Hell's Horizon (15 page)

I steepled my hands, cleared my throat and crab-talked up to the big questions. “You remember you told me you wanted to help find out who killed Nic?” She nodded. “You know I’ve been making investigations?” She nodded again. “Well, there’s a few… That is, if you don’t mind, I’d like to…”

She laughed. “Spit it out. I won’t take offense, whatever it is.”

“It gets pretty personal,” I warned her.

She tipped her glass at me and lowered her lids. “Here’s to getting personal.”

I stared at the table, even though I should have been watching her face to gauge whether she was answering truthfully or not. “You lied about not knowing Rudi Ziegler.”

A brief pause, then, “Yes. I go a couple of times a month. It amuses me. I let him play with his mirrors and summon fake spirits. I gasp, clap my hands and shake in my chair, like on a ghost train, then pay up and trot along home. He’s a fabulous entertainer.”

“Have you seen him since Nic’s death, apart from at the funeral?”

“Yes. I introduced Nic to him. If he was involved in her murder, I would have felt partly to blame. I asked if he knew anything about it. He told me he didn’t. I believed him.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I don’t know.” She tossed her hair. “Maybe I didn’t want to seem like a silly girl who throws her money away on cheap spooks.”

“Maybe there were other reasons.”

“Maybe,” she admitted coolly.

I waited for her to break the silence. I didn’t want to push any more than I had to. Finally she sighed and took a drink.

“OK. There were things I didn’t want you finding out.
Seeeecrets
.” She made a big production of the word. “I thought if you knew about Rudi, you might worm them out of him.”

“Why mention him at all if that was the case?”

“I figured you’d know about him anyway and it would look suspicious if I played dumb.”

“These secrets,” I said, watching my fingers curl into involuntary fists. “Was one of them about you and Nic? What you did in your spare time?”

A long silence. Then, “Don’t play it coy, Al. What exactly are you asking?”

I blurted it out. “Were you and Nic hookers?”

She reacted calmly. “Yes. I introduced her to
that
as well.” A slow, measured drink. “Some friend, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

She finished her drink and crooked a finger at the waiter. I left my glass where it was. She didn’t say anything until the next pi≁a colada arrived.

“It wasn’t about money. Not for Nic anyway—she was loaded. I did it for the cash occasionally, but most of the time for fun. Picking up rich guys and taking them to slums. Latching on to a bum and treating him to a night at the Skylight. Doing things we could never ask our boyfriends to do.”

“How long had this been going on?”

“I’d been doing it since my late teens. Nic only started a year or so ago.”

“Was she doing it while dating me?” I asked, thinking of the times I’d made love to her without a condom.

“Not often—the game had lost a lot of its appeal—but yes. The night of her murder…” She stalled.

“Go on,” I prompted her.

She shook her head and gasped, “I can’t.”

When a long silence followed, a silence she showed no sign of breaking, I prodded her back into life. “I know you were at the Skylight.”

Her head shot up. She’d been on the verge of tears but the shock froze them at the corners of her eyes. “
How
?”

“I told you I’ve been investigating.” A smug grin almost made it to my lips but I thrust it back just in time.

Priscilla slowly twisted her glass, first to the left, then to the right, eyes on the drops of condensation as they slid toward the base. She started talking and didn’t look up until she was finished unburdening herself.

“Nic set up a trick. We were meant to do him together—she liked three-way action. I arrived in advance and booked the room. Eight-one-two. Signed in as Jane Dowe, as I always did in hotels. Headed for the bar. On the way I ran into an old customer. I don’t have regulars, but this was a Chinese businessman I’d been with several times. He asked me up to his room. I said I had a prior engagement. He told me to name my price.”

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“None of your business,” she responded sharply. “Besides, he was only here for a couple of days. He’s back in Hong Kong now.”

“Hard to check on,” I commented.

“If I’d known what was going to happen,” she said bitterly, “I’d have arranged a more convenient alibi.”

“Let’s get back to the Skylight,” I said quietly. “He told you to name your price. Then?”

“We haggled—the Chinese love to haggle—and arrived at an acceptable sum. He had some business to attend to. Gave me the card to his room, told me to let myself in. I struck for the bar first and ordered a drink. Nic turned up. I explained the change of plan.”

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t mind. Business is business.”

“She didn’t seem scared or apprehensive?”

“No.”

“You don’t think she had any idea of what was coming?”

“Hardly.”

“What happened next?”

“She went her way, I went mine.”

“That was it?”

“Yes. I gave her the card to 812 before she left.”

“She went straight up?”

“I presume so. I didn’t leave with her—I’d slipped off my shoes, so I stayed a few seconds to put them back on.”

“Did she tell you the name of her john?”

I could see Priscilla’s withering smile in the panels of the glass. “We’d hardly be sitting here talking if she had. I wouldn’t have let shame stop me from revealing the name of her killer if I knew it.”

“You didn’t see him? He wasn’t in the lobby?”

“Nic had gone up by the time I came out of the bar.”

“She didn’t say anything about him? His nationality, job, if he was rich or poor, what he looked like?”

“Nothing.” Her fingers stopped twirling the glass and she gripped it firmly. “My Chinaman was in poor form that night. I finished early—about half past eleven—and started for home. I was on the sixth floor. As I got into the elevator, I thought about joining Nic and her companion. I almost did.”

“What stopped you?”

