by Dan Willis
“I was planning on picking up something for a friend anyway,” Alex said, indicating the shop on Romero’s ground floor. “Grab the oils when you’re done and meet me inside.”
Arnold gave him a smile and a nod and headed up the street toward the corner. Alex got out of the car and headed for the shop. The word ‘Romero’s’ was emblazoned above the door with absolutely nothing to explain what was sold inside. Alex guessed the Italian must be famous enough that no other words were needed. He started to understand Sherry’s excitement and he imagined he could hear his wallet groaning in response.
Inside, he found the dazzling array of chrome and glass shelves with their display of colorful, elaborate bottles. There weren’t any price tags on the items and as soon as Alex picked one up to look on the bottom, a pretty blonde salesgirl appeared at his elbow.
“Looking for something special?” she said. She had a midwestern accent with a slight rural twang, large blue eyes, and freckles on her nose.
“Just something for a friend,” he said, giving her his sincere smile.
“Then I’d suggest these shelves over here,” she said, leading Alex to one side. The bottles on the two shelves she indicated were smaller and not as decorative, but they were still impressive.
“These are twenty dollars,” the girl said, indicating the rack on the left. “And these are forty.”
Alex about dropped his hat. When he’d first hired Leslie, the rent on her apartment was only forty dollars a month. Alex could afford to buy one of these expensive bottles these days, but the frugality of former times still had a firm hold on his wallet. Paying that much for perfume seemed ridiculous.
“How good a friend are we talking about?” the girl asked.
“It’s for my secretary,” he said.
Immediately her smile went from helpful and sincere to conspiratorial.
“Oh,” she said in a manner that spoke volumes. “And what kind of relationship are we talking about?”
Alex cleared his throat.
“Professional,” he insisted.
The girl nodded her head, seeming to take his words at face value.
“Then I’d contain your attention to the left-hand shelf,” she said, indicating the cheaper perfumes. If a twenty-dollar bottle of oil and water could be called cheap.
“Why?” he asked before realizing he probably didn’t want the answer.
“These say that you’re proud of your secretary’s work and value her as an employee,” the girl explained. “While these,” she indicated the right-hand shelf, “might be taken to mean that you’re interested in…more than a professional relationship.”
Alex nodded his head, understanding.
“What do those say?” he asked, pointing back at the shelves of elaborate bottles where he’d been standing before.
The girl smirked.
“Those would be considered an indecent proposal,” she said.
Alex reached up and took a dark blue bottle from the left-hand shelf. He had no idea what scent it contained, but he doubted it would matter, and the bottle’s color matched Sherry’s eyes.
“I’d better take this one then,” he said.
Alex was back at his office in less than an hour, but it felt like a lot more time had passed. Enzo Romero had thanked him profusely and repeatedly, and the time seemed to crawl by at the same lackadaisical pace as the last horse he’d bet on.
“Boss?” Sherry said, catching sight of the large gift bag with the word Romero’s stenciled on the side. The look on her face told him she hadn’t really expected him to get her anything.
“How could I disappoint the best secretary in the world?” he said, reaching into the bag and pulling out the dark blue box wrapped with silver ribbon. It was, without a doubt, the fanciest gift Alex had ever given anyone.
Sherry set the elaborate box down on the desk with the same kind of reverence that demolition experts reserve for sweaty dynamite. It was so fancy she didn’t even want to untie the ribbon.
Alex set the bag down on her desk with a thump and dropped his hat next to it. Sherry looked up from her prize and gave the bag a suspicious look.
“What else did you buy?” she asked, trying not to hide a smirk. “Something for your evening with Miss Kincaid?”
Alex rolled his eyes, then pulled a somewhat larger, sky blue box out of the bag. It had alternating stripes of dark and light blue around the sides and the whole thing was bound in a glittering silver ribbon. The name Stardust was printed in a blank oval on the front of the box and Sherry’s eyes went wide when she read it.
“Wow,” Sherry said. “She must really be mad for you to drop that kind of cash.”
“It was a gift from Mr. Romero,” Alex explained. “He gave a bottle of perfume to Detective Arnold, for his wife, and then asked me if I was married.”
Sherry nodded sagely, understanding blooming across her face.
“You mentioned you were going out with New York’s preeminent sorceress?” she guessed. “And he insisted on giving you something fancy?”
Alex chuckled.
“How’d you know?”
“That’s Stardust,” she said, nodding at the label on the light blue box. “You wouldn’t know, of course, but it’s Enzo Romero’s new fragrance. There are ads for it in all the magazines, and absolutely no one can get it.”
Alex considered that for a moment. He hadn’t known about the perfume being hard to get, but it made sense. Enzo wanted Sorsha wearing his perfume. If she liked it, and kept wearing it, word would get out and that would be good for Enzo’s bottom line.
“Think Sorsha will like it?” he asked, suddenly unsure. Sorsha was an amazingly attractive woman, but she had certain modern sensibilities, wearing men’s clothes and such. Would she even wear a fancy perfume?
Sherry read the expression on his face and laughed.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “Just don’t tell her Mr. Romero gave it to you.”
