The Death Dealer (16 page)

Genevieve was disturbed that her mother hadn’t told her about her plans to go out with the Ravens, and she felt a keen sense of unease as she headed down to the garage to get her car. The garage wasn’t ablaze with light, but it wasn’t dark, either, though there were shadows. Still, it could only be accessed—whether from the street or from the building itself—with a resident’s keycard.

Even so, the door had barely closed behind her before she felt a strange sensation sweep over her. It wasn’t exactly fear. Not at first. It was more the sense that someone else was out there.

Then she felt the chill.

It was as if the shadows themselves were moving, as if darkness itself was snaking around her.

Touching her.

She started walking more quickly, looking around. She couldn’t see anyone.

She almost raced back to the door to the building, actually pictured herself fumbling with the key, desperate to get inside as quickly as she could.

At that point her car was closer, so she started to run for it. And even though she had just
seen
that there was no one around, she
felt
that someone was there. Someone who was trying to stop her.

She reached her car, but her fingers were trembling, and she had trouble opening the door.

Darkness, like a living thing, seemed to be rising behind her. She could almost feel the whisper of its breath.

She got the door open at last and jumped inside, then slammed and locked the door behind her. She swallowed hard as paranoia seized her again, and turned around. She actually expected to see someone sitting in the backseat, someone who’d hidden there, waiting, and who was now ready to pounce….

But no one was there. Of course.

Then…

She could have sworn she heard a whisper.

Help me!

She swallowed a scream and swung her head around, from side to side, in panic. She was ready to abandon the car and even opened the door.

Then she saw someone walking through the garage and plainly heard a cheerful whistle. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

“Evening, Miss O’Brien.”

She sagged against the back of the seat and stared blankly at Tim Rindle, one of the night watchmen. Tim was a handsome twenty-something, clean cut, always cheerful. He had just gotten out of the service and was working nights to put himself through college.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as he got closer and saw her face, which she knew must have been as pale as a ghost.

She swallowed hard. Straightened. Felt like a complete fool.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

“Are you sure? Do you need me to help you up to your apartment or anything?” he asked anxiously.

Fear was slipping away like a cast-off shawl. There was so obviously no one but the two of them in the garage.

She almost laughed aloud at herself. But then Tim’s smile faded. “Miss O’Brien, you’ve got to be careful out there, okay?”

“Of course. I’m always careful.”

“There’s nothing on the news except about that poor girl who was murdered.”

“I’ll be careful, Tim.”

He was still looking at her, worried and frowning. “I wish I was off duty—I’d go with you to make sure you get wherever you’re going.”

“I’m just going to O’Malley’s. I know everyone there, and they all know me. My mother is waiting for me there,” she fibbed, “and a bunch of other friends.”

She gave him a wave and started the engine. Then she paused and rolled down the window. “Tim?”

“Yes?”

“There are two of you on duty tonight, right?”

“Always,” he assured her.

“You haven’t seen anyone walking around down here, have you?”

“Well, I gave Mrs. Larson—you know, in 10-D—her cat back a few minutes ago.”

She laughed. “Pussy Galore?”

“Yeah,” he said, and shook his head. “She’s got to keep that cat inside. He’s going to get run over one of these days if he doesn’t stop sneaking through the door whenever anyone goes in or out.”

She smiled and waved again. “Good night. And thanks.”

As she merged with the traffic, she decided that she was going a little bit crazy. It was all Joe’s fault, she told herself, then admitted that maybe it was at least partly her own, too. After all, she was the one who had just called in Harrison Investigations.

She had to stop her mind from playing games, that was all. All she needed was to be careful, make sure she stuck to safe places, and that she didn’t take chances.

And she needed to see to it that her mother did the same.

With that thought in mind, she searched the street for parking and found a place in a busy area not far from the pub. But when she stepped out of her car to put money in the meter, she once again felt as if someone eerie and not quite real was nearby. For a split second, she felt the sense of shadows and darkness and fear closing in around her.

She told herself that she was on a busy New York street, a stone’s throw from the pub itself, not to mention that she had great lung capacity and could scream like a banshee, if need be.

