{"id":2275,"date":"2026-01-03T22:20:10","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:20:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/crimson-shore-child-lee\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:20:10","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:20:10","slug":"crimson-shore-child-lee","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/crimson-shore-child-lee\/","title":{"rendered":"Crimson Shore – Child, Lee"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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1<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

W<\/span>hen the knock sounded, Constance Greene stopped playing the Flemish virginal and the library fell silent and tense. She glanced in the direction of Special Agent A. X. L. Pendergast, sitting by a dying fire, wearing thin white gloves, having gone quite still while leafing through an illuminated manuscript, a glass of Amontillado half-finished on the side table. Constance recalled the last time someone had knocked on the door of 891 Riverside Drive\u2014the rarest of occurrences at the Pendergast mansion. The memory of that awful moment now hung in the room like a miasma.<\/p>\n

Proctor, Pendergast\u2019s chauffeur, bodyguard, and general factotum, appeared. \u201cShall I answer the door, Mr. Pendergast?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease. But do not let the person in; get their name and business and report back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Three minutes later, Proctor returned. \u201cIt is a man named Percival Lake, and he wishes to hire you for a private investigation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast raised a palm, about to dismiss this out of hand. Then he paused. \u201cDid he mention the nature of the crime?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe declined to go into any details.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast seemed to fall into a reverie, his spidery fingers lightly tapping on the gilded spine of the manuscript. \u201cPercival Lake\u2026 The name is familiar. Constance, would you be so good as to look that up on\u2026 What is that website? It was named after a large mathematical number.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoogle?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, yes. Google<\/i> him for me, if you please.\u201d<\/p>\n

Constance raised her fingers from the age-yellowed ivory keys, moved away from the instrument, opened a small cupboard, and slid out a laptop on a retracting table. She typed for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a sculptor of that name who does monumental work in granite.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought it rang a bell.\u201d Pendergast plucked off the gloves and laid them aside. \u201cShow him in.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Proctor left, Constance turned to Pendergast with a frown. \u201cAre our finances so sadly reduced that you must resort to moonlighting?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not. But the man\u2019s work\u2014though rather old-fashioned\u2014is stimulating. As I recall, his figures emerge from the stone much like Michelangelo\u2019s Slave Awakening<\/i>. The least I can do is give him an audience.\u201d<\/p>\n

Moments later Proctor returned. A striking man stood in the doorway behind him: perhaps sixty-five, with a great shock of white hair. The hair was the only thing that looked at all old about him; he was close to six and a half feet tall, with a craggy, handsome face bronzed by the sun, a trim, athletic bearing, wearing a blue blazer over a crisp white cotton shirt and tan slacks. He radiated good health and vigorous living. His hands were massive.<\/p>\n

\u201cInspector Pendergast?\u201d He came striding over with his arm extended and enveloped Pendergast\u2019s pale hand in his own gigantic paw, giving it such a shake that it almost knocked over Pendergast\u2019s sherry.<\/p>\n

Inspector?<\/i> Constance winced. It looked as if her guardian was going to get his stimulation.<\/p>\n

\u201cPray sit down, Mr. Lake,\u201d said Pendergast.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you!\u201d Lake took a seat, threw one leg over the other, and leaned back.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I offer you anything to drink? Sherry?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t mind if I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Proctor silently poured him a small glass, placing it by his elbow. The sculptor took a sip. \u201cExcellent stuff, thanks. And thank you for agreeing to see me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast inclined his head. \u201cBefore you tell me your story, I\u2019m afraid I can\u2019t claim the title Inspector. That would be British. I am merely a special agent of the FBI.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I read too many murder mysteries.\u201d The man shifted in his chair. \u201cLet me get right to the point. I live in a little seaside town in northern Massachusetts called Exmouth. It\u2019s a quiet place, off the tourist trail, and not well known even among the summer crowd. About thirty years ago, my wife and I bought the old lighthouse and keeper\u2019s quarters on Walden Point, and I\u2019ve been there ever since. It\u2019s proven an excellent spot for my work. I\u2019ve always been someone who appreciates fine wine\u2014red, don\u2019t bother with white\u2014and the basement of the old house was a perfect place for my rather large collection, being dug into the ground with stone walls and floor, fifty-six degrees summer and winter. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I went away for a long weekend to Boston. When I returned, I found a rear window broken. Nothing had been taken in the house, but when we went to the basement, it was cleaned out. My wine cellar was gone!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow terrible for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Constance thought she could just detect the faintest note of contemptuous amusement in Pendergast\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me, Mr. Lake, are you still married?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy wife died several years back. I now have a, well, lady friend who lives with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd she was with you the weekend the cellar was stolen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me about your wine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere to start? I had a vertical collection of Chateau L\u00e9oville Poyferr\u00e9 going back to 1955, along with excellent collections of all the notable years of Chateau Latour, Pichon-Longueville, Petrus, Dufort-Viviens, Lascombes, Malescot-Saint-Exup\u00e9ry, Chateau Palmer, Talbot\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast stemmed this flood with an upraised hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d Lake said with a sheepish smile. \u201cI tend to go overboard when it comes to wine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly French Bordeaux?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. More recently I had been collecting some wonderful Italian wines as well, Brunellos, Amarones, and Barolos mostly. All gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you go to the police?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Exmouth police chief is worthless. An ass, in fact. He came out of Boston, and he\u2019s going through the motions, but it\u2019s clear to me he isn\u2019t taking it seriously. I suppose if it was a collection of Bud Light he might be more concerned. I need someone who\u2019s going to find that wine before it gets dispersed or, God forbid, drunk up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast nodded slowly. \u201cSo why come to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI read those books about your work. The ones by Smithback. William Smithback, I believe.\u201d<\/p>\n

