Even at this distance from the stage, the air was dank and clammy – all that blood. And there was a stink of defecation and the dead man’s dinner, undigested before he was cut in two.
Detective Riker had arrived to find Mallory leaning into the glass coffin. She had allowed him to wash the blood off her hands, but pushed him away when he made a mess of her cashmere blazer, smearing and spreading the red stains with wet paper towels.
Now she sat at a desk near the stage door. A lamp cast her rigid shadow on a nearby wall of message boxes. She seemed unaware of the odors and the heavy traffic of patrolmen and detectives, the medical examiner’s investigators and the district attorney’s man. Her eyes were blind to everything in the immediate world.
Riker knew she was replaying Franny Futura’s death in her mind, repeating the images over and over, hunting for the imperfections in her work.
And that must stop.
He accepted a paper cup from a stagehand and gave the man five dollars for his trouble. Mallory eyed the container with mild suspicion, and Riker took that as a sign that she was feeling more herself.
He placed the cup in her hand. „It’s water.“
She took one sip. „It’s not.“
„Oh, that’s the booze you’re tasting. But there’s water in there, too. Drink it all down, kid. You need the vitamins.“ Riker thought she might also need a blood transfusion. He glanced toward the stage where two men were lifting the body from the coffin. When he turned back to his partner, her paper cup was drained, and she was crumpling it in a tight fist. Another good sign.
„They suckered me, Riker.“
This was true, and they would probably get away with it, but he would never throw that up to her. He pulled out his notebook. „The first cop on the scene took statements from the old guy’s assistants. They all thought the voice in the coffin was a microphone.“
She nodded. „A two-way feed. The sound equipment is in the back room. It worked like an intercom with a stuck button.“
„These magicians all swear they saw Futura leave the coffin before the pendulum dropped. How could – “
„They’re not magicians,“ said Mallory. „Just a pack of chorus boys. What they saw was a man in a red cape. That was Malakhai. He ducked under the coffin drapes and came out again on cue. The boys were so busy dancing their little brains out, none of them noticed that Malakhai was taller.“ Her face lifted, and she was staring at the suspension bridge overhead. „I would’ve caught that if I hadn’t been up there on the catwalk.“
„Don’t beat yourself up.“ He held out a copy of Faustine’s rod with a single key plug screwed into the end. „Look familiar? We found this near the body. It looks like Futura dropped it before he could unlock his cuffs.“
She only glanced at it. „That’s probably Malakhai’s key. Franny didn’t plan to use real handcuffs. Malakhai switched the breakaways for real ones. That’s how he killed the old man.“
„So then Malakhai plan ted a key? Pretty slick. We’ll never prove murder.“
„I never saw Malakhai go on stage, never saw him duck under the table. Prado’s job was misdirection. If I can’t nail him for Oliver’s murder, I’ll get him on conspiracy for this one.“
„I don’t think so, kid. Malakhai did the hands-on murder. There’s nothing to tie Prado to conspiracy.“ Riker pulled up a wooden chair next to hers and straddled it, resting his folded arms across the back. „We can’t even make a case for motive.“
„I should’ve shot Malakhai on sight,“ said Mallory. „And I knew that. Another mistake.“
Riker looked over his shoulder to see Jack Coffey walking toward them with a damp raincoat slung over his shoulder. Had the lieutenant heard that last remark?
Coffey stopped in front of the desk. He wore his bad-news face as he looked down at Mallory. „I just finished with Prado. He claims you contributed to the accidental death of Futura. He says you actually prevented him from assisting the – “
„Prado engineered that homicide,“ said Mallory. „The act didn’t need any help. It worked just fine. Franny Futura is really, really dead.“
Riker put one hand on her shoulder to keep her from leaving the chair. „Easy, kid. Nobody believes it’s an accident. But Prado just killed the case. The newspapers will say it was your fault. Then they’ll crucify the whole department.“
Coffey sat on the edge of the desk. „Prado says he isn’t going to put that version in his formal statement. When he told me that, it had the smell of a deal. I’m taking your side on this, Mallory, but we can’t arrest either one of them. They both walk away.“
Mallory’s voice was too calm. „Did you take a close look at what they did? That didn’t make you sick?“
Riker was staring at her hands, folded tightly over one another to hide the slight tremor. This was not a symptom of frayed nerves, but a warning sign that she was close to losing her temper, her judgment and her job. She was containing the anger, but how long would that last?