She turned around and realized that there
was
someone near her.

A bum.

“Lady, got some change?” he whined.

She felt ridiculously relieved and handed him a dollar.

He offered her a toothless grin and walked off.

Shaking her head, she hurried on to the pub.

Everyone in the place seemed to be talking when she walked in, and the music playing in the background only added to the din.

Paddy, over by the dartboard, was the first to see her. “Gen!” he called out, and made his way through a throng of people to reach her.

“Hey, Paddy,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re all right, lass?”

“Of course, Paddy, thanks.”

He nodded gravely. “Eileen is at the table over yonder.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Oh, aye, there’s a group of them tonight, there be.”

“I guess everyone is shaken up.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, though he could have shouted and no one would have noticed. “She shouldn’t be alone with those folks right now, and that’s a fact,” he said.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. “I agree,” she whispered conspiratorially in return, then smiled and patted his shoulder. “But when she’s here, I know she’s fine. I know you and Angus will keep an eye on her.”

He nodded gravely. “And on you, Gen,” he swore.

“Thank you,” she told him. “You always make me feel like I’m…home. And safe. Give Angus a hug for me, huh? I’m going to go see what’s up with my mom, okay?”

“Sure thing. You ever need me, young lady, you call.”

“I will.”

He started to turn away, then paused. “Adam Harrison is here, too,” he said.

“Adam?” That did startle her.

He pointed. Adam was alone at the end of the bar, leaning against the wall, watching the room. He lifted his beer to her, and his eyes seemed to speak volumes.

In fact, they chided her. It was as if she could hear him saying,
You shouldn’t have come out on your own.

She smiled. Okay, first she would go over to see Adam, since a quick glance told her that her mother was fine and hadn’t even noticed she was there.

“Adam,” she said, reaching him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Right. Now you won’t have to call to tell me you’re on your way,” he said.

She flushed. “I guess I should have called someone, huh?”

“Yes. You should have.”

“But honestly, Adam, this isn’t about me. It’s about Eileen.”

He leaned low. “Shall we accost her together?” he teased.

“Why not?”

He finished his beer and set down the glass. “Genevieve?”

“Yes?”

“Murder can happen anywhere at any time. And whether you like it or not, this Poe Killer thing is personal. Because of who you are, you have to be careful all the time, but now you need to be even more vigilant.”

She inhaled. Exhaled. Remembered how terrified she had been in her own garage.

“I don’t want to turn into a little old lady who’s afraid to leave her own apartment,” she told him. “And I really am careful,” she assured him.

“You drove down here alone, right?”

“Because my mother was here.”

“But that’s not being careful,” he said gently.

“How did you know to come here?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

He stared back at her. “Hunch,” he said. “Now, before we go over to see your mother, tell me who all those people with her are. A few of them look familiar, but a refresher course won’t hurt.”

She told him quickly who was whom, and then he took her hand and led her through the crowd.

When Eileen saw Genevieve’s face, her own went a little white.

It was guilt.

She hadn’t called Genevieve, and she was with the Ravens. Brook had called and asked her to join them for a drink at the pub, and she had agreed without really thinking.

But she had never thought she was in danger from any of them anyway—or, to be honest, from anyone else. She spent her time worrying about Genevieve.

Then she saw Adam, and her face was suffused with color again, and she smiled delightedly. “Adam!” she called, interrupting the conversation around the table.

“Eileen,” he replied, with a smile of his own.

She was sitting between Larry and Lila, but she quickly excused herself and got to her feet, hugging Adam, offering a kiss to Genevieve, then turning to introduce him to the others. He had indeed met several of them at various charity functions, and greetings went around the table.

With Eileen on her feet, talking to Adam, Larry and Lila, who had so vigorously pointed fingers at each other regarding Thorne’s murder, were now next to one another—and pointedly ignoring each other, Gen noticed. Suddenly Lila jumped up and demanded, “So, Adam Harrison, what are you doing in town?”

“You’re not up here because of this dreadful business, are you?” Lou asked.

“Just came up on business,” Adam said lightly.

“Well, you managed to arrive just when the city is going insane,” Larry said.

