The Devil You Know

by Richard Levesque

  He let his feet touch the bottom and stood up, the skin on his upper body now cold in the afternoon air. Looking past the pool deck and the expansive view he had from this spot on the hill, he told himself that it was good to be king. The only problem was that his kingdom was unraveling a bit more every day, and he shuddered inwardly at the thought of what new horrors he’d face in the wake of the maid’s death. It wasn’t the inquest or the police he had to worry about. His connections at the Hall of Justice assured him it would be ruled a suicide and that his name would be kept out of it. But there would be other things the demons would do, other mischief. For a while, he had seen their presence here and their fealty to him as the ultimate manifestation of his power, but it had weakened now, and he wondered what other chinks in his armor would be revealed to the humans whose loyalty he still counted on.

  “Mr. Piedmont, sir?” The voice from the intercom speaker was tiny and distant.

  “Tell him to hold on, Eddie,” Julian said as he waded to the side of the pool. Dutifully, Eddie Teagarten hauled himself up from his lounge chair and walked to the intercom to do Julian’s bidding—a bit more slowly than expected, though, Julian noticed.

  He climbed out of the water and grabbed a towel, rubbing his head and chest as he walked around the pool and toward the door that led into the ground floor of the house. The intercom speaker was mounted next to the door, and when he reached it, he leaned against the wall and hit the button below the speaker. “What is it, Edgar?” he said.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Julian’s butler said. “There are some people at the gate who say they had some business with your father. A Mr. Aaron Sheffield and his assistant. Shall I admit them?”

  Julian hesitated for a moment, his finger just above the button. He turned his head to look again at the view from the pool deck and then turned back toward the wall. “Did he say what kind of business?”

  “No, sir. Just that Mr. Leonard had been in negotiations with him before his death. This Mr. Sheffield seemed surprised to learn of your father’s passing, sir.”

  “All right,” Julian said. “Let him in. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Not waiting for Edgar’s reply, he stepped away from the intercom and walked back around the pool. He had a robe and sandals on a deck chair, and he put them on without saying a word to his friends. Before turning away from the pool again, he said, “Come up in a few. We’ll go into town and get dinner.”

  Going up the long stairway that led to the main floor of the mansion, he considered the decision he’d made to let all the women on his staff go. That included the cooks. The prospect of running the estate with a limited staff did not appeal to him, but it was worse to consider the possibility of more dead women on the property, or of others driven into the strange, vacant state that the incubi caused in some of their victims.

  When he reached the main floor and entered the great room, he found an old man and a young woman standing near the picture window and admiring the view of the distant hills and the pool directly below.

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said.

  The pair turned toward him. The old man had thinning gray hair that he wore a bit longer than was fashionable. His tan suit looked similarly out of fashion, and Julian expected that it had not seen the outside of a closet in several years. A bit hunched over, the old man moved toward him with twinkling eyes and an outstretched hand. Moving to meet him halfway, Julian looked toward his companion. The woman was a bit taller than average height; she had auburn hair that she had put up in a bun, and she wore a conservative blue skirt and a blouse buttoned to the collar. Covered up so thoroughly, she left him thinking of nothing more than seeing what she had hidden. Even as he shook the old man’s hand, he thought about the woman and how good it would be to watch as she shook her hair free from the bun.

  “Aaron Sheffield,” the old man said.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sheffield. I’m Julian Piedmont.” He smiled pleasantly at the old man and turned his eyes to the woman again.

  Catching the shift in his glance, Sheffield said, “My assistant, Miss Nelson.”

  “How do you do?” the woman said with a polite smile. She made no effort to step forward and shake his hand.

  Fine, Julian thought. He had chased his share of hard-to-get and had never been disappointed. “Very well,” he said, returning her smile and imagining her buttons undone.

  “We’re very sorry to hear about your father, Mr. Piedmont,” the old man began. “You see, I had no idea.”

