“Why?”
“Because I have work to do,” he said ruefully.
She stared at the drawn, but still striking, contours of his face and longed to touch him. “How did you happen to be there?” she marveled.
“I was afraid for you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But the doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation, and I think you should stay here.”
She stared back at him. And lied.
“Okay. Sure.”
He arched a skeptical brow. “Really?”
“Sure.”
“All right,” he said.
“My papers!” she exclaimed, sitting up suddenly.
“Your papers?”
“I had a bunch of copies from the library,” she said with dismay.
“Stuff you had from the library, huh? I’ll, uh, see if the paramedics collected your things,” Robert said. She could tell that he was humoring her. They all thought she was either insane or ungrateful. She had survived a fall onto the tracks when a train had been coming, saved by no more than a few seconds from a hideous death, and she was worried about some papers.
But…
It mattered. Somehow, it all mattered. And the “accidents” wouldn’t stop happening until she figured out why.
“Thank you, Robert,” she called after him as he left the exam room.
“Looks like I’ll be warning people to be careful on the subways tonight.” Ken Dryer squeezed her hand. “You sure you’re okay, kid? I know it’s my job, but I’m getting to be a regular on the news, and you seem to have a lot to do with it.”
“Thank God you’re good on TV,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
He left. Joe was still tarrying, but before he could say anything, Robert returned to the room. “Some kind citizen apparently gathered your purse and whatever papers they could find. The nurses will see that your things are returned.” He stared at her, then at Joe, then at her again. “You know…I’d been anxious to see you myself. I thought maybe you could help with the missing hookers. But now…I think you ought to leave town.”
“Leave town? I’m in the middle of a project,” Leslie protested.
Robert shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m not leaving town,” she said firmly. “Robert, please. This is ridiculous. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. The subway was a zoo. That’s it. That’s all. Okay?”
He looked at her, shook his head, started out, then turned back. “Stay safe,” he said firmly. He shot Joe a look that seemed to blame him, then left.
She noticed that Joe looked thoughtful as he watched the other man leave. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” He turned back to her, leaning over her, arms braced on either side of the mattress. “I need to know. I need to know a lot. You are going to stay here, right?”
“You bet. As soon as they find me a room, I’ll catch a nice nap. Some nice candy striper will bring me tea and lunch. It will be great.”
“It had better be,” he warned. And then, at last, he left her.
To Joe’s amazement, Didi was still waiting for him at Starbucks. She was with another woman.
“Joe!” Didi called when he entered, and stood, smiling.
“You waited all this time,” he said.
“I knew you’d come.”
“And who is this?” Joe asked politely.
She was tiny, blond and blue-eyed. She looked a little edgy, though.
“Do you want some coffee?” he asked, trying to put her at ease.
“Heidi wants a cigarette,” Didi said.
Joe’s eyes riveted on the woman. “You’re Heidi Arundsen?”
She nodded nervously. Her size and delicate bone structure made her look young. But there was a tension about her, a strain, that showed her age.
“Go ahead. There are some tables outside. I’m going to get myself some coffee. Can I get you ladies something while I’m at it?”
He expected an answer of “Just regular coffee.” Maybe with cream or sugar. But Heidi wanted a double latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup and fat-free milk. Didi was into a grande mocha, two pumps only, no whipped cream, and a piece of coffee cake.
In line, he chafed. But he had no intention of scaring Heidi away from spilling whatever she might be able to tell him. So he waited. And he was careful to get the order right. When he joined the two women at the table, he sat down casually, asked if he’d gotten everything right, then waited.
“Heidi saw the car, too,” Didi informed him.
“The dark sedan?” he asked.
Heidi looked at Didi, as if for reassurance. Then she turned back to Joe. “It wasn’t just dark, it was black. Tinted windows. Like Betty Olsen.”
It took him a second to shift gears. Then the name registered as one he’d seen in the files about the missing prostitutes. Betty Olsen had disappeared approximately a month before Genevieve O’Brien. Betty hadn’t been listed in Genevieve’s case folders, but Heidi had been interviewed after Betty was reported missing.
“Betty was a friend of yours?”
“Betty lived in my building. I was out with her, chatting on the street, you know. And I saw her get into the black sedan. And that was the last time I saw her. Black,” she repeated. “I know it was black.”
“You don’t remember the make or model?”
Heidi shook her head. “It was sleek-looking.”
“Sleek…clean, in good shape, that kind of thing?”
“Yes.”
“Like some kind of official car?”
“Maybe,” she said, but she sounded uncertain. “I’ve seen hundreds of cars like it on the street. To tell you the truth, a couple things ran through my mind. I was thinking the dude probably had money. And I was thinking Betty might have known him, ’cuz she didn’t stand by the window negotiating, just got right in.”
Joe leaned back, puzzled. Who would have been driving around in a black sedan who knew both Genevieve O’Brien and a prostitute so well that they would both just jump in the car with him?
