by Jeanne Rose
Giving the man a thank you he paid no attention to, Adriana moved toward the musician. Val shadowed her so close she could feel his breath feather her hair. Her pulse raced like a locomotive. What was it about him that got her all stirred up?
She tried to put her attraction out of mind as she concentrated on the young man, who looked vaguely familiar. Undoubtedly, she’d seen him play somewhere. She introduced herself and her companions and told Louis they’d come about Eddie. He suggested they sit a minute. The old guy who was snoring woke up, gave the small group descending on him one look through bleary eyes and stumbled toward the stairs.
Adriana and Irina sat across from the musician. Though Val remained standing behind them in the shadows, she was fully aware of his presence.
“We were as good friends as could be considering the circumstances,” Louis was saying. “What happened to Eddie . . . God, no one should die like that.”
Adriana agreed. “Then you’d be willing to go to some kind of service for him.” An idea that had occurred to her.
“You bet. You just tell me where and when and I’ll show.”
“What about other people? Do you know of any out-of-town relatives? Other friends? We kind of lost touch lately.”
“I think he had people in Ohio somewhere. I could find a coupla musicians who’d want to pay their last respects.”
“Great.” Adriana was feeling a little better. Her quest hadn’t been in vain.
“I was always telling him to be more careful of who he trusted,” Louis was going on mournfully, his brown eyes sad. “He shoulda listened better.”
“Do you refer to someone in particular?” Val asked.
The young musician gave a start. He obviously hadn’t noticed Val. “I don’t know if it means anything, but I saw this guy give him money a coupla times in the past week or so. He slinked around. Know what I mean? Kinda weird?”
“What did this man look like?”
Louis shrugged. “Hard to tell. He always wore a big brimmed hat and a dark trench coat with a kinda cape thing attached.”
“Have you told this to the police?” Val asked.
“Sure. The detective in charge scribbled something in his little notebook, but I doubt he’ll sic the force on this guy.”
“Why not?”
“Where you been, man?” Louis gave Val an amazed once-over. “We got a disposable society, you know? If a human being don’t make some big contribution, where all kindsa people get stirred up over his death, his case gets a once over – just so the cops can say they did something – then pushed into a file drawer. One of those unsolved mysteries, like on television.”
Louis Brock was too young to be so cynical, and yet Adriana feared he spoke nothing but the truth. Hadn’t she told Val as much herself? Still, she reminded herself, finding a bloodless body wasn’t an every day occurrence and so had to get some attention.
“Listen, when we set up some kind of service, how can I let you know?” Adriana asked.
“Call here. I’ll get the message . . . if I’m still around. Me and my friends are real uptight about this situation.”
Adriana said, “You should keep to populated areas, shouldn’t travel around alone at night.” Thanking him, she led the way out of the hotel.
“Well, now we can go home,” Irina said, sounding relieved.
Adriana shook her head. “Not yet. First we have to go see Eddie.”
“You want to go to the morgue at this time of night?” The redhead sounded incredulous.
“I want to make sure they don’t . . . dispose of him . . . before we can set something up. If you want to go home, though, I understand.”
“And let you go alone? No way.”
“She will not be alone,” Val reminded Irina, moving in on Adriana purposefully. Her breath caught in her throat as his long fingers closed about her wrist.
“Uh-huh.” Giving the Hungarian another narrow-eyed look, Irina came up on Adriana’s other side. “Let’s get going.”
FOG SLITHERED along the south branch of the Chicago River, helping to camouflage the boat that was illegally docked outside a deserted warehouse. All was quiet, for it was barely ten. By midnight, the place would be teeming with life.
Low life, Miklos Rakosi thought, chuckling to himself, as he watched his men getting ready to set up.
For it was from the dregs of humanity that he earned his lucrative living. The numbers runners, the drug dealers, the pimps – they all came to him. Not that he interfered with their businesses. He had no need to tangle with organized crime. Nor to incur the wrath of the gangs that ran Chicago’s inner-city neighborhoods. He merely provided a service. Entertainment. A floating crap game.
By dawn, he’d be a little richer. And he’d be gone from this place like a wisp of the fog that was crawling up the sides of The Buckthorn. He never held a game on consecutive days, nor in the same place twice in a row. His days of the week varied as did his locations. Sometimes he even went as far south as Indiana. That way, he didn’t have to worry about any vice squads getting a secure bead on him.
He had enough to worry about with Valentin Kadar hot on his trail once more.
He thought of the medallion he always wore, the reason Kadar was after him. The metal and stone that gave him certain abilities . . . and that would keep him safe from evil that walked the dark centuries. Kadar would never get the
medallion . . . not as long as he was alive.
“Hey, boss, anything I can do?” asked Zeke, his personal bodyguard, as the burly man returned to the deck from the head.
“Yes, something important.” Miklos took a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “Find a phone and make a call for me.”
“Sure. So who do I talk to?”
“The authorities.”
Incredulous, Zeke asked, “You want me to call the cops?”
Knowing it went against the grain for a man who’d spent his entire adult life evading contact with the police, Miklos ran his thick fingers lovingly over the missive before he handed it over. “You will make an anonymous tip about a vicious crime, and you will read what I’ve written here.”
