During the only lull in patronage, she had a thought. Rita had worked in reference for many years; chances were that she would know if there was an inferno collection somewhere on the premises.
Turning to Rita, she asked, “Have you ever heard anything about an inferno collection here?”
Rita’s eyes shifted from side to side. She spoke quietly. “It’s really not something you should be talking about.”
“Why ever not?”
Rita’s voice shrilled. “It’s just not good to ask.”
“But why should there be any secrecy about a collection?”
“Wendell keeps one particular collection under lock and key. I once overheard him talking about it. But then he noticed me and said that I wasn’t to discuss it with anyone.”
“To whom was he talking?”
Rita shrugged in annoyance. Her expression made Kim think of a constipated chipmunk. “I don’t know, just someone who wanted to see it. Think I know everyone that comes into this place?”
Kim had the distinct impression that Rita wasn’t being completely truthful. The conversation ended abruptly as a student approached them. Since Rita was unwillingly to talk any further, it made no difference.
Rita left before Kim did that night. When she got her coat, Kim tried her keys to see if she could get into Wendell’s office. The secret collection must be kept somewhere within his office locked away. But none of her keys fitted the lock. How could she get into his office to look around?
Rita had to have a key to Wendell’s office, because occasionally on the evening shift she needed to go in to check one thing or another. Although Rita had a great deal of seniority, her sour disposition made her one of Wendell’s least favorite reference librarians; therefore, she was often consigned to work the evening shift, during which he rarely put in an appearance.
What Kim had to do was borrow Rita’s keys the next evening they worked late together. Since Wendell never worked the late shift, she could wait until it was safe to come back to the offices and look around. Yes, that plan should certainly work.
As Kim left the building that night, the sky was overcast. The parking deck was deserted. She walked along quickly, feeling as if she were being followed or watched, and wondering if it were just her imagination working overtime. There were always stories of rapes and muggings on campus at night. After all, they were in a city, and cities were not the safest of places, especially at night. She literally ran up the two flights of stairs to her car, and was totally out of breath when she reached it, her hand trembling on the key. She looked around and saw no one, but she could not shake the feeling of fear. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but then again, maybe she wasn’t. At least she’d taken a self-defense course as an undergrad and knew how to protect herself fairly well. Self-reliance was a wonderful thing if you lived an independent life style.
* * * *
The following day, Kim was scheduled for the late shift once again. To her disappointment, Rita was not working with her. However, her hours were such that she could make another attempt to see Dr. Forbes. She timed her dinner break to coincide with the conclusion of a class. It worked out just as she planned, and she was able to approach him as the last of his students filed out the door.
“Dr. Forbes, I’ve been trying to see you for some time. Is it possible for us to talk for a few minutes right now?”
He gave her a small, amused smile. “Of course, carpe diem. Why wait when you can have me now? But beware. I am like the sun. Do not draw too close, lest like Icarus, your wax wings melt and plunge you to your death.” He was playing with her.
“Thank you, I’ll keep your warning in mind. I wouldn’t want to incinerate.”
“Indeed not.” His glittering blue eyes surveyed her shrewdly. Without warning, he swept her into his arms, took hold of her, and led her into an exaggerated tango step. Then he released her just as swiftly as he had seized her. Kim nearly lost her balance. She stared at him in amazement. He seemed terribly pleased by her stunned reaction.
“Magnificent, my dear, utterly superb. We must dance together again sometime. Take my Victorian Novel course next semester and I will guarantee it.”
“I’m not in the program anymore.”
“More’s the pity. You must return. You could be one of the elect, one of the chosen few.” His mocking tone did not escape her notice.
“Chosen for what?” she said.
He pierced her with the laser-light quality of his blue gaze. “Come and find out. We dance beautifully together, a perfect pair, don’t you think? I prefer tall women.” His words flowed like maple syrup as his small body rippled lithely away from her. “But you will do quite nicely. Do you find me fascinating, my dear? I am considered a man of wit.”
Half-wit was more like it, but she kept that opinion to herself. “I came to talk to you about Lorette Campbell. I’m sure you recall her. She was, after all, rather tall.”
The incandescent eyes riveted on her own with frightening intensity and hypnotic power. “That was a tragedy. She was truly meant to be one of the chosen, a gifted young woman. What is your concern in this matter?”
“She was my friend. I mourn her loss.”
“And you think that investigating her death will somehow compensate?”
The sardonic edge to his voice made her feel almost foolish. She did not respond immediately.
“Who did you say you were?”
“Kim Reynolds.”
“You’ve never studied with me, have you?”