“I wish I could tell you more,” Heidi said.
“Tell me more about Betty,” he said.
Heidi looked sad and shook her head. “Well, for one thing, her name wasn’t really Betty. She was in the country illegally. She couldn’t get a regular job because…she doesn’t have a social security number, and she doesn’t pay taxes.” She sniffed. “She lives in my building because the landlord is an asshole who doesn’t ask questions ’cuz it’s a roach motel. Half the tenants just name the rats and pretend they’re pets. Genevieve talked to her one time about a way for her to get the right papers so she could stay in the country.” She hesitated, looking at Didi again. “I’m the one who called the police. I called from the pay phone down the street. But they wanted me to fill out a lot of forms, and…anyway, they didn’t do nothing. But I got Maria Rodriguez from my building to go down and file a report. She even took a day off work to do it. Didi and I made the time up for her, though. She scrubs floors.” She hesitated, a strange look on her face. “Are you thinking Didi and I should scrub floors, too? That anything would be better than what we do? Maria has a scar and she’s self-conscious, otherwise she’d be out here, too. Don’t fool yourself that there aren’t a lot of women out there tired of scrubbing and more than willing to hit the streets.”
“Heidi, I wasn’t about to judge you, I swear. I’m grateful for whatever you can tell me.”
Heidi leaned back, not looking quite so friendly. “Right. ’Cuz this time a rich girl disappeared.”
“Heidi, I was hired because a rich girl disappeared. I hope I can stop whatever is happening so no more girls disappear, rich or poor.”
“Don’t forget the Mimic,” Didi said.
Heidi waved a hand in the air. “When he dressed up, the Mimic was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. He was taken by accident, I bet.” She stared hard at Joe. “And they’re dead, aren’t they? They�
�re all dead. And you know what? I told the cops Betty disappeared in a black sedan, a nice sedan, but they think she disappeared after that. Even though they never found anyone who saw her after me. Why don’t people ever want to believe that rich people can be perverts? Those assholes are looking for a bum, a dealer…some low-life creep.”
“Heidi, believe me, the cops aren’t fools. They put policewomen out on the streets for a while, right?”
Heidi let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, they did. But I never saw that car when those girls were around. Though…hey!” She sat back suddenly, staring at him. “I know you.”
“You do?”
“You’re dead.” Her mouth opened in an O. “I saw your picture in the paper.”
“You saw my cousin’s picture in the paper. He was in the paper a lot. He wrote a column. He was killed last year in an explosion at Hastings House.”
“Hastings House?” Heidi murmured.
“Do you know something about Hastings House?”
Heidi shrugged sadly. “No…but I remember Betty saying how Genevieve wanted to go to that party thing there last year—the one that ended up with that explosion. She told Betty some snooty society friend of her aunt’s was in charge but she wasn’t going to beg to be invited. She used to walk by the place all the time, though.”
Those words stunned him into silence. He wasn’t sure what this new information meant, if anything, but it was a link. A tenuous link.
A “link” that might mean nothing.
Lots of people walked past historic sites. Some people walked by them every day, hurrying to work, never noticing them. But others loved the fact that they could walk by places that had a history, that meant something.
“I see,” he said at last. What the hell did he see?
“Heidi, is there anything else?” Didi asked for him.
“I don’t think so….” She brightened suddenly. “I have Betty’s things. That bastard landlord just dumped them in the hall, so I I took them. Just in case she came back, you know? You can see them. I mean, if you’re interested.”
“I would love to go through Betty’s things.”
“I told you—I live in a roach motel.”
“I’ll see if I can kill a few for you. Lead the way.”
Leslie did stay at the hospital. She stayed for two hours. Then she checked herself out, collected her belonging and discovered that she had a dozen messages on her cell phone. One of them was from Brad, and she hastily called him as soon as she reached the street—determined to catch a cab and not ride the subway again, at least not that day.
He answered his phone immediately and went off on a tirade. What had happened to her? Why hadn’t she made sure someone called him? Was she all right? He was furious that he’d had to hear about what happened on the news. How could she do this to him?
“Brad, you’re being dramatic.”
“Really? Do you remember calling me, asking me to meet you this afternoon?” he demanded.
“And I still want to meet you. At Hastings House.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You almost died today.”
“But I didn’t. And I’m fine. I’m on my way to Hastings House now. Are you coming?”
“All right. I’ll beat you there.”
He did.
He was lounging on the porch with Melissa when the cab dropped her off.
They both rushed to the curb to help her from the cab. It took her twenty minutes and more energy than she had to spare to convince Melissa that she was all right. Then she led Brad down to the basement, where she showed him the wall and the bones, and the records she had copied from the library, then told him what she wanted him to do.
He stared at her. He almost looked as if he were frightened of her.
“Shit. This is getting uncanny.”
“Brad, I’ve studied the history of this house. It will work.”
