, he continued to hide, and a short time later he saw Philip retrace his steps in the direction of the hotel. Still not daring to reveal himself, Henry stayed where he was another minute, then quietly emerged to look around.
    Relief washed over him as he found that he’d eluded