Lieutenant Coffey nodded toward a man standing near the ladder of the suspension bridge. He was in his late twenties with a dark raincoat and a pasty-white face. „That’s Crane. He’s an assistant DA and a real jerk. But he’s the man on this one, and he says it’s a flat no. The DA’s office won’t even look at the case.“
Crane joined the small party of three, but stood a pronounced distance from Coffey. The man looked down at Mallory, as if from some lofty height. And Riker gathered that this was supposed to put the detective in her place.
But she was making her own assessments, openly appraising the lawyer’s cheap raincoat commensurate with the starting salary of an ADA. Even Riker could see that the sleeves were miles too long. Mallory’s tailor would have spat on that coat.
The man’s voice was an annoying nasal whine. „I understand all of Max Candle’s illusions were dangerous. And these people you’re accusing? Decorated war heroes, both of them. Their character reference is Emile St. John, a former bureau chief for Interpol.“ The assistant district attorney placed both hands on the desk and leaned entirely too close to Mallory. „You screwed up royally, Detective. If anyone sues the city for your part in this death, I’m going to throw – “
The assistant DA lost his place in this spiel which smacked of rehearsal. Though Mallory hardly moved, even a dense fool like Crane must realize that she really wanted to hurt him, and pain could only be moments away.
The lawyer pulled back and stood closer to Coffey as he made a show of straightening his tie. Then Crane’s lip curled up on one side, and Riker wondered if that little gesture of contempt had been perfected in a shaving mirror.
„It was a clear accident,“ said Crane. „The man dropped his handcuff key. Any idiot could see that. So why do I have to explain these simple facts to a cop? The next time you drag me out on a crime scene, you get your facts straight. Use your head. Open your eyes. Do you understand vat, Detective?“
Tomorrow morning, Mallory would become the joke of the district attorney’s office. This time, she would eat the humiliation – or maybe not. She was rising off the chair, but Riker had a tight grip on the back of her trench coat.
Jack Coffey’s expression was close to evil, almost a Mallory smile. „Riker, what do you think you’re doing? If she wants to deck the weasel, that’s her call.“
Riker’s hand dropped away, and he turned his eyes upward to study the neon sign over the door, as if the word EXIT might be a difficult read.
And now it was Mallory’s turn to smile.
„Wait, I changed my mind.“ Coffey stabbed the assistant DA with two fingers to the man’s chest, pushing him back a step. „You’re a real screwup, Crane. I saw the evidence – all of it.“ He jabbed the man’s chest again for emphasis. „I say she’s got a case. You’re too stupid or too scared to run with it.“
The lawyer’s face was going slack. He was sliding into shock, and with good reason. In the hierarchy of cops and prosecutors, this should not be happening to him.
„This is obviously your first day on the job,“ said Coffey. „So I’m not gonna list your mistakes in my report. If I did, your boss would ask me why I didn’t kick your sorry ass.“
What mistakes?
Riker knew the district attorney would never side with Jack Coffey. Come morning, the chief prosecutor would be all over the lieutenant for this transgression. It was policy and common practice to use cops for punching bags when the young princes of the DA’s office were thwarted or merely miffed. And a seasoned lawyer would know that. So it probably was Crane’s first day on the job.
And now Riker recognized this tango of brazenly shifting guilt and leading with a mouthful of lies. Lieutenant Coffey was taking lessons from Mallory.
They were all doomed.
