CHAPTER 18
FULHAM PALACE, LONDON
The long-eared owl skimmed low across the well-tended lawn and soared at the last minute to perch on the gauntlet of Vance’s outstretched arm. The detective bent his elbow and brought the bird closer to stare into the two marble-like orange eyes. In a strangely smug way, the detective inspector was pleased that the falconers had chosen him to receive an owl and not a hawk. This sentiment was born of a fallacy—the ridiculous notion that owls were wiser than other creatures. Since wisdom was the virtue that Vance most aspired to, his expression of mild superiority was understandable to himself if to no one else. He glanced across at the bride. The gyrfalcon perched on her wrist was tearing at its reward of raw meat. When their eyes met, Sabrina Markham, Hea