Now it was Alex’s turn to laugh.
“Don’t worry about that,” he repeated her admonition. “I was born at night, but not last night.”
“Well, I’m going to take this home and open it there,” Sherry said, standing and heading to the coat rack for her hat.
“And I need to see Dr. Bell before I meet Sorsha,” Alex said, picking up the Romero’s bag and putting on his grey fedora. “May I walk you out, Miss Knox?”
He offered her his arm and she took it.
“Why Mr. Lockerby, I thought you’d never ask.”
13
The Rainbow Room
Iggy was out in the greenhouse tending his orchids when Alex came down the brownstone stairs a few minutes later. Normally at this hour the air would be thick with the smell of cooking, Iggy’s other passion. Today, however, the kitchen was dark and empty of pots, pans, and utensils.
“I figured that since you were going out, I’d take the night off,” Iggy answered Alex’s questioning look. “I think I might even go down to the Lunch Box. I haven’t seen Mary in quite a while.”
“Say hi for me.”
Alex pulled out one of the heavy oak chairs from the kitchen table and moved it near the open door. The greenhouse had been added to the back of the kitchen when Iggy bought the house, and it was really only big enough for a small growing table down each side and one at the end. A narrow aisle ran down the center with enough space between the end of the rightmost table and the back table for a small padded chair.
After tending the plants, Iggy would sit and read during the daylight hours, enjoying the heady fragrance of the flowers.
“I assume that since you have a date that you’re not getting ready for, you have something you wish to discuss,” Iggy said, closing his book and setting it aside.
Alex paused, attempting to order his thoughts on the day’s events.
“How did it go with the blood rune?” Iggy asked, attempting to prod the discussion. “Were you able to remove the symbol painted on top?”
/> “Turns out someone did that for me,” Alex said. “They went a bit overboard, though.”
Alex explained about the demise of the shack where Katherine Biggs had lived and his suspicions. When he finished, Iggy just sat, stroking his mustache with his thumb.
“Iggy?” Alex asked when a minute had passed.
“I want to tell you to drop this case,” he said with a sigh. “That much backlash…whatever your killer was doing, it must have been immensely powerful.”
“And equally dangerous,” Alex added.
Iggy nodded sagely.
“He’s lucky the construct didn’t explode.”
“What was he trying to do?” Alex asked. “What would require that kind of power?”
“Nothing good,” Iggy said, then he got up and made his way out of the greenhouse. “You need to be careful.” He put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “The next time he kills, the crime scene could crumble at any time. If you’re there when that happens…”
He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to. Iggy had used a temporal restoration rune on the remains of a chicken when he first explained the concept of backlash. Alex vividly remembered Iggy touching the crumbling bird with a pencil and watching the corruption swarm up the pencil until it threatened to engulf Iggy’s hand. With something as small as a chicken, the backlash wouldn’t have gone very far, but if Iggy had let it touch him, he might have lost a finger. Alex got the message — backlash wasn’t something a runewright should take lightly.
“I’ve got to warn Danny,” Alex said. “He and his men need to stay clear of any new crime scenes.”
“You be careful too,” Iggy said, squeezing Alex’s shoulder hard. “I know you’re going to want to figure out what the blood rune is, but if you feel the magic starting to give way, you get out of there. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said. If the blood rune was actually a rune, Alex would be able to feel it as its power began to unravel. “What if it’s not a rune, though? What if it’s something else?”
Iggy thought about that for a second, then released Alex’s shoulder.
“Well, it’s not alchemy, so that only leaves sorcery,” he said. “Why don’t you ask your date about it?” He pulled out his pocketwatch and flipped open the cover. “Speaking of which…”
“Right,” Alex said. He still needed to shower and change into his tuxedo. The Rainbow Room didn’t require black tie specifically, but he knew Sorsha would be dressed to the nines, and she’d be upset if he didn’t make an effort.
“I’ll do some reading in the Monograph,” Iggy said as Alex turned to head back to the stairs. “Maybe there’s something about backlash in there that we’ve missed.”
Alex grunted noncommittally. He’d been through the Archimedean Monograph enough to know there wasn’t anything in there Iggy had missed, but he needed all the help he could get, so better safe than sorry.
Alex arrived at the door to Sorsha’s high-rent office promptly at six forty-five. That gave him plenty of time to catch a cab to the RCA building and still make their seven o’clock reservation. He needed to meet Sorsha at her office, since her home was floating over the East River, and so far no one had started a floater-based taxi service.
Since he had arranged to meet her there, he wasn’t surprised to find the lights on in the front office of Kincaid Enterprises. When he opened the door, however, he found three men in identical dark suits waiting inside. Alex didn’t have to be a detective to recognize them as Feds, probably part of Sorsha’s FBI detail.
As Alex came in, the nearest man rose and stepped in front of him. He wasn’t as tall as Alex, but the man had the kind of broad shoulders and heavy arms usually associated with wrestlers. From what Alex could see of the man’s hands, they were thick and calloused, with stubby fingers and scars across the back. Clearly this man was used to fighting with his hands.
“And just who are you?” the brawler demanded.