Coffey glanced at his watch. „Tell you what, Crane. I’m gonna give you a ten-second running head start.“
The lieutenant moved toward the lawyer, and Crane retreated, no longer puffing out his chest in a last-ditch effort to convey the idea that he was still in charge. He was clearly confused, probably wondering what he had missed, what error he had made – the hallmark of a green ADA. Lieutenant Coffey had pegged the lawyer right; he was a weasel, and now the man was slinking away, gently closing the stage door behind him. In Riker’s lights, this was a good omen. If Crane intended to get even, if revenge was in his mind, the door would have slammed.
A clear win.
Coffey was facing the stage as he spoke to Mallory. „You’ve got nowhere to go with this case. It wasn’t a perfect murder, but damn close.“ He watched the medical examiner’s men reuniting the body parts in a long black zippered bag. „You got zero chance of Prado confessing to conspiracy. And no physical evidence of murder. Now Malakhai’s a certified card-carrying lunatic. Suppose you got a confession from him? A madman’s testimony is no good, not against himself or anyone else.“
Mallory’s hands unfolded and relaxed on the arms of the wooden chair. Her voice was listless. „If we could get this case in front of a jury, I could diagram the whole thing.“
Coffey shook his head. For the first time, he seemed reluctant to win an argument with her. „It all hangs on your testimony, Mallory. Nick Prado will kill your credibility if he hangs this death on you.“ He pulled on his raincoat as the gurney moved past the desk, pushed along by the medical examiner’s men. „I’m sorry you couldn’t save that old guy. I’m glad you tried.“ The lieutenant watched the progress of the rolling body bag until it had cleared the stage door. „Mallory? If I’d given you the manpower you wanted – “
„It wouldn’t have made any difference.“ She rested her head on the back of the chair. „It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.“
Coffey turned away from her and walked out the stage door.
Riker inched his chair closer to Mallory. „You really blew it, kid. If you’d said it was Coffey’s fault, you could’ve used that on him down the road. Nothin’ like guilt in the bank.“ He put his hand on her forehead. „Are you feeling okay?“
She brushed him away.
„No fever,“ said Riker. „Well, your old man always said you’d grow up to be a class act. I guess that’s the only explanation.“
So this was her idea of payback for nailing the weasel. And Jack Coffey had done that with style, a smooth beau geste without a drop of sweat or a blink – all to save Mallory’s face. It was damn near romantic.
Of course, the stress would make the rest of Coffey’s hair fall out overnight, but he would still be beautiful to Riker in the morning.
Mallory pulled her gun from the holster and set it down on the desk. „What else have we got? Anything? I bet no one remembers seeing Malakhai in the theater, right?“
„No one can put him on the scene.“ Riker never took his eyes off her gun. A suicide watch was standard practice for a cop involved in a bloody killing, but Mallory would get no such service for an accidental death.
„What about motive for the first one? You think Oliver Tree really knew how Louisa died?“
„No, he was just a nice old man.“ She picked up the gun and turned it over in her hands. „But he was brave, wasn’t he? All those arrows.“
„Yeah, he was.“ Riker understood how much Oliver Tree had meant to her. But she was already on a first-name basis with the new corpse, Franny Futura, and that worried him. There was a possessive quality to the way she pronounced his name.
She was not done yet.
„You did good. It’s not your fault that – “ And now he watched her pull back the hammer on her revolver. „Mallory, you know Coffey’s right. There’s nothing more you can do.“
Certainly nothing legal.
His eyes were still on the revolver in her hands. Even without his glasses, the damage to the firing pin was obvious. Though he would wonder about that for a long time to come, he would never ask how it had happened. He put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. „You’re only human, kid.“
Mallory smiled. „But you’re not really sure about that, are you, Riker?“ She slid the broken gun into her holster. „Drive me home?“
„Sure thing. You wanna change clothes?“
„Something like that.“
The long room was paneled in dark wood. Plush red leather couches and chairs were arranged in conversational groupings, and the far wall was lined with bottles and a long mirror above the mahogany bar. For lack of customers, a cocktail waitress passed the time in low conversation with the bartender. They were too far away to be overheard.