“No, I was not so honored. Did you know that Lorette was reading your book on the occult at the time of her death?”
“Ah, how interesting. I have been accused of many things in my time—murderous looks, a rapier wit, a switchblade tongue—but never before has it been suggested that my written word kills.” He used his hand to brush back his pure white hair, which was neatly combed off his pink face. The gesture made her think of a rat who knows he’s snatched the cheese and outsmarted the individual who set the trap.
“I wasn’t suggesting that your book had anything to do with causing her death in the physical sense. However, the metaphysical is an entirely different matter.”
“Perhaps you would care to elucidate?”
“Lorette seemed intrigued by the demon-lover theme. She might have been planning a paper of her own on the topic. Did she come to you for help?”
“We discussed the matter briefly. She had an idea, but as yet it was rather vague and unformed, no solid thesis worked out. I told her that when she got past the planning stage and had something actually written, I would read it and make suggestions.”
“I read some of your book. I found it rather negative and misogynistic.”
“Did you now? Did you indeed?” A tolerant smirk appeared on his face.
She disliked being patronized, but kept her tone of voice cautiously cool. “Do you really think women long to be ravished by demonic spirits?”
He gave her a Cheshire-cat smile. “Of course they do—in their fantasies. They romanticize rape, idealize the disreputable male. It’s the principle behind every gothic novel from earliest inception to the Brontës, and down to the current vogue of trashy romance novels. There is an attraction to evil inherent in the nature of men and women alike. It excites. It fascinates. Each sex manifests it slightly differently, but to deny it is unrealistic. Evil is the strongest force in the universe. The power of evil rules mankind.”
She shuddered. “I’m afraid I cannot agree with you. And I believe that in the world of reality, women prefer kind, decent men to sadists.”
“Ms. Reynolds, you are quite naive.” He turned his superior smile on her.
Kim found her face flushing both from embarrassment and anger. She determined to change the subject back to Lorette. “What did Lorette’s thesis specifically deal with? Would you happen to remember?”
“She was working with several different ideas. There was the connection between the demon-lover mystique, tying i
t in with an incubus.”
“Incubus?” The term was familiar but she couldn’t place it.
“A demon or devil who sexually assaults women, generally during the night while they sleep. In the Middle Ages, people believed that erotic encounters with demons occurred most often in convents because demons created their physical manifestation from the substance of menstrual matter. The demon always won because it understood the repressed sexual desires of women.” He stared at her meaningfully.
Kim sensed that this was more than mere conversation between them. This was a man who exercised power over the will of other people, who would literally control their souls if permitted. A fallen angel, a Lucifer, not so different from the evil genius of a Hitler or a Stalin, only on a smaller scale. She shivered though the room was warm.
“Erotic dreams are as common to men as women,” she said in a voice louder than she’d intended.
“Certainly, it is as ancient as the sex urge itself. Freud found psychological explanations, but the fact remains that physical evidence is sometimes left behind.”
“You don’t actually believe that there is such a thing as a demon lover?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “and then again, perhaps not. But I will tell you one thing. Your friend Ms. Campbell believed it—or should I say feared it.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“We’ll never know for certain now, will we?” His eyes were quicksand, sucking her down into their depths.
She had the distinct impression that he was playing mind games at her expense. She forced herself to look away, but it was difficult.
“If it is any comfort to you, I think that Ms. Campbell had come to understand something about the nature of universal truth. One does learn such things from examining long-standing literary trends, don’t you think, my dear?”
Kim felt as if he were testing her, challenging her intellect and her inner strength. “Is it politically correct to talk of universal truth? Didn’t Einstein demonstrate there are no constants except relativity itself?”
“Not so, my dear.” His magnetic gaze held her own. “Human nature never changes. Evil is the universal constant in the universe.”
“You sound like a Calvinist. You and Dr. Barnes appear to share a common philosophy.”
“And you are medieval in your thinking. Everything and everyone neatly pigeonholed and classified.” He was sneering at her now. “Dr. Barnes and I, in point of fact, agree on very little, except a shared opinion on the direction that our society is headed.”
“Which is?”
“To hell in a hand basket, of course. Ethics and morals are in a state of terminal decay, like a maggot-infested corpse left to rot.”
“People were saying the same thing thousands of years ago.”
He gave her a deadly look. “We didn’t have the same potential for total destruction then. Perhaps human sacrifices are no longer made by cutting out men’s hearts as offerings to the gods, but in many ways our barbarism exceeds that of past civilizations. Witness the mass annihilations of the past century, genocide, senseless wars, toxic pollution and the possibility of nuclear holocaust. Never, my dear, never confuse advances in technology with amelioration of the human character. The heart of man is as black and evil as ever.”
