The Death Dealer (Harrison Investigation #6)

The Death Dealer (Harrison Investigation #6) Page 38

“That’s why some places that are haunted have more obvious manifestations than others,” Nikki explained. “The ghosts there have been around a while, and they’ve learned to manifest more strongly and to affect the physical realm, even to leave ‘their’ place and go out into the world. Leslie isn’t able to get out much yet,” she added.

“And Matt hates to leave her,” Brent put in.

“So Matt can go out?” Genevieve asked. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

Nikki nodded. “And he spoke to the spirit of Lori Star.”

“Of course,” Genevieve said, feeling her skepticism disappearing in the face of their matter-of-fact belief. “So why doesn’t she tell him who killed her?” she asked.

“She doesn’t know.”

“How the hell can she not know?” Genevieve demanded.

“Because he was disguised.”

“What? Did he dress up like a dragon or a giant turkey or something?”

“No,” Nikki said, laughing.

Genevieve took a deep breath. “But we do know she was killed by a man, at least.”

“She’s almost certain. Because her killer was very strong,” Nikki said.

“She’s almost certain? How can she not know if it was a man or a woman? What was the killer dressed up as?”

Nikki and Brent exchanged a glance. “Edgar Allan Poe,” he finally said.

After he’d walked out on lunch, Joe had pulled out his cell and given Raif a call and asked if the cops had come up with anything, but other than a stack of mostly anonymous and probably mistaken tips that Lori had been seen in various parts of the five boroughs, he had nothing.

“Shit, Joe. You know how it is,” Raif said. “We have to check out every lead. Policework has to be thorough. And being thorough takes time.”

Time.

Joe had a feeling he didn’t have much of it.

Joe thanked Raif and hung up, knowing the detective was right. Legwork took time, and it was frequently tedious.

He went back to his apartment to be alone, to think, and to do some legwork of his own, including calling the Ravens, starting with the women. His plan was not to ask them about the Sunday night when Lori had disappeared but to start casually with the previous night, when what had now been confirmed as an extra dose of morphine had almost finished Sam Latham.

Barbara Hirshorn was first on his list. He tried her at the library where she worked, and after a few minutes the young man who had answered the phone found her.

“Mr. Connolly?” she said curiously.

“Hi, Barbara, how are you doing?”

“I’m terrified, to tell you the truth. I’m afraid to walk through the stacks. Last night I couldn’t even stand to be at home after I left work. I was so glad everyone decided to go to the pub. Lila picked me up and saw me home, but I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I can’t afford to take the car service everywhere.”

“I’m sorry. What were you up to on Sunday, by the way?”

“I didn’t leave my apartment. I was too shaken up by Thorne’s death. Honestly, I’m so scared.”

He said something reassuring and hung up. According to what she’d volunteered, she’d gotten off work and gone straight home, but was there any proof of that? He was glad the police had decided to keep the attack on Sam a secret. Only the killer would know that anything had happened, so only he or she would think to come up with a lie, and lies could be found out.

He continued to make calls to see what the rest of the Ravens had to say. Last night Lila had gone straight from a fashion show to pick up her friends, and then she had gone to the pub. He could verify that, and he did. Lila Hawkins hadn’t left the showing on Fifth Avenue until seven, and based on what Barbara had said, the rest of the timing fit, too. According to her, she’d spent the Sunday at her daughter’s house on Long Island, and he would verify that, too, if need be.

Lou Sayles had picked up her kids, which he confirmed by calling the school. She’d spent Sunday with her family, at a Little League game, and the game checked out, though he would have to do more investigating to confirm that she had been there.

And Eileen…Maybe he shouldn’t have told her about the attempt on Sam’s life at the hospital, but it was too late to worry about that now.

He caught her at her desk. “Hi, Joe. I’ll see you at dinner, right?”

“Dinner? Where?”

She laughed. “Well, I suppose we should all be getting a bit sick of it, but…O’Malley’s.”

“Sure, I guess. Later,” he said. “So are you with Genevieve?” he asked, after satisfying himself as to her whereabouts at the times in question.

“No, she’s out with Adam, and Nikki and Brent.”

Joe winced. His own fault for walking out on the lunch, he supposed. “They would never leave her alone, would they?”