Meanwhile, Brook dragged over some extra chairs, and in a minute they were all seated.

“Honestly, that murder is all that anyone is talking about,” Larry said. “Everyone’s forgotten about war in the Middle East and global warming.”

“This girl…” Brook said. “I can see why everyone’s so interested in her. She was a lost child of New York.”

“A lost child of New York. I like that. Can I steal it?” Larry asked. “It’ll make a great headline.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll be looking for something deeper, something that gets into the psychology of the phenomenon, for the magazine,” Brook said with a shrug.

“You’re both awful!” Barbara exploded.

They all fell silent, staring at her. She flushed. “One minute you’re complaining because people are treating this like the most devastating news in the world, and the next you’re talking about the spin you’re going to give the story yourselves.”

“Bravo,” Don Tracy said, and applauded, causing Barbara to turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“Not to mention that we’re all forgetting what it means to us personally,” Lou said quietly.

“Just what
does
it mean to us?” Nat Halloway asked.

“My dear money man, so sweet and accommodating—and unimaginative,” Lou said, but not unkindly. “It means there really is a psycho out there with a Poe fixation. And that no one in the city is safe—especially us.”

“Just how did you all end up here tonight?” Adam asked pleasantly.

“Well…we get together here all the time,” Don said. Then he laughed. “Hell, I’m here because I needed a drink.”

“I called Eileen,” Lou said. “And she said we should call Lila, and Lila called Barbara.”

“It’s where we hang out,” Larry said a little lamely.

“Just like
Cheers,
” Don said, lifting his glass. “Everybody knows our names.”

“We needed comfort, if you ask me,” Nat said, and they all fell silent, because unimaginative or not, he had hit on the truth.

The table was still quiet when Genevieve noticed, from the corner of her eye, that the front door had opened and someone else was coming into the crowded bar.

Joe.

She knew she should have tried to get hold of him, at least to let him know she was on her way here, even to invite him to join them. Then again, he had gone off on a trip she certainly hadn’t been invited to share.

She certainly hadn’t expected to see him here now, though.

He saw them and made his way through the crowd and directly toward their table.

“Hello,” Joe said, as if he were greeting everyone at the table all at once. And he was. But his eyes were on Adam, and he wasn’t pretending he wasn’t surprised to see him.

Adam had risen, his hand out to greet Joe warmly, and apparently Joe wasn’t going to be churlish enough to reject his greeting. They clasped hands, then joined in a quick embrace before drawing back to study each other in the way of two men who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“You look good, Joe,” Adam said.

“So do you. So what the hell brings you to town?” Joe asked pleasantly, only his eyes betraying his suspicion.

They had an audience, Genevieve knew. And Joe was playing the scene well. But when he looked at her, she stiffened. A shaft of cold air seemed to blast straight at her, his eyes were so cold.

He knew. Somehow he knew that she had called Adam.

“I have some business here in the city,” Adam said. “Naturally I gave Genevieve a call.”

“Naturally,” Joe echoed dryly. “And you just happened to show up here?” he asked Genevieve, his tone still pleasant.

“We were just talking about the way we all gravitate to this place,” Eileen said, giving Joe her most radiant smile.

If Joe admired anyone, Gen thought, it was Eileen. And in fact, his eyes did soften as he turned to her.

“Joe, what’s your take on this murder?” Brook asked.

“I don’t know who killed her, if that’s what you’re asking,” Joe said.

“She disappeared on Sunday,” Barbara said, her gaze focused straight ahead, her eyes unseeing, as the words left her lips. “Mary Rogers. Eighteen forty-one. She left her home on a Sunday. She was found on a Wednesday. In the water. Just the same.”

“He’s getting better,” Don Tracy said darkly.

“Better?” Joe asked.

Don grimaced. “First Thorne, a murder that had similarities to several of Poe’s stories but didn’t really parallel any of them. But this…this was on the money. She was found by the river. Relatively near the spot where Mary Rogers was found. Found in pretty much the same…state of decomposition.”

“But this investigation will be very different,” Eileen said firmly.

“And how is that, Eileen?” Nat asked her.

