by J. L. Murray
“Piper?” said Gage.
“My daughter,” said Olivia. I realized the expression she’d worn when we’d met had been the mask she saved for public. What I was seeing now was the soft vulnerability of a woman whose world was crashing down around her. “Do you mind if I smoke?” she said, tears in her eyes.
“Of course not,” I said. “It’s your house.”
She took a cigarette out of a small drawer in the coffee table. “It’s Frank’s house,” she said, lighting her cigarette. “Everything’s Frank’s. Unless he dies.” She looked at me, blowing smoke out the side of her mouth. “Do you think you killed him?” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He disappeared.”
“Pity,” she said, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. “I’d make a fantastic widow.”
“Damn, that’s cold,” said Gage.
She laughed. “It would seem that way,” she said. “I gave up my life for that man, and all I got in return was a black eye and a lot of fake friends that haven’t called me in weeks.”
“Fair enough,” said Gage.
“You’re entitled to be angry,” I said. “If he dies, will he leave you comfortable?”
“His parents are dead, and he was an only child,” said Olivia. “If Frank dies, I get everything. And do you know what I would do first?”
“Burn this house to the ground?” I said.
“Cheers to that,” she said, raising her glass and taking a drink. She looked at us and smiled. “I have a confession. I lied. I don’t have to be anywhere. I just wanted an excuse to get rid of you both.”
“At least you’re honest,” said Gage.
“Are you?” said Olivia, looking at him blandly.
“Honest?” he said. “Absolutely.”
“What about you, Niki?” she said. “Are you honest? Because I feel like you’re not telling me everything. I’m used to it, don’t get me wrong. Half-truths and smiles is what I normally get from my husband’s people. But I like you. Why did you shoot Frank?”
I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I said. “But first, I’ll take you up on that drink.”
Olivia Bradley took it well. I told her what happened, leaving out only the bits he said about Gina, so as not to hurt her any more. She listened quietly and intently, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair and lit another cigarette. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper. “Shit,” she said.
“Pretty much my reaction, too,” said Gage.
“Besides the violence and the alcoholism,” I said, “did you notice any other changes in your husband lately?”
“No,” she said. “But he…maybe I should show you. You said he was talking about angels. Follow me,” she said. Gage shrugged and stood up to follow Olivia out of the room. I trailed behind them. She led us up the marble staircase and off to the right. We passed door after door, all closed.
“Bright as hell in here,” said Gage.
Olivia shrugged. “It’s a big house,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t like to be alone.” The dog — she called him Clancy — bobbed along beside her, wagging his tail. She kept a hand on his back as she walked, stroking him occasionally. It occurred to me that Clancy was not a guard dog, but a companion. Olivia Bradley was the loneliest woman I’d ever met. I wondered what that was like. Sad, I imagined. I’d been lonely myself at times, but there had always been more important things to worry about. Olivia had everything in this house, except love.
She stopped at the end of the hall and unlocked the door with a key from her pocket. She pushed it open and let us enter ahead of her. Gage switched on the light. The three of us were quiet for a long time.
“Did your husband watch a lot of television?” said Gage, breaking the silence. “As in crime shows? Cause by the looks of it, he took them way too seriously.”
I looked around the sizable room and had absolutely no words. It was an office, that was clear enough by the desk and swivel chair in the middle of the room, and the rows of bookshelves against the walls. But there were dozens upon dozens of grainy photographs tacked to every possible surface, the books only visible through occasional gaps between pictures. A large picture window was blocked by an enormous map of the city, mounted on cardboard and propped on the sill. Colorful tacks and scribblings covered the map and one spot had a bright red circle around it. Walking over to it I could see that the scribblings were the same word, written over and over: Angel. I looked at Olivia.
“How long has he been doing this?” I said.
“I don’t know,” she said. She was leaning against the door watching us. “I hadn’t been in here in months, maybe even a year or two. I came up here on impulse last week, but the door was locked. I found a set of keys in a drawer in the bedroom. He was my husband, for God’s sake. How could I not see him going crazy?”
“Maybe he wasn’t crazy,” said Gage. He was peering at the photos that lined the room. “You’re gonna want to see this, Niki.”
“What is it?” I said, coming over and looking at the picture he was staring at.
“Ain’t that your Uncle Naz?” said Gage.
“Jesus,” I said. It was Naz standing outside in some sort of parking lot and shaking hands with Frank Bradley. Several other men were in the picture, including a few men I knew from before Sasha went away to prison. “He’s not really my uncle,” I said. “What the hell are they doing?”
Olivia had come in to see what we were gaping at. “I don’t know,” she said. “Apparently I just live here.”
Nearly every picture had Frank Bradley in it. And another familiar face too. A tall, thin man with white hair: Hal Dorrance. The other men looked vaguely familiar, and several women in suit jackets and pencil skirts. Naz appeared in several pictures, and others showed Bradley and Dorrance alone in front of some sort of bar or restaurant. They looked like great friends.