  Julian raised an eyebrow. “My father was rather well-known. His death was in all the papers, the newsreels.”

  Sheffield gave him an embarrassed grin. “I’m afraid I don’t go in much for…modern texts, Mr. Piedmont. Newspapers, films…I tend to be a little out of touch.”

  “And Miss Nelson?” Piedmont asked, turning toward the woman. “Are you…out of touch as well?”

  The woman smiled, a bit nervously Julian thought. Good. He liked catching women off their guard—and keeping them there.

  Before Miss Nelson could reply, her companion directed the conversation back to his main interest. “Your father and I had corresponded off and on about my acquiring some parts of his collection.”

  “Art?” Julian asked with mild interest.

  “No. Books.”

  “Ahh. I see.” He had long felt disdain for his father’s collections—until the night the demons had been conjured. Then he had begun to see the value in the books; he had since directed several of his corps of friends to scour the shelves for more books on the occult in the hope that they might yield more information on how to handle the incubi or how to get more power from other dark spirits—things he would have scoffed at a month ago. While the literature and other antiquities on the shelves meant nothing to him, he had no intention of parting with any of it until he knew exactly what he had. None of this could be explained to Aaron Sheffield, though. “Well, I’m sorry,” he said, thinking quickly of an excuse to keep him from honoring whatever deal his father had entered into with the old man, “but since the estate has shifted over to me, well, I just haven’t had the time to catalog everything yet. I’m sure there will be some things I’ll part with, but…you know. Sentimental value and all.”

  “Yes, of course,” the old man said. “I’m awfully sorry to bother you about any of it, but we have come all the way from San Francisco, and so I thought if there was any chance at all of your seeing your way to completing the sale your father and I had been negotiating…” The sentence trailed off into a hopeful smile.

  Julian shook his head and waved a hand to indicate that no apology was necessary. “I completely understand. I would have done the same thing in your position.” It struck him as odd that Sheffield had not proffered a business card. That, combined with the shabby suit and the old man’s claim about not knowing about his father death, made Julian begin to wonder if Aaron Sheffield wasn’t completely on the level. Are you trying to con the con man, old boy? Julian thought. If that was the case, Julian decided to give the old man a little rope and see what happened. “So tell me, what was it Father had planned to sell?” he asked.

  “Why, several volumes really. Miss Nelson?” He turned to his assistant, who opened the leather folder she had been carrying. She took out a sheet of paper with a typewritten list on it and handed it to Sheffield, who passed it on to Julian.

  He scanned the list. A few of the titles he had heard of, but he had no idea if the books on the list were actually part of his father’s collection. Most of the titles meant nothing to him, and several were in foreign languages. But when his eyes scanned over the words Gelamen Malum Lacuna, he had to force himself to keep moving them down the list. His mind raced. There was a chance his father had intended to sell the book of spells to the old man, but given Sheffield’s odd traits, Julian concluded that it was only a slim chance at best. What the devil the old man was doing here, then, Julian could not begin to surmise. There was no possibili
ty that Sheffield could know about the incubi and what they’d been up to, but Julian reasoned that anyone interested in Gelamen Malum Lacuna would know a fair amount more than he did about controlling demons and harnessing their power. Furthermore, anyone who hoped to add the book of spells to his collection would most likely have similar books that could be of use.

  “Quite a list,” he said after several seconds. “I know a few of these volumes, but not all of them.” He handed the list back to the old man. “I’m afraid they’re no longer for sale. Very sorry for you to have wasted your time.”

  “I see.” Sheffield sounded disappointed. “You won’t reconsider? I was prepared to pay your father five thousand dollars. I can afford to increase the amount a bit given the change in circumstances.”

  Piedmont smiled. “A generous offer, I’m sure. But you see, Mr. Sheffield, I’m just not an expert on old books. I couldn’t let these go without having the whole collection appraised. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I do understand, Mr. Piedmont. Absolutely. I won’t say I’m not disappointed, but…Thank you for your time, anyway. Would you object to my phoning you in a month or so to see if the situation has changed?”