Mallory stood near the archway of the lounge, facing the wide dining room entrance across a narrow hallway. She watched the waiter’s progress through the many tables set with crystal and linen, wine and food. The man had not yet found Malakhai among the patrons at this private party.
It was a window on another time. Fur wraps were draped on the chairs of women who showed no fear of assault by political spittle. Illicit smoke curled upward from long cigarette holders, and bright jewels flashed sparks of light from bracelets and rings. Champagne corks were popping, and the music of another era swelled up and floated back across the divide of the hall. Two people were slow-dancing between the tables, and other outlaws were rising to join them in this unlicensed, untaxed pleasure.
And behind her, the December rain was drumming on the glass.
Malakhai emerged from the dining room and walked toward the lounge. He was happy to see her. Perhaps he misunderstood her visit, taking it as a graceful gesture of defeat.
She felt lighter in the body as he drew closer. And there was a quickening in her chest where the most vital organ should be, but none other than Dr. Slope had said she did not have a heart. An ache was rising in her throat. She knew what that was; it came with sorrow, but she could not understand it – not here, not now. And so she put it down to the frayed nerves of closing on endgame. She was here to call Malakhai out and finish him off.
„Mallory, I hope you’ll let me pay for wrecking your gun.“
„Don’t worry about it.“ She unbelted her trench coat. „I have lots of guns.“ She opened her blazer to display the.38 in her holster. „This one works just fine.“
He was standing very close to her. Her pulse was racing. And this excitement going on beneath her skin? Nerves, only that. Such a long night. Almost over.
„Come to the party?“ Malakhai glanced at the dining room for a moment. „Or were you planning to make an arrest for illegal dancing?“
Mallory looked into the other room. „I thought they might’ve canceled it – because of the accident.“
„Most of these people were at Carnegie Hall tonight,“ said Malakhai. „No one’s come in from Faustine’s yet. I may have forgotten to mention the incident.“
„But you remember killing a man. You know I’ll get you for that.“
„Ah, the arrest – that’s the main thing, isn’t it? Nick says there won’t be one. But I have more faith in you. Of course, by the time you make a case, I probably won’t remember why you’re arresting me. I hope that doesn’t spoil it. I hate disappointing you.“ Perversely, he seemed sincere in this. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He was moving closer.
Mallory did not back away, but she did warn him off with the slow shake of her head. „I think I can get a warrant before your brain turns to soup.“
He smiled as if this were a great joke. „The strokes are coming faster now. Years are disappearing. Entire decades are mostly smoke.“
„So I was right, wasn’t I? Louisa’s gone?“
„She’s been gone a long time.“
„But she was there when you took a shot at Futura. Louisa wouldn’t let you do it, would she?“
He shook his head in mild confusion.
So this was one more mystery she would never have the answer to – like the way he had worked a dead woman’s shadow. Curiously, Mallory had more faith in Malakhai’s wife than he did. If Louisa had not died a second time, Franny might have lived.
He put out one hand to touch her hair. „Right now, this moment – it’s just you and me.“ He bowed his head, bringing his face closer to hers. „I hope to die before I forget you, Kathy Mallory.“
She listened to the rain drumming on the windowpane behind her. One moment strung into the next. His arm moved around her shoulder, and he was leading her toward the dining room.
„So come to the party.“ His voice was stronger now. „We’ll break the law while I still remember how to dance.“
Mallory pulled back, shook him off, and still he was not seeing her as an opponent – a good time to slip in a knife. What would it take to convince him that he had murdered the wrong man? Nick Prado was standing on the other side of the narrow hall, and she knew the same idea was crossing his mind as he watched their conversation with great interest.
With just the right words, the right timing, she could aim Malakhai at Prado and commit a perfect murder with proxy hands.
Prado was a serial killer – three deaths. He was so good at this. She had underestimated him – another mistake. But now she could do the same thing better, quicker – and get clean away with it. Prado would die, and Malakhai would be effectively destroyed when he knew he had killed the wrong man. A little justice for everyone.