“Science,” Eileen said. “The police have so much more to work with these days. What is it, Joe? At every crime scene, the killer inadvertently takes something away or leaves something behind. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Maybe not a really clever killer,” Barbara said, shuddering and turning to look at Joe with wide, frightened eyes.

“They’ll catch this guy, I’m certain,” Joe said firmly.

Barbara nodded, as if she trusted his words.

“Let’s hope they catch him before—Well, soon,” Lou said.

“She was a slut,” Lila pointed out.

“Oh, Lila!” Nat Halloway protested. “No one deserves to die like that.”

“I didn’t say she deserved to die like that,” Lila said irritably. “It’s just that…we reap what we sow.”

“The killer will be caught,” Joe said again, and his words were followed by an uncomfortable silence around the table.

“Well, I, for one, should be calling it a night,” Larry said. “The presses wait for no man.”

“We should probably all get moving,” Lou suggested. “It was good to see everyone, though.”

Goodbyes were said, and eventually only Eileen, Adam, Joe and Genevieve were left. Eileen slid back into her seat and patted the chair beside her. “Adam, it’s so nice to see you. Have a seat.”

Joe was staring at Genevieve, who sat down across from her mother. She was dying to ask him about the afternoon, but this didn’t feel like the right time.

Without waiting for an invitation, Joe sat down next to her and stared intently across the table at Adam. “So. Which one of them called you?” he asked. “Eileen or Genevieve?”

Lie,
Genevieve silently begged Adam.

He didn’t. “Genevieve,” he said evenly.

Joe nodded. “Right. Well, this is a dangerous situation.”

“Maybe I can help,” Adam told him.

“Maybe Genevieve and Eileen should leave town for a while,” Joe said.

“Joe,” Gen began, ready to argue.

But Eileen laid her hand on her daughter’s arm to silence her and looked at Joe. “We could. But, Joe, if someone out there is determined that Genevieve or I should die, that someone will find us wherever we go. I believe it would be best to stay here and get to the bottom of this.”

“What did you discover today?” Adam asked Joe.

“Don was right. The killer did a much better job of imitating Poe this time,” Joe said.

His voice was cold and hard. Gen could only imagine what he had seen today. “You were in New Jersey all this time?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I’ve been at the hospital. To see Sam,” he said. He looked around the table, meeting their eyes as his gaze went to each of them in turn. “There was another attempt on his life.”

Gen told herself that it was natural for Joe to want some time alone, given everything he’d seen and done that day. But inside, she knew that his decision not to be with her tonight had nothing to do with the day he’d had and everything to do with the fact that she had called Adam—and he was too smart not to suspect why.

The good thing was that at least Joe seemed to trust the older man. Of course. He’d met Adam Harrison through Leslie. And at least Adam didn’t correct Joe’s apparent assumption that the three of them had all come to O’Malley’s together.

And so Joe left alone, after suggesting that Gen stay at her mother’s house that night.

Genevieve would have protested, but Eileen said, “Please, dear. Just tonight.”

So, an hour later, she was in the den, speaking with Adam, who had gone back with the women, ostensibly to make sure they were safe.

“He’s really angry that I called you,” she said.

“He had a bad day.”

“That’s not it,” she said.

“Have you ever been to an autopsy?” he asked her.

“No. But that’s still not it.”

“Genevieve…he just needs time alone.”

“Right. Because he thinks I’ve betrayed him somehow.”

“Give him time. Let’s talk about you.”

“Me? I had a nightmare,” she admitted.

“What was it about?”

She hesitated then, feeling as if someone had taken a cube of ice and run it straight down her spine. “It was about being strangled,” she said. “Oh, God.”

“Oh, God…what?”

“It was as if I…”

“Keep talking, Genevieve.”

“It was as if I were Lori Star. It was Sunday night. The night she disappeared. Oh, God, Adam, I might have been having that nightmare right when…right when she was actually being killed.” She gasped. “I saw her on the news, and that’s what she was saying. That it was like she was the driver of the car on the FDR. She felt anger and…intent. Malice.” She stopped speaking. Her skin was crawling, and she wanted to go back, to pretend that she hadn’t said what she had, that the horror would just go away.