“Of course not,” Eileen assured him. “I thought that you were with them, as well.”

He heard the slight reproach in that, but thanked her and told her that he would see her later.

He called Mary Vincenzo next. Just as he was expecting to get her machine, she answered, sounding as if she had been sleeping. Or smoking dope. There was an odd mockery mixed with sensuality in her voice tone. “Why, Mr. Connolly, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“I was wondering where you were last night?” he asked after the usual pleasantries, opting to be direct with her.

“Jealous?” she drawled.

“If you don’t mind answering…”

“You’re not the cops.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. You’re everyone’s savior, aren’t you, Mr. Connolly?”

“Mrs. Vincenzo, if you would just—”

“I prefer being called Mary,” she said, interrupting him.

“Mary, if you don’t mind…”

“I was at Jared’s penthouse. If you must know, we were fucking.”

“We?”

“Jared and I.”

“What about Sunday?”

“Let me see…Sunday. Hmm. Oh, we were fucking then, too.”

“He must be quite the Energizer Bunny,” he told her pleasantly.

She was silent for a moment, and he realized with a flash of insight that she hadn’t been sleeping or getting stoned. She’d been drinking.

“Can anyone verify that you were there all day?”

“Are you suggesting that we invite people in to watch us while we’re fucking?” she drawled insinuatingly.

“Can anyone verify you were together at Jared’s penthouse?”

“Maybe we should have people over,” she mused. “I mean, they talk about us already. You talked about us. In fact, you knew about us. When others didn’t. Maybe we should have you over. You could even join us, if you’d like. How big are you down there, Mr. Connolly?”

“Thanks for talking to me, Mary,” he said, and hung up, then put her name right under Jared’s in the “potentially guilty” column.

He didn’t like her, so maybe that wasn’t fair. If it came to that, he didn’t like Jared, either. But the truth was that Jared was the major beneficiary of his father’s death, and Mary benefitted through Jared.

He kept calling and making lists. He was certain the police were making the same lists and decided they ought to compare them.

Larry Levine had once again been at the newspaper, something Joe had no trouble verifying. The reporter couldn’t remember what he’d done during the day on Sunday, but he’d been drinking at O’Malley’s—of course—most of the evening, and a legitimate alibi for Sunday automatically made him a less likely suspect, so…scratch Larry.

Don Tracy had been at the theater until almost seven. He wouldn’t have had much time to get to the hospital. Possible, but unlikely. Still…And on Sunday he’d had a matinee, but matinees were over by five or five-thirty.

Nat Halloway had been at his office until he left for the pub, in plain view of half a dozen people yesterday afternoon. Sunday he’d been home alone.

Finally Joe called the Bigelow mansion. Albee Bennet answered after the third ring.

“Hi, Albee. Joe Connolly here”

“Mr. Connolly, hello. Can I help you in some way?”

“Routine, Albee. Where were you on Sunday?”

“Here, Mr. Connolly. I don’t seem to have the heart to do much else but stay home. Mr. Jared is still up in the air about what to do with the place.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Happily, I will be. I won’t be rich, but I’m sure that Thorny saw to it that I’d be taken care of.”

“So you stay home night and day, do you?” Joe asked.

“Pretty much so, Mr. Connolly.”

“Joe.”

“Pretty much so, Mr. Joe. Last night I raided the DVD library. I watched three old movies, made some popcorn.”

“Very nice,” Joe said. “Well, thank you.”

He hesitated then, thinking about the information Brent had passed on about the other two deaths. “Albee?”

“Yes, Mr. Joe?”

“Did Thorny—Mr. Bigelow—like to travel a lot? When he was researching his book, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly. We got around. We spent a lot of time in Philly.”

“What about Richmond, say, or Baltimore?”

“I can’t remember dates offhand, but, yes, we were down there.”

“You and Mr. Bigelow?”

“Oh, yes. And Jared, of course. And Miss Mary.”

Jared and Mary, too? Now things were really getting interesting, Joe thought.

CHAPTER 16

Genevieve had to admit to being surprised when she saw Joe walk into the pub.

“Joe, hello,” she slurred somewhat drunkenly as he pulled up a chair at the end of the table.