Her trench coat was parted. The holster was exposed as she casually drew the blazer material to one side. Malakhai had already had some practice in taking her gun tonight. She only had to point him toward the target standing just across the hall.
This is going to be so easy.
But now, slowly and with deep regret, she closed her coat, hiding the gun and cinching the leather with a hard tug on her belt. Justice had nothing to do with her job. She was only the law.
Prado drifted back into the party. Opportunity was walking away from her.
She turned her face to Malakhai, ready to begin his slow destruction. This would be done the long way, the right way – with lies upon lies.
He must have taken the cinched belt as a signal of goodbye. His eyes were full of disappointment as he stared at her across the gap of three steps. She was aware of every detail of the night, shimmers from a sea of sequins in the room behind him, wavering flames of candlelight. She heard the clink of glasses. A bottle crashed to the floor and freed bubbles of bright laughter floated up with the music.
His head tilted to one side, trying to understand her, as if he could. „I’ll never see you again, will I?“
„You’ll see me when I come to arrest you in the morning. The paperwork will hit my desk at nine,“ she lied.
„There’s no case for – “
„Because Prado said so? He thinks like an amateur, plots like one too.“
„You have no evidence.“
„I do – a very strong case for Louisa’s murder.“ A very weak case. „That’s your motive for the killing you did tonight.“
„But you can’t prove her death wasn’t an accident.“
„I can. I’ve got your testimony from the poker game and a postmortem interview conducted by a medical examiner, Dr. Slope. Expert testimony is admissible evidence.“ Not likely, but it had the ring of a true thing. „I have physical evidence – your cuff key from Faustine’s. I bet it was Nick’s idea to leave it near the body – stupid move. I ordered lab tests for DNA. It comes from the oil on your fingers.“ Heller would fall down laughing at that one.
She turned away from him. „You can plead insanity. You can trot out Louisa, have her do a few cheap tricks in open court. But then I get to tell them how Franny died.“
Malakhai reached out and gently turned her face back to his. „You called him by his first name. You don’t care about Franny’s crimes anymore, do you?“ His voice was incredulous. „It’s all changed now.“
She brushed his hand away.
Malakhai’s hand slowly dropped to his side. „Franny was that damn cat in the burning building, wasn’t he?“
What is he talking about?
He was reading this question on her face.
„That psychiatrist’s report,“ he said. „The one test question you got right – the one little piece of you that you’re really proud of. You wanted to carry your damn cat out of the fire – only because Franny was a living, breathing…“ His words tapered off to nothing. He stared at her, as if she had somehow betrayed him with this one small thing she had gotten right.
„I’m sorry, Mallory.“
„Sorry doesn’t get it. This is nothing to do with me. A man died tonight.“ The wrong man. „And you’re going to pay for that.“ All that blood.
„You know it’ll be a year before this comes to trial. The doctors say I’ll be dead by then.“
„I know.“ But there was all that pain. The screams. Franny would not stop calling out for help.
„Then what’s the point, Mallory?“
„I’ll still have Nick Prado and Emile St. John.“
His hand gripped the back of a leather chair, as if he might need this support.
She moved closer for the final shot. They were almost done. „I’m going for a triple indictment, naming them as coconspirators. It makes a stronger case with three of you. You can’t all plead insanity. But Prado never saw that far ahead – freaking amateur.“
„Emile had nothing to do with this.“
„I know that. You think I care? If he had cooperated with me – “ If he had betrayed every friend – „He withheld information.“ He had understood why Franny killed Louisa. Mallory had given him the motive when she told him about Prado’s betrayal. St. John had elected not to destroy the survivors with the truth. Mallory had no such qualms about destruction – and yet she stopped short of telling Malakhai he had killed the wrong man.
Malakhai was already badly wounded – they both were. Mallory could not shake the images of a pendulum’s slicing razor.
