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been working out of the country a great deal. He’s only recently made Sequence Springs his business headquarters.” She wondered if she was laying it on too heavily. If Jonas could hear her he would be looking around for something to clean his boots.
    But if Doug and Elyssa were concerned by the fact that the “consultant” they wanted to hire had based his worldwide headquarters in a small-town vegetarian restaurant, they were too polite to show it.
    “Jonas was recommended to us by a friend,” Elyssa said. “A close acquaintance of mine who has the most extraordinary intuition. I explained to him the sort of expert we needed, and he asked around for us. Preston has a wide variety of contacts.”
    “Preston Yarwood,” Doug Warwick put in dryly, “makes a hell of a good living running psychic self-development seminars in the Bay Area. Elyssa’s been a faithful student for the past six months. He’s into crap like channeling and metaphysical massage. He also drives a Porsche and wears hand-tailored suits. I suppose the guy must be doing something right.”
    “Now, Doug, this is no time to make fun of Preston,” Elyssa scolded in a gentle, sisterly tone. “He’s a very talented, highly intuitive man. A wonderful teacher. He’s actually got precognitive abilities, although he’s too modest to admit it.”
    “Bull,” Doug said cheerfully. “He never loses an opportunity to remind people of his so-called visions.”
    “You can’t deny that he found Mr. Quarrel for us.” Verity eyed the Warwicks closely. “Just how did this Preston locate Jonas?”
    Elyssa’s smile was radiant. “He contacted the editor of a small journal that specializes in Renaissance studies. You see, we need an expert in that particular era of history. The journal editor said he’d just published an article by a Mr. Quarrel, who was quite knowledgeable about the Renaissance and might be just the man we needed. He told Preston that Jonas Quarrel once had quite a reputation for being able to authenticate almost anything. Apparently Mr. Quarrel did an article on fencing techniques for the journal?”
    Verity smiled complacently. “You’ve read it?”
    “I’m afraid not, although I’d certainly like to,” Elyssa said with great charm.
    “I just happen to have an extra copy,” Verity told her smoothly “I’ll let you have it. I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting. It’s a brilliant piece.”
    “I’m sure it is.”
    “What exactly did you want Jonas to authenticate?” Verity looked at Doug Warwick.
    “A sixteenth-century villa,” he replied promptly.
    Verity stared at him. “A villa? In Italy?” Visions of a vacation in the Italian countryside danced through her head. This might be even better than a trip to Hawaii.
    Doug gave her a level look over the rim of his tiny espresso cup. “I wish it were that simple. If Hazelhurst’s Horror were in Italy, I wouldn’t have the problem of trying to assure my buyers that it’s genuine. But since it’s located on an island up in the Pacific Northwest, things get complicated.”
    “Good grief,” Verity exclaimed. “How did a sixteenth-century Renaissance villa get to an island in the Northwest?”
    “It was taken apart in Italy before the turn of the century, shipped here to the States, and reconstructed by an eccentric relative of our late uncle, Eustis Hazelhurst. Our uncle Digby, who was just as nutty as his relative, inherited the place when Eustis died. Then, two years ago, our uncle died and I inherited the monstrosity.”
    “Doug put it up for sale immediately,” Elyssa explained. “Who can afford the taxes and upkeep on a thing like Hazelhurst’s Horror? It costs a fortune to maintain. A group of businessmen want to turn it into a resort. They’re very interested in the place, but they want proof that the villa is authentic before they pay what Doug is asking. So, Doug has decided to hire someone with a respectable academic reputation to look the place