The Killer in My Eyes (35 page)

Jordan started to go through the documents one by one, without taking them out. Between two birthday cards, he found a slightly faded colour photograph. Despite his scruples, he slid it out and held it carefully between his fingers, as if a brusque movement could somehow hurt the people in it. A very beautiful little boy stood, smiling shyly, between an austerely dressed man and woman, who were glowering at the camera. In the background a white wooden building could be seen, probably a church.

He checked inside the document holder but there was no other photograph. The whole of Lysa’s past was encapsulated in that single image, its colours already starting to fade. He recalled again what she had told him about her family, at the restaurant on the river.

When I left home, without even touching the door, I saw it closing behind me
. . .

He put the photo back where he had found it and continued going through the documents. Finally, in a transparent plastic folder, he found her Social Security card and insurance policy.

As he took them out of the folder, an envelope fell onto the bedspread. It was unsealed, with the flap simply tucked inside.

Jordan took it and turned it over. It was a simple white envelope, with nothing written on it, but Jordan was scared of what he might find inside.

He lifted the flap and, holding the envelope by the edges, emptied the contents on the bed.

They consisted of four slips of paper, each divided in half by a sharp diagonal cut, which someone had put together again with adhesive tape. His hands slightly unsteady, he laid them out side by side. There were four cheques, each for twenty-five thousand dollars, issued by the Chase Manhattan Bank, similar in every way to the fragment he had found in the pocket of the late DeRay Lonard, also known as Lord.

Except that these were made out to Alexander Guerrero.

Without realizing it, Jordan got to his feet and took a step back. He stood there, staring, dazed, at those rectangles of coloured paper. Then he put his hand in his pocket, took out his cellphone, and speed-dialled Burroni.

The detective replied at the second ring.

‘James, Jordan here.’

‘Hi. I heard you put on quite a firework display last night.’

‘Yes. A son of a bitch I sent to the can decided to have his revenge. Unfortunately, someone entirely innocent got caught in the crossfire.’

‘I heard. I’m sorry. How is she?’

‘Stable. The doctors are holding off on a prognosis for now. James, listen, the reason I’m calling you is that I need a favour.’

‘Anything you like.’

‘I’ll shortly be sending you a fax with a photocopy of part of a cashier’s cheque issued by the Chase Manhattan Bank. The name of the payee is partly missing, but it’s DeRay Lonard, the guy who shot at me last night. See if you can find out who requested the issue.’

For the moment, Jordan preferred not to talk about the cheques made out to Lysa that he had found in the apartment.

‘Got it. Anything else?’

‘Not for the moment.’

‘Then let me tell you the latest about Julius Wong. There are things coming out about him you wouldn’t believe. Your nephew may have been some kind of mad genius, but this guy’s a real nutjob. He’s still refusing to say a word, but we’ve discovered a couple of things that are strange, to say the least, from the point of view of coincidence.’

‘Such as?’

‘On 14 September 1993, in Troy, a town near Albany, in the branch of a local bank – the Troy Savings Bank – there was a robbery carried out by four masked people, who got away with almost thirty thousand dollars. And guess what kind of masks they were wearing?’

‘Plastic masks depicting characters from
Peanuts
. Linus, Lucy, Snoopy and Pig Pen, to be precise.’

Burroni was speechless for a moment.

‘Jordan, I don’t know how you do it, but your talents are wasted. But that’s not all.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘I’ll try. Among other things, we combed the area around Poughkeepsie, to a radius of about five or six miles. The owner of a bar recognized Julius Wong from the photographs he was shown. He claims that about ten days after the robbery in Troy, he overheard a heated discussion in his bar between Wong and three other people, two men and a woman, that didn’t degenerate into a fight only because the bar owner chased them out with a baseball bat. And he added that one of those three people was definitely your nephew.’

‘Maybe this’ll lead us to the motive, which is the one thing we don’t have. You’ve done a great job, James.’

As he was talking to Burroni, Jordan had moved to the living room, where reception was better. From the window he saw a taxi pull up at the sidewalk. Maureen got out, paid the driver, and immediately looked up at the building through dark glasses. Jordan leaned out and made a sign with his fingers to press the button for the third floor. Then he went to the entryphone to open the front door.

‘James, there’s something I need to do right now. Keep in touch.’

‘OK, speak to you soon.’

Jordan hung up and opened the door to the landing. He could hear the noise of the elevator coming up. A few moments later, Maureen stepped out and came towards him.

Jordan stood aside to let her in. She was walking with her back slightly stooped, and even with her glasses on he could sense that her eyes were tired of seeing what they were forced to see.

Jordan smiled at her, encouragingly. ‘Hello, Maureen. I’d like to say good afternoon, but I’m not sure it is.’ He pointed to the couch. ‘Sit down. Let’s talk.’

He realized that Maureen wanted nothing more than to get things off her chest, things she had carried alone until now. As soon as she had sat down, she immediately started telling him about the latest episode.

She spoke with her eyes down, so that she did not see the reaction she was provoking in Jordan as he stood listening to her.

When she had finished, he sat down next to her and took her hand. ‘Maureen, I just had a call from Burroni that tallies perfectly with what you’ve just told me. The thing you saw was a robbery my nephew, Julius Wong, Chandelle Stuart and Alex Campbell all took part in. The only thing we have to discover is the identity of the woman. If they were dressed in the same way, she must be linked to the murder you say you saw the other time. And if Julius Wong is responsible for that, we can add it to the list of his crimes.’

Maureen took off her glasses to look at him, even though he knew how much the light hurt her eyes. ‘That’s only going to make things worse for me.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Mary Ann Levallier has just been hired by Cesar Wong as his son’s defence attorney. In case you’ve forgotten, Mary Ann Levallier is my mother.’