A moment passed before Pendergast replied. \u201cI fear those books grossly distorted the facts. In any case, to the degree that they are true, you must realize I focus my attention on human deviancy\u2014not purloined wine. I\u2019m sorry I cannot be of more assistance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I hoped you might, since I understood from those books that you\u2019re a bit of a connoisseur yourself.\u201d Lake leaned forward in his chair. \u201cAgent Pendergast, I\u2019m a desperate man. My wife and I spent untold hours assembling that collection. Every bottle has a memory, a history, especially of my wonderful years with her. In some ways I feel like she\u2019s died all over again. I\u2019d pay you a very good fee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m indeed sorry I can\u2019t help you in the matter. Mr. Proctor will show you out.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sculptor rose. \u201cWell, I knew it was a long shot. Thanks for listening.\u201d His troubled look eased slightly. \u201cAll I can say is, thank God the thieves missed the Haut-Braquilanges!\u201d<\/p>\n

The room fell silent.<\/p>\n

\u201cChateau Haut-Braquilanges?\u201d Pendergast said faintly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, indeed. A full case of \u201904. My prized possession. It was set aside, in one corner of the cellar, in the original wooden case. The damned idiots just overlooked it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Proctor opened the door to the library, waiting.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you happen on a case of the \u201904? I thought it was long gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd so did everyone else. I\u2019m always on the lookout for wine collections for sale, especially when the owner dies and his heirs want to turn it into cash. My wife and I found this case in an old wine collection in New Orleans.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pendergast raised his eyebrows. \u201cNew Orleans?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAn ancient French family of means that fell onto hard times.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Constance watched, a look of irritation crossed Pendergast\u2019s face\u2014or was it vexation?<\/p>\n

Lake turned toward the open door just as Pendergast rose from his chair. \u201cOn second thought, I will<\/i> take on your little problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d Lake turned back, his face breaking into a smile. \u201cWonderful! As I said, whatever your fee is I will be glad\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy fee is simple: a bottle of the Haut-Braquilanges.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lake hesitated. \u201cI was thinking more along the lines of a financial arrangement.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe bottle is my fee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut to break up the case\u2026\u201d His voice trailed off and a long silence ensued. At last, Lake smiled. \u201cAh, well, why not? You obviously aren\u2019t in need of ready funds. I should be glad to have your help. In fact, you can have your pick of the case!\u201d Flushed with his own gesture of generosity, Lake extended his hand once again.<\/p>\n

Pendergast shook it. \u201cMr. Lake, please leave your address and contact information with Proctor. I will join you in Exmouth tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll look forward to seeing you. I haven\u2019t touched anything in the basement; I left it just as is. The police came through, of course, but they did precious little besides take a few photographs with a cell phone\u2014if you can believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be helpful if you found an excuse to keep them out, should they return.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReturn? Little chance of that.\u201d<\/p>\n

In a moment he had left, trailed by Proctor. Constance turned toward Pendergast. He returned her look with amused, silvery eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I ask what you\u2019re doing?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cTaking a private case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStolen wine?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dear Constance, New York City has been depressingly free of serial murders these last few months. My plate, as they say, is empty. This is a perfect vacation opportunity: a week or two in a charming seaside town, in the off-season, with an amuse-bouche of a case to occupy one\u2019s time. Not to mention a congenial client.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBlustery and self-aggrandizing would be a more suitable characterization.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a worse misanthrope than I am. I for one could use the bracing, autumnal air of the seaside after the events of late.\u201d<\/p>\n

She glanced at him privately. It was true\u2014after the ordeal he\u2019d endured over the summer, any diversion might be welcome. \u201cBut a bottle of wine as payment? Next you\u2019ll be offering your services in exchange for a Shake Shack hamburger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnlikely. That wine is the reason, the only<\/i> reason, I took the case. In the nineteenth century, Chateau Haut-Braquilanges produced the finest wines in France. Their signature claret was the product of a single vineyard, of about two acres, planted in Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Merlot. It was situated on a hill near Fronsac. Unfortunately, that hill was violently contested in World War I, drenched with mustard gas and poisoned forever, and the chateau leveled. There are at most two dozen bottles left of the vintages from that chateau known to exist. But none from the greatest vintage of all\u20141904. It was believed extinct. Extraordinary that this fellow has a case of it. You saw how reluctant he was to part with even the one bottle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Constance shrugged. \u201cI hope you enjoy the vacation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have no doubt it will be a most amiable holiday for us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUs? You want me to go with you?\u201d She felt a creeping sensation of heat in her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cIndeed. I think you\u2019re ready for a vacation like this, away from familiar surroundings. In fact, I insist. You need a holiday as much as I do\u2014and I\u2019d welcome a chance to duck those letters from the Botanic Garden administration for a spell, wouldn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/section>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview 1 When the knock sounded, Constance Greene stopped playing the Flemish virginal and the library fell silent and tense. She glanced in the direction of Special Agent A. X. L. Pendergast, sitting by a dying fire, wearing thin white gloves, having gone quite still while leafing through an illuminated manuscript, a glass of … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2274,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[139],"class_list":["post-2275","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-lee-child"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2275","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2275"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2275\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2274"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2275"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2275"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2275"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}