„St. John was a first-rate cop,“ said Mallory. „He was always the strongest one – and the weak link – too moral for cold-blooded murder.“ She could still hear Franny screaming. „St. John’s part was so passive he could walk if he turned state’s evidence. But we both know he’ll never do that. I’ll get all of you.“ She forced a smile and gave equal weight to each word of the bluff. „I can’t lose.“
„You’re wrong, Mallory. Emile is innocent.“
„He had guilty knowledge. That’s all I need for conspiracy.“ Blood streamed down the faces in the audience. „And here’s the kicker.“ Malakhai, can you hear the pendulum hissing through the air? „I won’t even have to prove it. St. John will write out a full confession and save the state the cost of a trial. And since he’s taking the fall anyway, he’ll take it for you and Nick. He’ll go to jail for you, maybe die for you.“ Penance for the executioner of the Maquis.
„He’s innocent.“
Franny screamed again. All that pain.
„What do I care who goes down?“ said Mallory. „As long as somebody pays.“ She was seeing the blood as it flew off the pendulum and struck the faces in the audience. „I don’t have any more time to waste on you. I’ll do my deal with St. John.“ She turned her back on him and walked toward the door, and Franny went with her, crying out for help, bleeding from his wounds.
„Mallory?“
Malakhai came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from leaving him. She felt his face pressing into her hair. The blood, all that blood. This was her mantra. He whispered, „Suppose I save the state the cost of a trial? If I confess, you don’t need Nick or Emile, do you? They don’t even have to know about this conversation.“
Mallory saw the shadow move across the wall, but there was no one to cast it. She closed her eyes, so tired, seeing things that were not there. Franny was crying.
„What do I care?“ All that blood. „So long as somebody pays.“ One conviction was better than none. „But there are conditions.“
Mallory was thinking ahead to the defense attorney who would demolish the case before it ever went to court. Did she smell gardenias? Had she ever been this tired? She could hear Riker say again that she was only human. His voice was drowned out by Franny, who would not stop crying and screaming.
This had to end, and quickly.
The attorney – right. With documentation of insanity, any first-year law student could nullify a signed confession.
„Conditions.“ She opened her eyes. There was no shadow on the wall, and the interior screams had stopped. „You’ll waive your right to a lawyer when you write out your statement. There won’t be any case for extenuating circumstances – no medical reports, no psych evaluations.“
She could feel his warmth behind her, so close. His breath was in her hair.
„You’ll make a second confession in open court. After sentencing, you’ll be taken into custody.“ Something dark was moving in the corner of her eye, a shadow rising up the length of the wall, ready to strike.
No, there’s nothing there.
„Then you’ll go straight to prison. No postponements, no legal games to buy you any time.“ There was no woman to make that shadow. Louisa had died more than half a century ago.
„Agreed,“ said Malakhai. „Tomorrow morning I’ll write it all down. And tonight we’ll close the deal with a drink – one last glass of wine.“
His hands fell away from her shoulders as she turned around to face him, saying, „I won’t drink with you.“
Malakhai stepped back. „No, of course you won’t.“ He was finally altogether broken. It was in his face, more sorrow than she had ever seen. He inclined his head in the ghost of a bow, a gesture of good night, then turned away from her and strode across the lobby to cut a solitary swath through the partyers. She watched his back until he was swallowed by the crowd.
„You won’t drink with me either, will you?“ The front door was swinging shut as Emile St. John walked toward her. He carried no umbrella, and the rain ran off the brim of his hat when he tipped it in salute, saying, „It’s about choosing up sides.“
She nodded.
„You’re a good cop, Mallory.“ He turned away from her and walked into the dining area, where Charles Butler rose from his chair to slap the man’s back in a warm greeting. A young brunette sallied over to Nick Prado with a wineglass in her hand. He swept her up under one arm and ran with her across the room, stepping in time to music – upbeat, alive. The wine spilled, the smoke swirled. Mallory could hear the high notes of laughter across the narrow divide.
Life was always going on in another room.