  Julian smiled and said, “Of course not. Feel free to call at any time.” He shook the old man’s hand again and stepped aside to let him pass. In doing so, he moved directly in front of Miss Nelson so that she would have to walk around him to get out of the room. He caught her eye, hoping for a moment’s flirtation, but her gaze was cool and steely; she looked back at him without blinking, and he detected real anger there. Why she would feel that way, he had no idea, but her expression added to his sense that something about the pair was not as it seemed. “You know,” he said as the woman edged past him, “I could actually use an expert here to help me catalog all the books. Perhaps Miss Nelson would be available?”

  He relished the way she moved several feet away from him before stopping to acknowledge his comment. It was as though she feared he had some disease that would spread to her if she stayed too near him. Then she affected a professional looking smile and said, “I’m afraid I need to go with Mr. Sheffield.”

  “Yes,” the old man said. He had turned when Julian made his proposition and now looked nervously in his direction. For the first time since they had met, Sheffield appeared uncomfortable, his expression reminding Julian of how a boy might look when he fears his dog is about to be given away. “Miss Nelson and I are expected back in San Francisco by morning.”

  Julian nodded. “I see. Well, if you change your mind, you know how to get hold of me, yes? Edgar?” The butler had stood passively by the front doors the whole time the pair had been meeting with Julian; now he looked in his master’s direction, his head popping up like a toy suddenly wound up. “See to it that Mr. Sheffield has my private number, will you?”

  Edgar nodded and reached into an inner pocket, handing Sheffield a card as he approached the door. Julian admired Miss Nelson’s rear and her ankles as she followed the old man up the entryway steps and out the door. Neither looked back at him, and Edgar closed the door after them.

  Julian stared at the door for a moment and then said, “Edgar, make me dinner reservations for this evening. The gentlemen at the pool will be joining me.” He paused a moment. “All but one. And get me a girl to join us, would you? One who looks a bit like the one that just left?”

  “Yes, sir,” the butler said.

  “And I want you to delay a minute in opening the gate for them when they ring.”

  “Yes, sir,” the butler repeated and left the room.

  Julian quickly went to the intercom and called Dick Sheridan to come up. He paced before the picture window while Dick raced up the stairs. He arrived out of breath and with a white robe thrown over his still wet body. “There’s a car just leaving with an old man and a girl in it. Take a quick look outside and then follow them. Don’t let them see you.”

  Dick looked nonplussed. “Can I get dressed first?”

  “Go now. They may be heading for the airport or a hotel. If they do, that’s fine. Just come back. But if they go anywhere else—if it seems like they’re not from out of town, I want to know where they end up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The evening following their failed attempt to wrest the book of spells from Julian Piedmont, Marie and Jasper discussed their options at length, including Tom in their meeting around Jasper’s dining table. Tom had been against their plan to talk their way onto the Piedmont estate, and had been angry with Jasper for taking five thousand dollars in cash with him. Marie had spoken to him alone, though, and had convinced him that it was necessary and that Julian was nowhere near as dangerous as the monsters he had created. Tom had relented and met them at the door of Jasper’s house when they returned empty handed, relief written on every bit of his face. Now he seemed glad that he was being included in their conspiracy, but he had little to offer as Jasper and Marie brainstormed ideas on how best to proceed without the book of spells.

  The next morning, Marie was at work when the phone rang. She had seen no repeat of the change in Father Joe’s demeanor toward her, and he had just gone out for his coffee and walk when Marie picked up the receiver. She answered as she always did: “Hello, this is St. Lucy’s. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, can I speak to Marie Doyle, please?”

  “Speaking,” she said a bit apprehensively. In all the time she had worked here, she had received very few personal calls, and all of them from people she knew well. This voice she did not recognize.

  “Miss Doyle, this is Sergeant Clifford with the Los Angeles Police Department. Do you have a moment to answer some questions?”