Alex introduced himself, plastering a friendly smile on his face. He’d been to Sorsha’s office before, even when FBI agents were present, but he’d never been stopped at the door. Still, it was after business hours, so maybe the brawler was just being careful.
“Stand down, Agent Hill,” the voice of Agent Aissa Mendes came from off to Alex’s left.
He turned to see the curly-haired Agent emerge from the back hallway. Mendes was a little taller than Sorsha, with olive skin, dark eyes and an exuberant attitude that Alex attributed to her youth. She was part of a pilot program that let women become FBI agents and she had a fierce desire to prove herself.
“Is this the guy?” Agent Hill asked, jerking his thick thumb at Alex.
Mendez gave Alex a smile and nodded.
“He’s harmless.”
“You and I both know that’s not true,” Agent Redhorn disagreed, coming through the door after his partner. “But he is the one Miss Kincaid is waiting for.”
Redhorn was Mendes’ trainer and the one who would decide whether or not she got the recommendation that would make her a full-fledged agent. The man had always been a paradox to Alex. Outwardly, he was the epitome of control. He spoke in a gruff but non-threatening voice, dressed in pressed shirts with creased trousers, and exuded the kind of professionalism that the Bureau would be proud of. That said, something about the man just made Alex wary, like if that façade of pleasant neutrality ever cracked, it would release a raging beast.
As the pair of them came into the office lobby, Alex noted that neither moved with their usual energetic stride. A quick look around at the other agents in the room confirmed that they all appeared to be on the brink of exhaustion.
“What’s the good word, Redhorn?” Alex asked, deciding to fish a little for information.
“Mind your business,” Redhorn retorted, slumping down onto one of the leather couches that surrounded the empty desk where Sorsha’s receptionist normally sat.
Alex was about to push a little when the hall door opened again and Sorsha emerged. She was breathtaking in a cocktail dress that was so deeply purple that it was almost black, which clung to her modest curves exquisitely. A necklace of heavy gold links supported a teardrop-shaped ruby that was dark, like the dress, and she wore high heels to bring her up to a decent height next to Alex. Her makeup was as subtle as ever, though Alex noticed her eyebrows, which she drew in on account of her platinum blonde hair, had been done in a more approving style than usual. The only excess she wore was her usual burgundy lipstick, though in keeping with the outfit, she appeared to have darkened it as well. A wrap of some dark fur completed the ensemble and she stood for a moment, framed in the doorway so Alex could take her in.
“You look lovely this evening, Miss Kincaid,” Alex said, deciding a formal address went better with her attire.
“You clean up well yourself,” she shot back with a sultry half-smile.
She crossed the space and took Alex’s arm, sweeping him along with her toward the door.
“What do you want us to do while you’re out?” Redhorn asked, standing as Sorsha passed.
“Send everyone home. We’ll pick it up in the morning,” she said. “That includes you,” Sorsha added. “Everyone spend time with your families, and get a good night’s sleep.”
Redhorn looked like he wanted to argue, but Sorsha kept moving, and he just nodded.
“What was all that about?” Alex asked as they rode the express elevator down to the street to catch cab.
Sorsha’s expression soured and she sighed.
“Nothing that concerns you,” she said, patting him on the cheek as one might a child. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to keep you busy without butting into my affairs.”
Alex raised one eyebrow comically high as he regarded the sorceress with a smirk.
“Wow, it must be a very interesting case for you to be trying to get rid of me this early.”
Sorsha smirked in return, then let out a genuine laugh.
“I wish it were,” she said. “I’m j
ust putting together a security detail for some Washington officials who are visiting.”
That revelation was puzzling, to say the least. Sorsha was far too intelligent and savvy to have difficulty with something as simple as a security detail.
“It’s not the security, it’s all the government rules and red tape,” she admitted when Alex protested. “Every time I think I’ve got things nailed down, the government types come up with some new wrinkle.” She sighed and leaned against him. “It’s exhausting.”
“I hadn’t heard that Roosevelt was coming to town,” he half-joked.
Sorsha looked up at him, her smirk firmly back in place.
“He’s not,” she said. “And I told you to stop nosing in.”
Alex was enjoying sparring with Sorsha, but at that moment the elevator chimed and the door opened. He led her across the vast lobby of the Chrysler Building and hailed a cab out front. Ten minutes later they were riding the elevator to the roof of the RCA Building where the famous Rainbow Room nightclub waited for them.
“Alex,” a slender man in a silk tuxedo called when he and Sorsha entered the crowded waiting area. The man’s name was Benedict Faulkner and Alex had helped him break up the impending marriage of his sister to a no-good lowlife. Benny had promised to get Alex into the exclusive club and as the Maitre D’, he had that kind of pull.
“I have your table prepared,” Benny said, smiling and nodding as he directed Alex and Sorsha into the massive open space that formed the nightclub. “Right this way.”
The Rainbow Room had windows on three sides with a breathtaking view of the city. Tables radiated out from a circular dance floor in the center of the room, with the most exclusive tables being the ones along the windows. Occasionally the nightclub would have performers in to dance, sing, or both, and then the best tables were the ones near the dance-floor-turned-stage.