“Have you ever met any of these people?” I asked Olivia.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I never did meet a lot of Frank’s friends. A few people from work that came over for dinner a few times. He always said he wanted to keep his private life separate from his work life. Of course,” she pointed to a group of photos in which Frank was standing next to an attractive woman in a low-cut dress, “apparently that rule didn’t apply to his whore.”
“You knew about her?” said Gage. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?” he said, defensively.
“It’s fine,” said Olivia. “I’ve known about Gina Halsted for some time now. Just another reason I’m divorcing him.” She looked at me and frowned. “What is it?”
“Gina Halsted is dead,” I said. “They’re saying Frank killed her.”
“Do you think it’s true?” she said, looking from me to Gage.
“When Frank was acting all crazy in my apartment,” I said, “he was muttering about how he shouldn’t have hurt Gina. I’m thinking it’s probably true.”
“Jesus,” said Olivia.
“I think I need to get you out of here,” I said. “If your husband’s alive, he may come for you next. I know a guy that can protect you. Go get some things and I’ll have him take you to the airport. It might even be a good idea if he accompanied you on the flight. You can be with your daughter by morning.”
Olivia shrugged. “If you think it’s necessary.”
“Can we take some of these pictures?” Gage said.
“Why not?” she said. “Take it all.”
“One more question,” I said. I walked to the window and picked up the map. The pushpins were various colors, speckled all over the city. On the northern edge of the map there was a bright red circle made with what was probably a permanent marker. It was the only writing in red and was so bright I’d seen it across the room. “Do any of these spots have any significance for you?” I said.
Olivia scanned the map, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her gaze slid up to the red circle. She looked at it for a moment. “Oh,” she
said softly.
I looked at Gage. “You know this place, Olivia?” I said.
“Maybe,” she said. “There was a cabin. Frank called it his fishing cabin, only there was nowhere to fish. His grandfather bought it before the Depression, but the creek dried up before Frank could remember. He took me there when we were dating. It was not what I expected.”
“Why not?” I said.
“Well, he’d made out like we were going to have this big romantic getaway. And Frank was larger than life, you know? Expensive everything. I made fun of him for it. Big house, big car, he even gave me big presents until I asked him to stop. Expensive jewelry, stuff like that.”
“Sounds horrible,” said Gage.
“I know how it sounds,” she said, “but it did make me uncomfortable, taking all this stuff. Anyway, he took me to his cabin one weekend on the spur of the moment. We were sick of the city and he said he wanted to whisk me away. But the cabin was falling apart. There were spiderwebs everywhere, and dust an inch thick. The bed was disgusting. Mice had gotten into it. We ended up going to a hotel in the town. Fancy place, high tea and all that. But that cabin, I’m pretty sure it was there.” She pointed to the red circle. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Fancy a road trip?” I asked Gage.
“You betcha,” he said.
“You might want to wait until daylight,” Olivia said. “The last few miles are along a pretty rough road.” Clancy, who had been curled up on the rug in the middle of the room, whined and raised his head to look at her. “I’d better take him out.”
The dog ran out of the room, apparently familiar with this routine. Olivia hesitated in the doorway. “Do you think he’s still alive?” she said. “Not that it matters, but I’d like to know. Seems hard to believe he could survive being shot twice in the chest.”
“He was still moving last I saw. I’m sorry, Olivia. But he was going to kill me.”
She shook her head and gave me a small smile. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “If you do find him, I’ll make it worth your while. He may be a bastard, but I guess a part of me still cares a little.” She nodded, as if that resolved something, and moved to leave.
We followed her out into the brightly illuminated back lawn, and watched as she wandered out into the middle of the yard, following Clancy. I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number. “Who you calling?” said Gage.
“Lou Craig,” I said. He was a former prison guard who had helped us in the past. I trusted him enough to act as a bodyguard for Sofi when she was in the hospital. “He’s the only one I would trust with this.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said.
“Present company excluded, of course,” I said, smiling at him.
He snorted. “Whatever. Why you so gung-ho to protect her?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She’s innocent. And she has a daughter to think about.”
“Project much?” he said. I ignored him.
“Hi Lou, it’s Niki,” I said into the phone. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in some work tonight.” I looked at Clancy jumping up onto Olivia playfully. “Might run into tomorrow, too.”
Chapter 5
Gage arrived at my apartment just as I was finishing my third cup of coffee. “Ready?” he said, helping himself to a cup.
“I’ve been ready since six,” I said. “Where’ve you been?”
“Getting my casting books together,” he said, taking a sip. “You know, just in case.” He patted the satchel slung across his chest.
“Boy Scout, huh?” I said, smiling.
“Be prepared,” he said. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I said. I had not slept well. I tried Eli’s number after Gage dropped me off, but reached the voicemail again. And there was the cryptic message from the office of Eliza Michaels on the answering machine. It is extremely urgent that the commissioner speak with you, the nervous-sounding administrative assistant said. After I met Eliza I realized why he always seemed terrified. She would be an intimidating boss. I felt relieved to be leaving after just a ten-minute meeting; I couldn’t imagine spending all day with the woman.
