“No, it isn’t.” She glanced away.
Was that a bit of a conscience I detected? My temper ratcheted back a bit, and for the first time since I’d bumped into this ectoplasmic nuisance, I found myself thinking that beneath all that academic horseshit, there actually might be a compassionate person—in a very dead way, of course.
“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she said. “It’s clear to me that you have feelings for Danny, and . . .” She brushed aside the comment, and it was just as well. I was in no mood to go another couple rounds with her while I tried to make her understand all the things about my relationship with Dan that I didn’t understand myself.
“You had to see them together,” Madeline said. “It was the only way I could prove to you that they know each other, that they’re working together. I hoped that when you did—”
“You could tell me the rest of the story.”
She nodded. “So what are you going to do now?” she asked.
I marched across the room and grabbed the Chicago Transit map I’d picked up at the concierge desk in the middle of the night when pacing around the nearly deserted hotel struck me as a better idea than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.
“Do? I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I’m going to use public transportation,” I told her.
I didn’t bother trying to explain. There was no way I could make her understand that the very notion struck more terror in my heart than any ghost ever had.
My plan hit its first speed bump the minute I was off the elevator and into the lobby. That’s when Doris spotted me and closed in.
“Aren’t you the eager beaver!” She said this like Ella would have. Like it was a good thing. “But you don’t need your coat yet, honey. The tour of Rosehill Cemetery isn’t until this afternoon. We’ve got the welcoming speech from the conference chair first, and then the morning break-out sessions start. What are you going to?” She flipped through the conference program she had clutched in one hand. It was already well-worn, and a number of the pages had their corners bent to mark them. “Legislative Update on Land Management sounds terrific, of course, but I can buy the tape of that session. I’m thinking I’ll do either Burial Rights or Flag Etiquette. How about you?”
“Flag Etiquette.” I answered without thinking, and when she chirped in with, “Then I’ll come along,” I amended it to, “Burial Rights.”
“It’s hard to make up your mind when all the sessions sound so good, isn’t it?” Doris waved to someone across the lobby, and though I hoped that meant our little meeting was officially at an end, she never left my side. “I know what I’ll be going to later in the week.” She grinned when she said this and opened her booklet to a page where she had the talk on Resurrectionists circled in red. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Partly because I know it’s Ella’s topic. Ella’s research is always impeccable and her sources . . . well . . . they just blow me away! But I’ll tell you, kiddo, I’m anxious to hear you speak, too. I’ve got a feeling that with a couple more years under your belt, you’re going to be a powerful force in the cemetery business.”
I wasn’t sure what made me queasier, her prediction or the thought of standing up in front of a room filled with people and reading the inch-high report Ella had sent to Chicago with me. Rather than worry about either, I sidestepped toward the revolving door that led out to the street. “I’ll be back in time for Burial Rights,” I said, lying through my teeth with an ease that can only come from long practice. “I’ve just got to run out for a bit and . . .”
Lucky for me, I wasn’t obliged to finish. Grant showed up with Myra and the rest of the bunch we’d had dinner with the night before, and while they were busy chatting, I slipped out of the hotel.
My luck held. The nearest L station was close, and the transit system was far easier to navigate than I imagined any big city’s public transportation could be. Without too much incident (and being careful not to get too close to any of the folks on the train who looked as grimy as the guy who’d accosted me the night before), I got out at the right station and followed the directions I’d printed from the hotel’s computer.
The closer I got to my destination, the more folks I saw who looked like Mr. Homeless. It wasn’t hard to see why. The neighborhood was as shabby as the people who shambled by. I ignored a guy sleeping in a doorway and pretended not to notice the one taking a pee in an alleyway. Instead, I double-checked the address on that same computer printout and stopped directly across the street from the Gerard Clinic.
What was I planning to do now that I was there?
It was exactly what I’d been asking myself, and the answer was pretty much that I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might—maybe—go inside and see if Dan was around, and if he was, that I might—maybe—find a way to warn him that he might—maybe—be in trouble. If I could accomplish all that, then I might—maybe—try to talk some sense into him without confessing that I had the inside scoop on the dirty dealings going on there from a person who worked at the clinic before she was dead.
Just thinking about it all made my head hurt.
Before I had a chance to give in to the pain or the nervousness that drummed through me when I wondered how I was going to pull it all off, I stepped off the curb to cross the street. When I did, something caught my eye. Or I should say more accurately, someone. He was standing in the alleyway between the clinic and the building next door, and I recognized the dirty Army jacket and the weird, spiky hair in an instant. Yeah, that’s right—it was the same panhandler I’d run into outside of Piece.
Not so unusual, since as ragged as he was, he fit right into the neighborhood. But considering how far I was from where I’d been the night before, it struck me as a tad odd to find him loitering. So did the fact that he took one look at me and took off like a bat out of hell.
