by Gary Jonas
“Way to feel empathy.”
Kelly blinked.
I sighed. “So it means nothing to you.”
“It means something to me,” Esther said. “Come on, Kelly. You should go with Jonathan and check into it.”
Kelly rolled her eyes then stared at me. “I don't give a shit about some woman doing a swan dive off a bridge. And I don't appreciate you sending your cheerleader over here to tell me how I should give you a chance and how wonderful you are. As she can walk through walls, I can't keep her out, but I don't want to talk to her or to you. Do you understand?”
“I didn't send her.”
“He didn't,” Esther said. “We were all friends once.”
“No, we weren't,” Kelly said. “I met you twice in the 1920s. We hardly exchanged pleasantries. And this asshole is not the man I worked with. I've been extremely patient with you people, but if you don't give me some fucking space, I'm going to kill you.”
“Already dead,” Esther said, raising a hand.
“I'll kill him twice, then,” Kelly said pointing at me.
“Well, I never!” Esther said.
Kelly glared at me. “And you,” she said. “I've given this some thought overnight. You don't have a client, and you don't have a case. Some lady jumping off a bridge means nothing. There were a lot of people on that tour, and the rest of them are fine.”
“We don't know that.”
“Did the news report a rash of murders and suicides?”
“No.”
“That tells me this isn't a big deal. You're just trying to keep me here for some misguided reason. We are not friends, and trying to shove a bullshit case down my throat is not going to change anything. I don't like you, and I don't want you in my life. Is that clear enough, or do I need to carve the words into your chest with my sword?”
“I understand,” I said.
Esther started to move toward Kelly, but I held up my hand.
“She has no right to say that,” Esther said.
“Yes, she does. Come on, Esther, we should leave her alone.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I said. “She's right.”
Esther bowed her head and walked past us toward the hall.
I took a deep breath and met Kelly's gaze. “I'm sorry I tried to keep you here. I'll arrange for an account to be set up under whatever name you decide to use, and I'll deposit a million dollars into it so you can start over wherever you choose to go.”
Esther stopped at the wall and looked back. “We're supposed to be a team,” she said.
“Esther, can you please go ask Rayna to meet me in my room?” I asked.
“Are you going to send her away too?”
“If she wants to go, she can.”
Esther frowned but popped away.
“So the shit you said about the Men of Anubis was just that? Crap?” Kelly asked.
“I don't know,” I said. “I doubt they'll bother you if you don't go after them.”
“They killed my friend.”
“And I stole his body,” I said. “If you want to be upset with someone, be upset with me.”
“I'm already upset with you.”
“I know.”
“They tried to kill both of you. I do understand that.”
“That's right but it doesn't matter. I should have found a way to save the other me. I'm sorry I tried to manipulate you to stay with me. It was wrong of me to do so. I'll leave a message for you at the front desk when the account is ready for you.”
She hesitated then gave me a single nod. “Thank you.”
“Will you do me one favor?”
Suspicion clouded her features again. “What?”
“If Esther comes to talk to you again, will you please be nice to her? She adored the Kelly we knew. None of this is her fault.”
Kelly sighed but nodded.
“Thanks,” I said and walked back to my room.
***
Ten minutes later, Rayna knocked on my door. I closed my laptop and let her in, but Esther was nowhere in sight.
“Where's Esther?” I asked.
Rayna shrugged. “She said she wanted to be alone for a while.”
“All right. Come on in.”
“Do we have a lead?”
“Have a seat.”
Rayna walked over and sat in one of the chairs by the window. “Something wrong?” she asked.
“Kelly isn't going to be joining us.”
“She has something better to do?”
“She's going her own way. She wants to live her own life away from me.”
“That doesn't mean anything. She's been saying that since we got here, but she's still here.”
“I led her to believe she had to stick with us. I may have led you to believe the same thing.”
“Are you asking me to leave?” she asked.
“I'm offering you the choice.”
“You already pointed out that I have no money and nowhere else to go.”
“If you want to start over, I'll create an account for you with a million dollars to set up wherever you choose.”
“Can I have the million and still stay here with you?” she asked.
“You'd want to stay?”
“I don't know anyone here. I can't go back to Boulder. They think I'm dead, so that's not really a choice.”
“You could go back and claim to be a relative. Clara would certainly recognize you.”
“What makes you think Clara is even alive? Thomas would have killed her or at least taken her back to the other world.”
“I checked the Internet, and your cousin Wesley is running The Steam Room. As they tout the same benefits, it's safe to say that Clara is alive.”
“So Thomas let Wesley live?”
“Near as I can tell, Wesley and Lucas Junior are both alive and well. While they don't specifically say anything about the dragon, I think there's a good chance she's still there. Your uncle is dead, though.”
“So I could have my old life back?”
“Maybe.”
“Can I take some time to think about it?”
“Of course.”
“If I go back to Boulder, what will you do?”
“Esther and I will be fine. We'll set up shop somewhere and work cases.”
