Prologue

The Merchant of Venus

Introduction

Excerpts:

Prologue

From Chapter Two

From Chapter Two (cont.)

From Chapter Three

An Interview with the Author

The Merchant of Venus
Prologue

By Ellen Hart

If life can be said to have its own unique rhythm, so too can death -- or, in this case, murder. It was just past seven p. m. on the first day of the new year when Jane Lawless hailed a taxi in Times Square, heading for LaGuardia and the long flight home. As the glittering lights of New York sped past her, she leaned her head back against the seat, closed her eyes, and thought about life and death in Hollywood, about old wounds and new grievances, about hatred, bitterness, the desperate desire for retribution, and finally, about the most powerful emotion of all: love.

Roland Lester's story would always haunt her. Piece by piece, she'd put the puzzle together, sifted through the layers of lies and secrets until she'd developed a reasonably clear picture. It was far more complex than the simple slip of stationery she'd discovered -- a page stuffed inside an old shoe, a paper with a few numbers and letters scratched onto the surface. She'd merely done what she was good at -- followed her instincts. But while she'd been busy tracking down a fascinating bit of Hollywood history, someone had stepped right out of that history to end a life -- two lives, before it was all over.

There were no simple answers, thought Jane, hearing the cab driver fiddle with the radio. He'd been listening to a religious station, but now seemed to be in a mood for jazz. Jane's story, her Christmas trip to Innishannon, had ended in one shattering moment inside a ramshackle house in Wister, Connecticut. The Merchant of Venus had led her there, and like a fool, she'd followed. But was it love or hate? Fact or fiction? The only question she'd been concerned with that night had to do with life or death. The search for complex truths paled when you were staring down the barrel of a gun.