I tried to follow, but let’s face it, athletics is not my strong suit. By the time I dodged traffic and got to the other side of the street, I was out of breath and Homeless Guy had already rounded the nearest corner. There was no way I was going to catch him, so there was no use even trying.
“You know that guy?”
The question came from behind me in a deep baritone voice, and I turned just as a man emerged from the alley. He was tall and thin, wearing a gray raincoat that had seen better days and one of those flat-topped, brimmed tweed caps that looks like it should be on the head of some guy drinking in an Irish pub. His skin was the color of strong coffee, his eyes were dark, and when he looked where I was looking, his eyes lit with a spark of curiosity. “He a friend of yours?”
I nearly said something along the lines of “Not a chance, considering the guy who ran is a homeless panhandler and I do not associate with the likes of him.” I stopped myself just in time when I realized the man who stepped out of the alley was a homeless panhandler, too. The hell with being politically correct; I was not about to get myself in trouble in a neighborhood where I clearly did not belong.
“A friend? Nope.” I tucked my hands into my pockets and took a step back and away from the mouth of the alleyway. There were smells coming out of it that were less than pleasant, and I was no fool. Though the guy in the raincoat seemed friendly enough, I wasn’t going to take the chance of getting mugged. “He looks plenty familiar, though. Do you know him?”
“Seen him hanging around.” The man in the raincoat shifted his gaze and gave me a careful once-over. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
“No. It’s my first time.” I took another step back. “I’m here to see one of Doctor Gerard’s assistants.”
“You applying for a job?”
It seemed as good an excuse as any. “Maybe,” I told him. “Are there any openings?”
He rocked back on his heels. “Can’t say for sure, but when you get inside, maybe you could put in a good word for me. The name’s Ernie.” For the first time, I noticed he was carrying something tucked under his right arm. He shifted it and stuck out his hand. He was
n’t wearing gloves.
Eager for information and with no options, I shook his hand. “A good word? Are you looking for work here, too?”
Ernie’s laugh was full-bodied. “Don’t think I’m qualified,” he said. “Alberta, now she would fit in perfect at the clinic.” He reached for what was now tucked under his left arm and turned it toward me, and I saw that it was a photograph in a beat-up frame. It showed a smiling African American woman wearing a neat suit and a string of pearls. I’m not much for history, but from her clothing and her hairdo, I guessed the picture was taken back in the seventies. “She’s an educated woman, my Alberta. Works at the library, over at the Scottsdale branch.” He paused, and when he gave the photo a long look, his eyes misted. “A real educated woman,” he said.
The way his voice faded, I could tell I was going to lose him if I didn’t act fast. “So, you want me to put in a good word for you, huh? Sure, I can do that.”
Ernie tucked the picture back where it came from. “You think? That would be real nice. I tried to talk to Doctor Gerard myself about it, but he’s a busy man, you know. He said maybe next time I’ve got an appointment we could discuss it, but . . . well . . . like I said, he’s a busy man and I’m not due to get my medications filled for at least another week. By that time . . . well . . .” He chafed his hands together. “It sure isn’t getting any warmer out here, if you know what I mean. If you could talk to him about it today, that would be real nice.”
I scrambled to put together the pieces of what Ernie was talking about and got nowhere fast. With a sigh that sent a cloud of heated air around me, I gave up. “I’d be happy to,” I told Ernie. “Only you have to tell me what you want me to talk to him about.”
“Why, that study of his, of course.” Something told me that had he been less polite, Ernie would have pointed out that I was lamebrained for not knowing this. “Doctor Gerard, he’s got that special study of his, and I hear he’s accepting new patients. Oscar, my friend who lives in the alley here just next to where I’ve got my stuff, he went into it just last week. And Becka, that nasty crack whore who used to hang out around here looking to score, I haven’t seen her in a while. I hear she got into the study, too.”
The excitement in Ernie’s voice did not jibe with what I’d heard from Madeline. “So it’s a good thing to be part of the study?”
Ernie looked at me as if I was the dumbest woman he’d ever met, and for all I knew, I was. “The patients in the study, they get three squares a day. And a place to live. Hell, even if it’s just a room there in the clinic, it’s got to be warmer than my box here in the alley.”
I probed carefully. “Is that what they say? The folks in the study? They told you they’re getting meals and a place to live?”
Ernie thought about this for a moment. “Well, not in so many words,” he finally said. He scratched a hand along his chin. “Seeing as how once they’re in that study, they don’t come around here anymore. Why would they? I mean, if they’ve got beds to sleep in and food in their stomachs, why would they bother with us anymore?”
I didn’t want to put words into his mouth, but I had to know the truth. “So they go into the study and then . . .”
“Lucky devils.” Ernie did not follow where I was hoping to lead him, which was to a confirmation—or denial—of what Madeline had told me. Instead, he shook his head. “That’s why I’m hoping you could mention my name to Doctor Gerard. You know, as a kind of favor. Don’t know how much longer I can last in that box of mine.”