Circling his massive hand around the medallion, the reminder of who he was, Miklos Rakosi renewed his determination to do whatever was necessary to stop Valentin Kadar from endlessly pursuing him, once and for all.
WAITING TO IDENTIFY the body, Adriana, Irina and Val stood in a small sterile room with a big window and no furniture.
“This place gives me the creeps.” Irina glanced at Val furtively, no doubt including him in the statement.
Adriana was a little more than curious as to her friend’s reaction to Val and couldn’t wait to get the redhead alone to question her. Normally a person who gave strangers the benefit of the doubt, Irina was going against type where he was concerned. Though Adriana did remember Irina getting irrational about a waiter at the club one time, claiming he had “bad vibes.” She’d even insisted Frank fire the guy.
“We won’t be here long,” Adriana said. Her head was a bit light and she was having a little difficulty breathing.
“At least we don’t have to go into one of those rooms with the bodies stuffed in drawers like they show in movies.”
No, the closest they would get to Eddie would be the glass window, thank goodness.
Irina gestured. “There he comes.”
The attendant who was working with them wheeled a stainless steel cart carrying a wrapped burden before the window. Adriana closed her eyes as she realized Eddie lay in a body bag. The attendant unzipped the material. Adriana nearly choked. One look at the caricature of the gentle face now puckered and shrunken without blood was enough. She focused on a spot on the floor, aware of Irina’s quick intake of breath.
“I didn’t know how difficult it was going to be.”
“Wherever Eddie is, he appreciates your caring,” Irina said. Then she stiffened. “Hey, how did he get in there?”
Adriana looked up, shocked when she saw Val
on the other side of the window, standing mere inches from the body. She hadn’t even realized he’d disappeared from the viewing room. And how had he gotten where he didn’t belong? The attendant named Wendell had been specific about that being impossible.
At the moment, he was turned away from Val, clipboard in hand. He checked his watch and made an entry on a form.
“What’s Kadar doing?” Irina asked, voice trembling as Val bent over the corpse.
“I don’t know.” A bit in shock, she stared at Val. He was removing the sunglasses he’d worn since arriving at the brightly lit morgue. His face glowed pale under the fluorescents. “Getting a closer look at the marks on Eddie’s neck, I think.”
And as the attendant set down the clipboard, Val slipped the dark glasses back on and melted away, unnoticed. Wendell zipped up the bag and rolled the cart back out of sight.
“So where did Mr. Creepy disappear to?” Irina asked.
“He’s not creepy,” Adriana protested, even while silently admitting that Val had inspired the same reaction in her a couple of times. “He’s just different. European.”
“He’s more than that, Adriana.”
“Right, he’s Hungarian.”
“Still more. I have this strong feeling . . . “
”Feelings can be wrong.” Adriana didn’t want to hear any psychic predictions, especially negative ones about a man who attracted her so. She had enough doubts of her own to fight. “This is such a horrible, eerie situation, it’s easy to feel creepy about anyone.”
But Irina hardly seemed to be listening. “Kadar. I know I’ve heard that name somewhere . . . “
The redhead’s statement was cut off by the door opening behind them. Both women turned as Val reentered the room. Again, Irina stiffened. In contrast, as so often happened when she was near him, Adriana seemed to melt a little, felt the blood pulse through her veins, making her want to draw closer. A bit breathless, she was about to ask Val about his illicit actions, when the attendant poked his head inside, as well.
“You can come with me, now.”
A few minutes later they were seated around the morgue employee’s desk, Adriana between her two companions.
“So, you want to make arrangements to dispose of the remains?” Wendell asked. “The coroner already did an autopsy.”
“I’d like to plan some kind of service, certainly. Where will Eddie be buried?”
“Potter’s Field. Unless you actually want to claim him and bury him elsewhere,” Wendell said. “But I’ll warn you that’s gonna cost you a pretty penny. We’re talking thousands here.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
Not after Stone had skipped out on her, damn him, taking everything of value including her cash station card. He’d emptied her savings, and it had taken her the several months since to make enough money to replace her basic CDs and stereo equipment. She was only now starting to replenish her resources. Not wanting to see Eddie buried in Potter’s Field, though, she was actually thinking about scaring up the credit to give him a proper burial elsewhere.
Before she could say so, Val told Wendell, “Money will not be an object.”
Realizing that he was offering to pay, Adriana was a little shocked. “You didn’t even know him.”
“But I know you.” He removed the sunglasses again, and his golden gaze drove into her. I know you. “This would make you happy?”
Caught, she again went breathless. “Yes, but–”
”Then it is done.” Taking out a pen, he scribbled his name and address on a piece of paper – he lived in Uptown, a mid-north neighborhood that was crawling out of its decades-long collapse, she noticed – and handed the information to the attendant. “When he can be released, you will find me here.”
Wendell looked over the information. “No phone number?”
“I have no phone.”
The attendant frowned. “Hey, we don’t do door-to-door.”
Val caught his gaze and held it. “You will find me,” he stated, his voice convincing. “I will make the trouble worth your while.”