“Here in New York?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Are you going to keep working this case?”
I nodded. “Nothing better to do.”
“Can I help?”
“Of course.”
She stared into my eyes. “Do you want me to stay here with you?”
What was I supposed to say to that? On the one hand, I barely knew her. We'd had our time in the sun so long ago that she was a stranger to me now. She was smoking hot, so that helped, but I didn't want to try to sway her one way or the other when she could go back to a semi normal life.
I gazed into her eyes and took longer to reply than I should have. “I want you to do what makes you happy,” I said.
She frowned. “Wow. I guess I'll look into flights back to Colorado,” she said. “I didn't realize I was cramping your style.”
She rose and headed for the door.
“That's not what I meant,” I said.
“Save it,” she said and walked out.
I stood there in stunned silence and shook my head. Some days you just can't win.
***
My morning and a good portion of my afternoon were spent getting accounts set up for Kelly and Rayna. I created numbered accounts in Switzerland for each of them and transferred a cool million into each.
Later that afternoon, I cruised out to Washington Heights and found Edith Bennett's apartment. I was just going through the motions to have something to do other than hang out in the hotel, feeling sorry for myself. Her husband buzzed me in when I identified myself as being with the news. He waited for me at the door to their apartment.
“You the guy from the news?”
“I am.”
“And you'll pay me five hundred dollars for an exclusive interview?”
I held up five crisp hundred-dollar bills. “Sorry to intrude during your time of grief.”
He grabbed the bills. “This for the infranet?”
“Internet,” I said.
“Whatever. Got no love for computers. Come on in.”
“Thanks,” I said and followed him into the apartment.
“Watch out for the cats,” he said.
The apartment smelled like cat shit, and as soon as he warned me about the cats, six of them scrambled past me. One headed for the door, but Mr. Bennett shoved it aside with his foot.
“Nice try, Nyx,” he said. “Gotta be faster than that, you little fleabag.” He pointed down the hall. “Let's talk in the living room. I'm watching a Pawn Stars marathon on the History channel. What that show has to do with history is beyond me.”
I shrugged. “It's an inexpensive show that gets good ratings for them.”
A large television set hung on the wall and practically dominated the living room. A sofa and two chairs were positioned toward the TV. If you wanted to face away from the screen, you'd need to sit on the floor.
“I got it paused so we can talk and I ain't gotta miss a thing. Some guy's trying to sell a guitar signed by one of the Beatles.”
“I won't take much of your time, Mr. Bennett.”
“You got five hundred bucks of my time; then I'm kicking you out.” He laughed as though it were the funniest thing he'd ever heard.
I wrinkled my nose and tried to breathe through my mouth.
The chairs were covered in cat fur, and the floor looked to be covered in piles of shit and vomit. Stacks of newspaper stood against one wall, and they were ragged from the cats using them as scratching posts. From the looks of the sofa and chairs, the cats used them the same way.
“Was your wife under any distress when she got home yesterday?”
“My wife was always stressed. Ain't nothing new there.”
“Did she work somewhere?”
“She sold shit on eBay and some other site. Jewelry and shit.”
“Etsy?” I asked.
“That's the one. I bust my ass every damn day, and she sits here, fiddling with craft shit. Knitting and beading and who the fuck knows what else.”
“And what do you do?”
“Sanitation department. Ironic, ain't it?”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“I live in this fuckin' dump. Goddamn cats everywhere. Little bastards shit on everything. Can't wait to get rid of them all.” He leaned over and yelled at one of the cats. “Hear that, you little pussy? You're goin' to the fuckin' pound!”
The cat looked at him then looked away as if he were unworthy of notice.
“Okay, then. Did you talk to your wife yesterday?”
“You want a beer?”
“I'm good,” I said, waving him off.
“Yeah, I talked to her. She came in talkin' about some cruise she went on to see the Statute of Liberty.”
“Statue,” I said.
“Whatever. Said she went on some island tour too, but I didn't pay no attention to that shit. She's always goin' on some tour or another. Art museums, galleries, abandoned buildings, and who knows what all. If you can go see it, she'll pay good money to waste time there.”
“Did she seem more stressed than usual when she came home?”
“I don't know. I was watchin' Naked and Afraid, but they blur out the titties. Frustrating as shit. But they do show some ass, so it don't totally suck. You know what I mean? They need an uncensored edition DVD or something. I'd watch that in a heartbeat.”
“No offense, Mr. Bennett, but you don't seem too upset that your wife is dead.”
“Oh, well boo-fuckin’-hoo. If I'd been smart, I'd have divorced her years ago. Now she's dead and she saved me some attorney fees. I'd call that a win. All she ever did was nag and bitch and moan about every damn thing.”
“What did she bitch about last night?” I asked, hoping to learn something.
“Oh, you're gonna love this shit. She interrupts my goddamn show to tell me she's being stalked.”
“Stalked?”