I was getting nowhere except colder. I took another step toward the clinic. “Got it!” I gave Ernie the thumbs-up. “I’ll be sure to tell him all about you and how you’re qualified and all.” A thought struck, and I stopped in my tracks. “How are people accepted into the study, anyway?” I asked Ernie. “What do you have to do?”
“Don’t have to do anything. Just have to be special.” Ernie nodded. “The way I see it, I’m pretty special.”
“You are.” I nodded in return. “But special, how?”
“Aberrant behavior. That’s what I heard one of the nurses there in the clinic call it.” He tipped his head toward the building. “They’re looking for folks with aberrant behavior, and when they find them, they put them into that study. Alberta, she would know what they’re talking about, but it makes no sense to me. You got any idea what that might mean, that talk of aberrant behavior?”
I did, but I wasn’t about to go into details. Back when I first met Dan, he had mentioned any number of times that my brain scans revealed that my behavior should be aberrant. As far as I was concerned, I had never demonstrated this (at least not to him), so he wasn’t justified in pointing it out. I guess I was still a little touchy on the subject. That would explain why my spine stiffened.
“Aberrant. That might mean people who hear things. And see things. Things that other people can’t see or hear,” I told Ernie.
“Well, that would explain Becka, that’s for sure. Though I think she only saw things when she was high. Hardly counts, does it?”
I couldn’t deny this.
Ernie turned away. “Aberrant.” His grumble echoed back at me from the gloomy alley where he disappeared into the shadows. “As soon as I figure out what they’re looking for, I’m going to act aberrant, too. If it will get me a good home-cooked meal, hell, it just might be worth it.”
I wasn’t about to follow Ernie into that alley. Instead, I turned and headed up the steps to the clinic door. I was almost there when I heard someone call my name.
I turned just in time to see Dan Callahan step out of a cab and wave to me, and though I’d been obsessing about what to say to him and how to explain what I was doing there, Dan, apparently, had no such worries. He raced up the steps to greet me, his smile a mile wide.
“This is terrific! It’s so good to see you again.” He grabbed both my hands and squeezed them, then he held on to me. I was glad. His black leather gloves provided an extra layer of warmth. Or maybe the heat was generated by the simple fact that Dan was standing so close to me. “I knew you’d come around,” he said, honest relief in his voice. “Tell me, how did you find Doctor Gerard?”
Have I mentioned that I was getting very good at lying? When I looked into Dan’s eyes, I smiled. “Oh, you know how it is.” Hoping to catch him off guard, I made sure I giggled a bit, too. I know for a fact that when a woman giggles, a guy doesn’t always pay close attention to what she’s saying. “Doctor Gerard is famous. It’s only natural that I heard—”
“About the study. Of course.” Dan let go of my hands. Too bad. Even when he backed up a step, his smile never wavered. “I’m glad you’re finally ready to admit you’re special,” he said.
This should have cheered me. It would have if he had said special the way I’d always imagined he’d say it when he was looking deep into my eyes. I was hoping for special as in wow, Pepper, you’re the most special woman I know. What I got instead was more like wow, Pepper, those are some special brain scans you have.
I guess I’m not very good at hiding my disappointment, because he picked up on my mood instantly.
“Doctor Gerard is one of the world’s foremost authorities on abnormal brain function.” Dan said this like he knew it would make me feel better. “This is the best place for you.”
My smile was tight. “And what are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m working with Doctor Gerard,” Dan said, and he was so excited, I don’t think he noticed that my shoulders drooped. So, Madeline was right. A claw of uneasiness made my insides as cold as my outsides. “It’s the chance of a lifetime,” Dan said. “And your timing couldn’t be more perfect. You know I called you the other day?”
I remembered the phone call Quinn had fielded while I was in the shower. “You didn’t say what you wanted.”
“I didn’t expect a man to answer the phone. Not that early in the morning. What, was he there fixing your cable or something?” Leave it to Dan not to consider there might be any other po
ssibility. Before I could point this out, he went right on. “I was planning to call again as soon as I was settled in here. I was going to try and convince you to come to the clinic and be evaluated, but it looks like you beat me to it. This is great, Pepper. We’ll have the chance to work together. You’ve done all your initial screening tests?”
Who was I to tell him he was way off base? Or to ruin a perfectly good chance to find out more about what was going on? I nodded.
“Great. Then I’ll look over the results as soon as I have a chance, and we can plan the next phase of your assessment from there. Right now . . .” He glanced toward the clinic door. “I’ve got a meeting with Doctor Gerard in just a couple minutes, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Dinner?”
Poor Dan, he took my smiling agreement at face value. If only he knew the truth. Dinner was my chance to get closer to him, sure.
It was also the perfect opportunity to figure out what was happening.
Night of the Loving Dead Page 8