He shook his head. “You want me to pretend that I just walked into Hastings House and started on the basement wall with a pickax because I knew that I’d find bones?”
She took a step back from him, frowning. Actually, yes, that was exactly what she wanted.
“Um…”
“You’re too good at this, and it’s getting scary,” he informed her.
“Brad, please?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What does Wonder Boy think about all this?”
“Wonder Boy?”
“Joe.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said.
“Sorry. I guess I’m jealous.”
“He’s been a very good friend.”
“So have I.”
“I know that, Brad.”
“Sorry. But what does he think? I mean, is he getting a little freaked out, too?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I can’t keep pretending to be in on all your discoveries—especially not when someone else knows the truth.”
She started to laugh. “I think you don’t mind doing it, you just don’t want to get caught.”
“Something like that,” he admitted, laughing suddenly. “Okay, I’m pathetic. I love to get the credit. But it’s not mine.”
“I don’t want any credit. I just want things…taken care of. Look, I know who this woman is. Her husband murdered her and told the world she’d left him. We need to bring the truth to light.”
He was silent for a moment, his head lowered. “All right. You read the records, got me to do the same. We shared some logic and a hunch. We’ll prove who she is when we make the announcement, and we’ll get her a nice burial with all the right…whatever. Like I’m sure it makes a difference, all these years later.”
“It makes a difference,” Leslie insisted.
He sighed. “All right. Tomorrow we’ll make the announcement and arrange to have the bones removed. I’ll find a reporter and a priest—Episcopalian? Do we know that?”
“We’ll assume. New York at the time…mostly Episcopalian.”
He shook his head. “The crypt you discovered is shored up now. Laymon is going to be going insane to move in that direction, too. And now you’re going to be more famous than ever—she has second sight, and she survived a cave-in and a subway accident. People will be talking.”
“Brad, come on.”
“That’s not me, Leslie. That’s just what people are going to say.”
She let out a soft sigh. “Just help me, okay?”
“I’ll do my best. Hey, if you get any better at this ESP thing, maybe you can pick us some winning lottery numbers.”
“I’ve discovered bones, Brad. Not riches.”
“Yeah, so work on that, will you?” He looked exasperated, then pulled her to him and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Leslie…shit. I like you, but you really have gotten…eerie.”
“Thanks a lot, Brad.”
“I don’t mean anything bad by that, honestly.”
“Right. I’m creepy, but that’s not bad.”
He grinned. “No, you’re creepy good,” he assured her. “All right, I’m going to get out of here. Get the ball rolling.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated. “Brad…at the site, when you found me, unconscious…”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You and Laymon arrived at the exact same time?”
“Yeah, why?”
She shook her head. “No reason.”
Brad suddenly frowned deeply. “Are you going to ask where I was today?” he demanded.
She stared back at him, stunned.
“Nowhere near the subway,” he said curtly.
“Oh, Brad! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…actually, I was hoping you’d seen someone,” she murmured.
“No. There was no other way in, no other way out. No one suspicious, and guards all over the site, Leslie. You know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’d die before I’d hurt you, Leslie,” he said. “And I’m a coward,” he added ruefully.
She stepped forward, kis
sing his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Well, I’d better get going. I’m supposed to meet Laymon for dinner.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anthony’s, just down the street. He doesn’t like to leave the area. You know Laymon. He’s always convinced someone is after his discovery.”
“And he can catch them from a restaurant?” she asked, amused.
Brad shrugged. “I guess he figures he can get back to the site quickly if he has to.”
“Think I should go with you?”
“If you want. Or I can tell him you’re sore from the subway thing.”
“No…I’ll run up and take a shower. And call and invite Joe.”
“Joe. Yeah. Sure.”
“Hey, he’s helping.”
Brad took a deep breath. “Helping? Or reminding you of Matt every single second?”
“They’re two very different people, and I know that, Brad.”
“Are you sure of that?” Brad persisted gently.
“Joe is helping.”
“Joe’s convinced the explosion here was intentional,” Brad said wearily.
“Maybe it was.”
“Who the hell would gain from it?” Brad said.
She wondered if she should be dead honest when she was alone with him in a small underground room, then told herself not to be ridiculous. Melissa knew where they were, not to mention she had worked with Brad for years.
“Maybe someone was trying to kill Matt.”
“And didn’t care about hurting a houseful of other people?”
“A lot of people couldn’t care less about who gets in the way when they have a goal in mind.”
“Why kill Matt?”
“Because his voice mattered.”
Brad looked down for a minute, then took a step toward her. To her amazement, he almost lost his balance and nearly fell face forward on top of her. She jumped, and he swore. “Where the hell did that box come from?” he demanded irritably.
She reached out, steadied him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and retreated. “Let’s go on up.” She hurried toward the stairs, suddenly afraid that he was going to drag her back.
He didn’t. He followed her up, asking, “So you’re coming to dinner?”
“I think so. If I change my mind, I’ll call your cell.”
The Dead Room Page 20