She sighed. “I was tired. Went home and got a good night’s sleep instead, rare for a Friday. I rang Nic the next day. Didn’t think anything of it when there was no answer. I didn’t connect her absence with the trick in the Skylight until…”

She broke off and took several deep breaths. The tears had forced their way back and were rolling down her cheeks.

“From what I read, she was still alive at half past eleven,” Priscilla moaned. “If I’d gone up, or if I’d gone with her earlier, when I was meant to…”

“You might have been killed too,” I said, touching her hand briefly, wishing to be supportive without seeming forward.

“Or I might have saved her,” she sobbed. “She was alone. The first time she pulled a trick, she begged me to go with her—she was afraid. I told her not to be silly and sent her off with him, laughing. I should have been there. I…”

Again she broke off, and this time I knew there’d be no recovery. Our interview was at a close. I covered her hands with mine—I felt confident enough to make real contact this time—and made soft, cooing noises, gently guiding her back to normal conversation.

She smiled weakly once the worst had passed. “Thank you,” she said.

“For reducing you to tears? I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“No.” She took one of her hands from mine and wiped tears from her face, then tenderly laid her palm against my left cheek. It was cool from the glass. “It was good that you confronted me. I needed to confess. It was tearing me apart. This way it’s out in the open. I can cry about it now and maybe start to forgive myself.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I assured her. She made a face, then set about restoring her looks, wiping away the worst of the tears, applying makeup while I sat twiddling my thumbs, wishing I were holding her hands again.

Snapping her compact shut, she rose. I was getting up to walk her to her cab when she laid a hand on my forearm and smiled. “It’s OK. Finish your drink. I’ll settle the check on my way.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I said, but she squeezed lightly and stopped me.

“Please, Al. I’d like to be alone. I’ll give you a call soon, when I feel better.”

“OK,” I said. “But let me pay. I arranged this meeting, so it’s only fair that—”

“I won’t argue about it.” She grinned, made a fast turn and scurried away, only to find her path blocked by another woman. They collided, clutched at each other to prevent a fall, then separated. “I’m sorry,” Priscilla said. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Not at all,” the other woman replied. “You had the right-of-way. I should have… What the hell are you doing in a suit?” This last part was addressed to me.

“You know each other?” Priscilla asked, politely standing aside so that Ellen—early for once in her life—had a clear view of me.

“Yes.” I rose awkwardly, as if caught in a clandestine embrace—for a second I forgot we were divorced—and welcomed my second guest of the night. “Priscilla, I’d like you to meet Ellen Fraser. Ellen, Priscilla Perdue.”

“Doubling up on dates, Al?” Ellen mocked me. “You’re getting cheap in your old age.”

“Please,” Priscilla said quickly, “don’t get the wrong idea. We weren’t here on a date. It was merely a—”

Ellen laughed and raised her hands. “No need to apologize. I’m not dating the sap either.”

Priscilla blinked and looked at me questioningly.

“Ellen and I used to be married,” I muttered.

“
Oh
.” She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and made the sign for buttoning her lips. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Ellen said.

“I was going anyway,” Priscilla told her, then winked at me and said goodbye.

Ellen watched Priscilla march away in her skimpy top and skirt, a sly smile twitching the edges of her mouth. “New girl?” she asked casually.

“A friend of a friend,” I answered truthfully.

She turned the full force of her gaze on me. “So that’s what friends of friends are wearing these days.”

“Skip it,” I mumbled gruffly. “Let’s order.”

“Yes, Romeo,” she said, hiding behind a menu to cover her smirk.

Ellen asked what the occasion was while we were waiting for the meal to arrive. She always came straight to the point.

“You heard about the girl who was murdered in the Skylight last Thursday?” That was the official public date of her death.

“Sure. The papers have been making a meal of it. They love taking jabs at The Cardinal. It’s not often they get the chance.”

“I knew her,” I said.

Ellen frowned. “Socially?”

“We were lovers.” I’d meant to present a condensed version of the facts—keeping The Cardinal and the extent of my involvement out of it—but I’d never been good at keeping secrets from Ellen. Soon the whole story was tumbling out. I told her about my fling with Nic, how I’d found her, when she’d been killed, what I’d learned of her since then, my meetings with The Cardinal, Priscilla, Ziegler and the rest. The only cards I played close to my chest were Paucar Wami, the vision I’d had and my father. Knowing about Wami might scare her off when I asked her for help. I would have been embarrassed talking about the vision. And Tom Jeery was my concern alone.

The tale took us through dinner and dessert, and on to coffee. She listened quietly, displaying no emotions other than an occasional raised eyebrow, and kept her questions to a minimum.

When I finished she shook her head, sipped at her coffee and said, “Wow.” I held my tongue, knowing there’d be more once she’d thought on it some. “The Cardinal. After all these years. Is he as impressive as they say?”

“He’s more imposing than anyone I’ve met, but there’s something small-time about him, like he’s this tough kid in the biggest sandbox in the city.”

“You used to say you’d run for the hills if The Cardinal took a personal interest in you,” she reminded me.

“I almost did. If not for Nic…”

“How close
were
you two?”

“Not very. I hadn’t guessed how duplicitous she was. I knew she’d been around but I’d no idea she was a…” I didn’t like to say it, so I didn’t. “There was very little romance in it.”

“So why get involved now that she’s dead?” A blunt but fair query.

“Because she was a friend and I value friendship.”

“Or because you like the idea of cracking the case and being king for an hour?” Ellen suggested, seeing inside my mind as she’d always been able to.

“Would it be so bad if I did? You always said I was meant for better things.”