And when Wendell responded, “Worth my while,” as though hypnotized, Irina grabbed Adriana’s arm, her long nails biting into her flesh through the sweater.
Freeing herself, Adriana pulled a face at her friend. Irina was wearing an I-told-you-so expression. One Adriana chose to ignore. Val’s generosity for a stranger got to her. What was left of her former doubts retreated completely, taking a back seat to deep gratitude.
The interview over, they all rose. Irina headed straight for the door. Head going light, Adriana swayed. Val steadied her, his hand on her arm making her knees weaken further.
“You are all right?”
“Fine,” she promised. “I just can’t remember the last time I had a meal.” After hearing the news about Eddie upon awakening, she hadn’t even thought about food.
“Then you must eat. I shall see to it personally.”
A thrill shot through her at his tone. “Great. I know lots of late-night places,” Adriana said as they joined Irina, who seemed edgy, restless.
“I hope the taxi’s still waiting,” the redhead said, then glowered at Val. “Although you could probably conjure one if you gazed out into the night hard enough.”
“You speak to me?” Val asked, his voice cool.
Irina drew herself up to her full petite height. “I’m the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. I know certain things.” And she added, “You have no power over me.”
At that, Val laughed. “I shall keep that in mind, little gypsy.”
At least he wasn’t taking Irina seriously. Having thought about inviting her friend to eat with them, Adriana thought again. Irina and Val were like water and oil – they just didn’t mix. And she didn’t need any more of her friend’s strange, vague warnings while she was with the man. Irina didn’t usually mix fortune-telling with day-to-day life. She would have to talk to the other woman when they were alone, find out why she was so freaked.
But for now, she could only think about one thing – being alone with Val.
Maybe the man did have special powers . . .
ADRIANA THORN WAS a special woman, one Val knew he should stay away from. Still, a few minutes, after letting her annoying friend off at her apartment house, he found himself seated across from Adriana in a late night place a few blocks from her home, a fancy Gold Coast version of a steak’n’egger. They were tucked into a shadowy corner in the back of the room.
“I’m sorry about Irina,” Adriana said. “You probably think she’s rude.”
He appreciated such sensitivity, rarely encountering people who worried about his thoughts and feelings. “It was a painful evening for both of you.”
“Well, I’m glad you understand. She’s not usually like that.”
Val removed his sunglasses to gaze freely at the woman who fascinated him. She was not wearing her work disguise tonight. Her face was clean of make-up, the well-scrubbed look giving her a touch of innocence he hadn’t expected. Her clothing was simple, the deep red sweater revealing one enticing shoulder. Her skin was flawless, he noted, his gaze tracing a very slow, very erotic line to her sensual mouth, hesitating when it reached her lovely neck . . .
Then their waitress arrived, cutting off his view as she poured two cups of coffee. She set down the insulated pot and pulled her pad and pen from her apron.
She asked Adriana, “What’ll you have?”
“Scrambled eggs and hash browns with pancakes.”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“No, thanks. I don’t eat meat.”
“How about you, honey?” the waitress asked Val, who was slightly amused by the endearment.
“Steak and eggs, the eggs sunny side up–”
”And the steak?”
“I prefer very rare. Ask the chef to merely touch each side to the grill.”
Unable to hide a grimace, the waitress made a note on her pad, muttering, “Steak, still walking.”
She hurried away and Val concentrated on Adriana. “You are a vegetarian?”
“Since I was a kid. I eat dairy products and fish, but I never developed a taste for blood.” She sighed. “Which reminds me of Eddie. What an awful death. Killed by some maniac who thinks he’s a vampire.”
“Eddie wasn’t killed by a vampire.” Noting her startled look, he went on, “I examined his throat. The marks were not from teeth or fangs.”
“How did you get into that room anyway?”
He was thankful she hadn’t questioned him further about his knowledge of murder and pathology. “I opened the door. The attendant didn’t notice.”
“You can really sneak around if you want to.”
“I am light on my feet,” he agreed, watching her pour cream into her coffee, sip at it, make a face and reach for the sugar.
“I didn’t mean for you to pay for Eddie’s funeral, you know.”
“It’s nothing.”
She stirred the sugar into the coffee. “Yes, it is.” Her large gray eyes told him how much she thought of the gesture. “It’s very kind. And I wouldn’t have let you take the responsibility if I had the money in the bank. If you give me a little time, I can pay you back.”
“That will not be necessary, I assure you.” The money was nothing compared to the anticipation of seeing her a little happier than she was now.
“I actually had the money until a few months ago. Until that creep Stone ripped me off.”
Unsure of her meaning, he repeated, “Ripped you off?”
“Stole my cash station card and withdrew all my savings.” She took a sip of coffee and added, “Not to mention that he also took my CDs and stereo equipment. And most importantly, the special mixes I had produced for my work.”
“And you know the man who did this?”
“Stone Drake. He and I were . . . close.”
“The man you loved,” Val guessed, his mood darkening at her sad expression.
“Thought I loved,” she corrected. “He was a performance artist and a great actor. He fooled me good, I’m ashamed to admit. Here I thought I was a pretty good judge of character. I wouldn’t have given the real man the time of day.”