  “Well…yes,” she said, suddenly flustered by the fear that something worse had happened to Elise at the hospital. “What’s this about?”

  “Miss Doyle, are you acquainted with a Jasper Hollenbeck?”

  Her adrenaline spiked immediately, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead and her heart pounding. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Is something wrong?”

  “And his grandson, a Mr. Glass?”

  “Yes. Can you tell me what’s happened?”

  “I’m afraid there was a break-in at Mr. Hollenbeck’s residence during the night. We haven’t been able to piece together the details, but it would appear that Mr. Hollenbeck surprised the intruders. I’m afraid to have to tell you this, Miss Doyle.”

  No! she thought.

  “But Mr. Hollenbeck has died. Our assumption at this point is that he had a heart attack from the shock.”

  Marie fought back tears and could barely speak as she said, “No! He can’t be dead. There’s got to be a mistake.”

  “I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

  “And Tom?”

  “Mr. Glass,” said the sergeant. “He asked for you. That’s all he’d say. This number and, I assume, your home number were on a sheet of paper by the telephone here.”

  “All right. Can I speak to him?”

  “Not at the moment. He’s receiving some medical care right now.”

  “Medical care?”

  “Yes, it might be helpful if you came. Do you know anything about his condition?”

  “What do you mean, ‘condition’?” It was all too much for Marie to make sense of, and the whirlpool of emotions pulling her down made it much more difficult to understand what the police sergeant meant.

  “His medical condition, ma’am. He said your name, and that’s it. Just stares into space, almost completely unresponsive.”

  “I don’t—” she began. “He’s…” She thought of Elise and how the word “unresponsive” perfectly described her. Immediately, she knew that the break-in had not been a random burglary. Julian Piedmont had been suspicious of her and Jasper; he had no doubt had one of his lackeys follow them when they had left his estate. Once they’d seen where Marie drove him, it wouldn’t have taken a genius to see that Jasper’s story about being a San Francisco book dealer was a sham. Piedmont had had his thu
gs break in, either to scare the old man away or actually to steal from his library. If Tom was in a state similar to Elise, the only thing Marie could imagine was that one of the incubi had been set loose on him, that it had done unimaginable things to him, leaving him more broken inside than he had been at the end of the war. The thought was more than she could bear. “I’m coming right now. They’re not going to…take him away or anything?”

  “Mr. Glass? I don’t believe so. There’s one other thing, Miss Doyle.”

  Fearful of what it might be, she simply said, “Yes?”

  “Mr. Hollenbeck’s grandson appears to be in no condition to make a positive identification of the body, and we haven’t been able to establish if there’s any other family nearby. Since you’re coming here anyway, could I impose on you to make the identification?”

  “My God,” Marie half-whispered. Then she said, “Yes, of course.”

  She did not bother trying to find Father Joe on his walk of the church grounds, but just scribbled a quick note telling him she had an emergency to deal with and that she would phone him to let him know when she would be able to come back to work. Then, almost forgetting her coat and purse, she rushed out the door, through the church, and out to her car.

  * * * * * * * *

  There were four police cars in front of Jasper’s house, along with an ambulance and a black and white station wagon from the coroner’s office. Marie had to park two houses down, and she ran the distance from her car to Jasper’s front door. A uniformed officer barred her way, and she could see several people moving about inside the house’s dark interior.

  “I was phoned,” she explained to the policeman. “Sergeant…damn it, I forget his name. I’m Marie Doyle. Please. Whoever’s in charge will…”

  “All right,” the officer said. He was tall and imposing, but when he held up a hand to signal that he needed her to be patient for a moment, she felt that he was going to listen to her. “If you’ll wait here just a minute, I’ll see the Sergeant.” He took a step into the house and then stopped, turning toward her and pointing a finger in her direction. “But if you set one foot in this house before I come back, I’ll have you arrested for interfering with an investigation.”