I tapped a finger on the newspaper spread out on the table. “See the papers?” I said.
“No,” Gage said, coming over and looking at the front page. He grimaced as he saw the headline: Charred Remains Believed To Be Congressman.
“Guess I could’ve predicted that,” he said. “If Dorrance wants his seat in Congress, he’s gotta prove Bradley’s gone for good, right?”
“Why are you so sure Dorrance is involved?” I said.
Gage shrugged. “These rich guys are always up to no good. Especially politicians. Plus, he looks shifty.”
“There’s something else, too,” I said. I flipped the page to a black-and-white picture of a burning house. “Recognize that?”
Gage narrowed his eyes. “Bradley’s house?”
“Sure is,” I said. “I called Lou Craig, Olivia is fine. He’s going to stay with the family a few more days.”
“Good thing you insisted she leave last night. Saved her life. So you ready or what?” Gage said.
“You tell me,” I said, pulling up my pant leg to show the little derringer strapped there, then lifting my jacket to show off my shoulder-holster. “Pretty fancy, eh?” I said.
“You girls and your firearms,” he said. “I’ll get the car.”
Gage double-parked so I could run from the door to the car. “Thanks,” I said, closing the car door. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I looked at the number. I assumed it would be the commissioner’s office again, but the number was unknown. I answered it. “Hello?”
“It’s Naz,” said the voice on the other end. “Is very important.”
“Naz?” I said. “I was going to call you later. I need to talk to you.”
“You come, right now, yeah?”
“Now?” I said. “No, we’re going-”
“Nikita, this is not a discussion. You come to me where Sasha disappeared.”
“What? Why?”
“Just say you will come, Nikita,” he said. His voice was panicked, strained.
“Okay, I’ll come,” I said. “We’re on our way.”
“Just you,” he said.
“I’m with Bobby Gage,” I said.
“The big man?” he said. The line was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “But tell him to wait outside. I need to talk to you alone.”
“What’s this about?” I said.
“I tell you when you get here. It concerns you, Sasha, me. Everyone.” The line went dead. I snapped the phone shut.
“What was that about?” said Gage. “It was Naz?”
“He wants me to meet him at the warehouse where Sasha disappeared,” I said. “He said it was urgent.”
“You don’t think he wants to, you know,” Gage drew a finger across his throat, “finish us off?”
“I think if he wanted to do that, we’d be dead already,” I said. “Besides, I want to ask him about Frank Bradley. He wants to talk to me alone. Do you mind?”
“Waiting in the car?” he said.
“I’m really sorry, Bobby,” I said. “He sounded different, though. I think I should talk to him.”
“How do you know he’s not going to kill you? You think that’s smart? All alone with a Russian mob guy? ”
“Ukrainian,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said. “He’s a coward and I don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust me?” I said.
“Of course. How can you ask that?”
“If you trust me,” I said, “then please, just let me do this one thing, okay? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I tapped the gun, hidden beneath my jacket in my holster. “I do know how to use this thing.”
Gage snorted. “You’d probably be better in a fight than I am. Fine,” he said. “Go alone if you have to. But I’ll be right around the corner. If I hear anything, I’ll come running.”
/> “To do what?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. But you can bet it’ll be goddamn fantastic.”
As we passed the empty space where the Deep Blue Sea used to be, I felt a pang of sadness. I was still mad at Sam for rushing me out and disappearing, then realized, to my surprise, that I wanted to see Sam. Not to get paid, or to ask him questions that no one else could answer, or even to yell at him about Eli or some other manipulation. I just wanted to see him and talk to him. I frowned. Best not to think about that too deeply right now.
We pulled up to the warehouse just as the sun was coming up. I looked at the abandoned building, which looked even worse in the light than it had a month ago, when my father had been sucked into the earth in an attempt to save my life. The ground was littered with corroded tin and rotted wood. Gage and I, both remembering, looked up toward the roof, which had been the exit for Abaddon when he fled the building. We had followed him through the city to the edge of what turned out to be a gateway to Hell. I shot Abaddon with cartridges full of rock salt. I still had dreams about the demon’s insides melting out through the gaping hole in his neck.
The warehouse was leaning slightly, towards the river. “Hopefully it’ll stay standing until after I come out,” I said. I looked at Gage. “Where will you be?” I said. I spotted the wandering ghosts out of the corner of my eye and looked out at them all, feeling slightly sick. They had helped me the last time I was here. I’d asked them to. One of them had even known my name. But spirits had short memories, especially lately. And if I’d learned anything the past few weeks it was that I didn’t want them to know who I was anymore. They could turn into a desperate mob in an instant, and I would rather fight any demon again than feel their cold hands trying to grab inside of me. I shivered.
“They still here?” said Gage.
“Of course,” I said. “Where are they going to go? No one crosses anymore.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “He nodded to the warehouse. “You sure about this?”