“Ain't that the icing on the cake? You seen a picture of her? She looks like my brother Earl. Like somebody's gonna stalk her.”
I couldn't take much more of the smell or of the man. “Did she see her stalker?”
“She felt him,” he said. “Ain't that a kicker? She bounced around the place last night, blocking the damn TV, so I told her to go bug her sister. Then this morning at work, they tell me she jumped off the bridge. If nothing else, at least it got me the rest of the day off. And I got to be on TV.”
“Fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Eternal fame once you post your click-baity article on the infranet.”
“Internet.”
“Whatever.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Bennett. I have about all I can handle here.”
“You can see yourself out, right? I gotta see what they pay for this guitar.”
He clicked his remote, and his TV roared to life. I managed to get out of there without letting any of the cats escape. Before I left, I looked at one of the cats and said, “If you're lucky, they'll get you a new home. Anyplace would be better than this.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On the way back to the hotel, I almost stopped at a bar called O'Malley's, but I thought about the Nick Cave song and didn't want to get shot or to shoot anyone, so I kept walking. Still, I wanted a drink.
My phone rang.
I answered, “O'Malley's, home of the massacre.”
“Sorry, I must have the wrong number,” a woman's voice said.
I glanced at the caller ID. “Hey, Isabel, you have the right number.”
“Jonathan?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“There's something watching me.”
I straightened. “Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, talk. You think the darkness is there?”
“Yes, and it's freaking me out, and I'm out of smokes.”
“Have you taken a shower?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A simple yes-or-no question. Have you taken a shower?”
“Yes. I shower every day so that I can have friends.”
“All right. I'm on my way.”
“Please don't hang up.”
“I'll stay on the line with you.”
“Thank you. I don't normally get this freaked out, but it was looking into my bedroom window. And I'm on the tenth floor.”
I hailed a cab. To my surprise, the cabbie pulled over. I climbed into the back seat, gave him the address.
“All right, Isabel. I'm about ten minutes away.”
“I don't see it right now, but I feel it out there, waiting. Sancho is hiding under the couch. His tail is fluffed and he's hissing.”
“Smart cat. Do you have any weapons?”
“No.”
“Baseball bat?”
“No, I don't have anything like that.”
“Broom?”
“I do have a broom,” she said.
“Grab it. If it gets inside, you can smack it with the broomstick.”
“That won't do any good.”
“It might disperse it.”
“I hope you're right.”
The cab driver drove in silence, which I appreciated, but he wasn't going very fast, and if nothing else, it was time to get rid of the darkness once and for all. Kelly and Rayna were leaving, so there was no point taking any longer. I leaned forward. “Hey,” I said. “If you can get me there in five, there's an extra fifty for you.”
“Fasten your seat belt.”
He stomped on the gas and wove around the cars. Near as I could tell, the lanes on the streets of New York City were mostly for decoration. Cars zipped from lane to lane whether or not there was room, and I kept br
acing for impact. The cab driver clipped a car or two but didn't seem to notice. He just kept going. He whipped around the corner, and pedestrians leaped back onto the sidewalk. One woman shook her fist and shouted, “Hey! I'm walkin' here!”
The cabbie didn't notice. He bounced over the curb to get around a bus and cut off a bicycle messenger as he shot back across two lanes of traffic.
“Are you enjoying your visit to New York?” the cabbie asked as he slammed on his brakes to avoid a collision.
“Hang on, Isabel,” I said and pointed to the road. “Watch out.”
“It's all good,” the cabbie said.
“Yeah, I'm new in town, but for now I'm living here.”
“Makes sense,” he said with a nod. “You didn't seem like a New Yorker to me.”
“Accent give me away?”
He laughed.
I returned to my phone call. “Sorry, Isabel. You doing all right?”
“I'm scared but I think I'm okay. Just hurry. I'll let you go.”
“I'll call you as soon as I'm out front.”
“Good,” she said and hung up.
“Booty call?” the cabbie asked.
“No,” I said.
“If you want to meet some girls, I can set something up.”
“Thanks, I'm fine.”
“Change your mind, give me a call.” He handed a business card back over the seat.
I accepted the card and tucked it in my back pocket without looking at it.
“Two more blocks,” he said.
He came to a stop at a traffic light, eased out into the intersection, and honked his horn. I'd heard more horns honking in the few weeks I'd been in New York than I'd heard in all my years living in Denver.
“You okay?” the cabbie asked.
“Still adjusting to the pace of the city,” I said.
“Don't I know it. This city has a heartbeat. You gotta tune in and roll with the flow.”
A minute later, he screeched to a halt in front of Isabel's brownstone. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” I said.
“You got my number,” he said. “You need a ride or you need some girls, you give me a call.”
“Thanks.” I bolted from the cab and raced up to the steps as I called Isabel back on my cell. I stared up at the upper levels but didn't see anything amiss.
Isabel didn't offer a greeting. She simply answered, “Are you here?”
“Yes. Buzz me in.”