The Mephisto Club

loaded, and he’s good-looking. But he never turns up on the society pages. No charity balls, no black-tie fund-raisers. He’s like a total recluse.”
    “He didn’t strike me as the kind of man you’d find on the party circuit.”
    “What else did you think about him?”
    “We didn’t have that long a conversation.”
    “But you did have one that night.”
    “It was freezing outside, and he invited me in for coffee.”
    “Didn’t that seem a little weird?”
    “What?”
    “That he made a special effort to invite you in?”
    “I appreciated the gesture. And for the record, it was the butler who came out to get me.”
    “You, specifically? He knew who you were?”
    Maura hesitated. “Yes.”
    “What did he want from you, Doc?”
    Maura had moved on to the torso, and she now measured the stab wound on the chest and jotted the dimensions on her clipboard. The questions were getting too pointed, and she didn’t like the implications: that she’d let herself be used by Anthony Sansone. “I didn’t reveal anything vital about the case, Jane. If that’s what you’re asking.”
    “But you did talk about it?”
    “About a number of things. And yes, he wanted to know what I thought. It’s not surprising, since the body was found in his garden. Understandably, he’s curious. And maybe a little eccentric.” She met Jane’s gaze and found it uncomfortably probing. She dropped her attention back to the corpse, to wounds that did not disturb her nearly as much as Jane’s questions.
    “Eccentric? That’s the only word you can think of?”
    She thought of the way Sansone had studied her that night, how his eyes had reflected the firelight, and other words came to mind.
Intelligent. Attractive. Intimidating.
    “You don’t think he’s just a little bit creepy?” asked Jane. “Because I sure do.”
    “Why?”
    “You saw his house. It’s like stepping into a time warp. And you never saw the other rooms, with all those portraits staring from the walls. It’s like walking into Dracula’s castle.”
    “He’s a history professor.”
    “Was. He’s not teaching anymore.”
    “Those are probably heirlooms, and priceless. Clearly he appreciates his family legacy.”
    “Oh yeah, the family legacy. That’s where he got lucky. He’s a fourth-generation trust-funder.”
    “Yet he pursued a successful academic career. You have to give him some credit for that. He didn’t just turn into an idle playboy.”
    “Here’s the interesting twist. The family trust fund was established back in 1905, by his great-grandfather. Guess what the name of that trust fund is?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “It’s called the Mephisto Foundation.”
    Maura glanced up, startled. “Mephisto?” she murmured.
    “You gotta wonder,” said Jane, “with a name like that, what kind of family legacy are we talking about?”
    Yoshima asked, “What’s the significance of that name? Mephisto?”
    “I looked it up,” said Jane. “It’s short for Mephistopheles. Doc here probably knows who he was.”
    “The name comes from the legend of Dr. Faustus,” said Maura.
    “Who?” asked Yoshima.
    “Dr. Faustus was a magician,” said Maura. “He drew secret symbols to summon the Devil. An evil spirit named Mephistopheles appeared and offered him a deal.”
    “What kind of deal?”
    “In exchange for the full knowledge of magic, Dr. Faustus sold his soul to the Devil.”
    “So Mephisto is…”
    “A servant of Satan.”
    A voice suddenly spoke over the intercom. “Dr. Isles,” said Maura’s secretary, Louise. “You have an outside call on line one. It’s a Mr. Sansone. Do you want to pick up, or shall I take a message?”
    Speak of the Devil.
    Maura met Jane’s gaze and saw Jane give a quick nod.
    “I’ll take the call,” said Maura. Stripping off her gloves, she crossed to the wall phone and picked up the receiver. “Mr. Sansone?”
    “I hope I’m not interrupting you,” he said.
    She looked at the body on the table.
Eve Kassovitz won’t mind,
she thought.
There is no one as patient as the dead.
“I have a minute to talk.”
    “This Saturday, I’m hosting a supper here at my home. I’d love to have you join us.”
    Maura paused, acutely aware that Jane was watching her. “I’ll need to think about it,” she said.
    “I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about.”
    “Actually, I am.”
    “I promise not to pick your brain about the investigation.”
    “I can’t talk about it anyway. You