Jordan smiled again, and again it was meant to be supportive. ‘When my brother hears about that, it may make things difficult for him, too – although I’m sure he already knows. In any case, we’ll soon find out.’

‘What do you intend to do?’

Jordan stood up and held out his hand to help her up. ‘My brother is at Gracie Mansion right now. And that’s where we’re going.’

Jordan and Maureen got out of the cab and set off along the path that led to the front gate of Gracie Mansion. Jordan had preferred to get to Carl Schurz Park that way, rather than force Maureen to sit on the back seat of a motorbike. It would have proved dangerous if she had had one of her episodes during the ride.

For most of the journey they had both been silent, with Maureen looking out of the window, as if mesmerized by what she could see of the city through her dark glasses, and Jordan sneaking glances at her from time to time. Maybe, in the light of what was happening to her, she was thinking that there was another world somewhere, a real world, whereas everything around her was merely illusion – and nothing was true except what she saw, sometimes, through her eyes.

After a while she had said, without turning to look at him, ‘There’s something there, Jordan.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s something inside me – something I feel I ought to know, but can’t pin down. It’s as if I’m looking at someone behind a shower curtain. I know he’s there, but I can’t see his face.’

Maureen had removed her glasses for a moment and immediately put them back on again, adjusting them with excessive care on her nose.

‘The best thing to do is not to think about it,’ Jordan said gently. ‘It’ll come by itself.’

‘That’s precisely what I’m afraid of.’

Maureen had fallen silent again and Jordan took the opportunity to call St Vincent’s and ask to speak to Dr Melvin Leko. The surgeon recognized his voice immediately.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Marsalis.’

‘Good afternoon. How is Miss Guerrero?’

‘In excellent shape, considering what happened to her. She’s still quite groggy, but the prognosis is good.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Not for the moment, no.’

‘Thank you. If it’s not too much bother, please keep me informed of any developments.’

‘Of course.’

Jordan had hung up just as the taxi drew into the kerb at the end of their ride.

And now they were passing the bench where Maureen had sat, the day she had gone to Gracie Mansion, trying to summon up the courage to appear in front of strangers and ask them to accept something that she herself could hardly believe.

Everything around her seemed a replay of that day: the trees, the patches of sunlight on the grass, the cries of children from the playground, the bronze statue of Peter Pan in the little square below them.

Even the security officer on duty was the same. He allowed them to pass through without hesitation.

The butler who greeted them at the door of Gracie Mansion informed them that the Mayor was busy at the moment, having a meeting with two representatives of his party.

Thanking him, the pair made their own way to the room where Ruben Dawson was sitting at the computer, as impeccable and impassive as ever, in the company of a technician.

‘Ruben, we need to get on the internet . . .’ Jordan left the phrase hanging and glanced at the other person present in the room, a sturdy man of about thirty who was sitting at another computer with his back to them.

‘Martin,’ Ruben said, ‘would you mind excusing us for a moment?’

‘Of course not, Mr Dawson.’

While waiting for Martin to get up and leave the room, Jordan went to the photocopier and, shielding what he was doing with his body, took from his jacket pocket the cheque he had found on Lord. He made a copy, put it in the fax machine and sent it to Burroni.

Then he turned and said to Dawson, who was still sitting in front of the computer, ‘Ruben, do you think the town of Troy has a local newspaper?’

‘I don’t know, but we can soon find out.’ After a rapid search, he leaned back in his chair and pointed to the screen. ‘Here it is. The
Troy Record
.’

‘Could you phone them and ask if their archives have been digitized and are accessible online? I don’t think they’ll refuse if the request comes from the New York Mayor’s office. Please say it’s very important.’

Ruben stood up and went to the phone. Before dialling he turned to them for a moment.

‘Remember we’re dealing with a newspaper. If there’s something you’re trying to keep secret, that’s hardly the best way to go about it.’

Jordan was forced to admit that Christopher, in choosing Ruben Dawson as a colleague, had not misplaced his trust.

‘Right now,’ he said, ‘I don’t really care.’

Ruben dialled the number and asked to be put through to the editor. As he spoke, Maureen sat down at the desk and went on the
Troy Record
website. Jordan came up behind her and put his hands on the back of the chair.

Ruben said what he had to say and put the phone down. ‘Done. The archive is partly computerized and goes back twelve years.’

He gave them the password. Maureen clicked on
Archive
and typed it in. Under the logo of the newspaper appeared an internal search engine.

She heard the voice of Jordan behind her.

‘The robbery took place on 14 September 1993, so it makes sense to check the 15 September edition.’

Maureen typed in the date, and the relevant edition appeared on the screen. The item they were looking for was on the city section and took up the whole page. It was written by a journalist named Rory Cardenas.

DOLLARS AND PEANUTS

Charlie Brown Robs a Bank

A robbery took place yesterday at the East Greenbush branch of Troy Savings Bank, on the Columbia Turnpike. Three people wearing masks depicting characters from the comic strip
Peanuts
entered the bank, threatened customers and staff with pistols and a pump-action rifle, and seized the bank’s entire holdings, amounting to thirty thousand dollars. Linus, Lucy and Pig Pen drove away in a white Ford that was waiting outside with the engine on, driven by a person wearing a Snoopy mask. The Ford was later found abandoned about six miles south of Troy, having apparently broken down, but the robbers vanished without trace. Nobody was hurt during the robbery, but a 72-year-old woman, Mary Hallbrooks, was taken ill and was promptly admitted to Samaritan Hospital, where she is still under observation. Doctors say her condition is stable. It is the first time a branch of Troy Savings Bank has been targeted by
. . .