“I still believe the need for love and hope for redemption are equally strong.”
His eyes seemed to probe her soul. “Have you found it to be so in your own experience?”
It was as if he knew her life, could see into her heart. And she found herself unable to answer him.
He moved toward the door, turning one last time to look at her. “The big blast is coming, my dear. It’s just a matter of time. Have I shocked you with my outspoken opinions? Well, I won’t apologize. Time to take the blinders off and grow up, dear heart.” Suddenly he was gone, out the door and away, like a magician disappearing in a puff of smoke.
She felt cold and chilled and very much alone. The eccentric little man had quite managed to intimidate her. She had no doubt that was exactly what he’d intended. Had he done the same thing to Lorette—or worse?
TWELVE
Kim worked behind the reference desk for several hours before the eerie feeling that had settled over her dissipated. Still, she’d begun to think that looking into the circumstances of Lorette’s death was becoming more than she could deal with. Two deaths, both unnatural, within a short space of time. She had the terrible feeling that she was at least partly to blame for what happened to Sandy.
As if responding to her thoughts, Lieutenant Gardner showed up later that evening.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when he approached her at the desk.
God, the man was tall! And even wearing a suit, there was no disguising the fact that he was well built. His features weren’t so much handsome as strong. He had an unsettling effect on her that she preferred not to consider.
“Since you weren’t at home, I figured you were probably at work.” His gray eyes were steady.
“Suppose I was off today? You would have wasted your time.”
“Oh, I called first. Made sure you were on.” His smile was friendly, as if they shared an old acquaintanceship.
She recognized the smile for what it was, an attempt to throw her off-guard. She knew enough to be wary. Past experience had taught her policemen were not to be trusted. “So do you still think I’m the reincarnation of Lucretia Borgia?”
He gave a short laugh. “You’ve got me wrong.”
“Do I? Maybe Lizzie Borden then?”
“There are just a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“Should I hire a lawyer?”
“If you want, but you don’t need one—at least not yet.”
Why did he have to be so attractive? It was distracting and she needed all her wits about her to spar with him. “As you can see, I’m busy working now.”
He looked around. “Doesn’t seem too busy to me.”
“It will be.”
“Can you take a few minutes off? It’s important.” He gave her a warm, gentle smile.
He wasn’t fooling her; she knew what he was doing. “All right. I can take a fifteen-minute break. I just have to tell the other librarian on duty.”
* * * *
She took a walk with him down College Avenue and around the Commons, letting him lead the way, letting him talk.
“It’s been confirmed that Sandy Lorson was killed by several blows to the head from a blunt instrument. The first blow was in itself only strong enough to render her unconscious. But the perp obviously was determined to finish the job. There was no rape or robbery, so that rules out any of the more typical motives connected with murder. She also showed no signs of putting up a struggle. It looks as if whoever killed her was someone she knew and likely trusted. Someone she might have a meeting with, for instance.” He gave her a speculative look.
She froze in her tracks. “And you think I had some motive for killing her?”
“Did I say that?” He was friendly and ingratiating again.
She’d had enough of men playing mind games with her for one day. “I’ll tell you exactly why I was going to meet Sandy. It had to do with something she told me about Lorette.” Kim went on to explain Sandy’s story about meeting Lorette at Dr. Forbes’ house. “I spoke with Dr. Forbes today. He was interested in Lorette as a student. She was writing a paper on the supernatural for him. The subject fascinates him. These gatherings of select students at his home seem to have something to do with his interest in the occult.”
“So you think that this professor had some reason to kill both women?”
“I can’t be certain, but it seems that way to me. I intend to find this friend Nick that Sandy talked about. He might tell me more about it.”
“You trying to do my job?” His tone was accusatory.
“If you want to locate Nick and ask him some questions, that’s fine with me. I’m just trying to help.”
“
And to suggest that other people might have killed your friend?”
“When you thought it was an accident or suicide, I told you I didn’t believe it. I’m just as concerned as you are that Lorette’s killer is brought to justice—more so.”
He gave her another irritating smile. “Glad to hear it. And if you are as innocent as you say, maybe you should stop asking questions. Two women are dead already. That’s enough, don’t you think?” His eyes met hers.
“I’m touched by your concern for my welfare, Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, like hell you are. Oh, by the way, Ms. Reynolds, there is a little mystery you might clear up for me. It seems Kim Reynolds didn’t exist before seven years ago. How come?”
She shifted uneasily, looking ahead of her. “Very simple, really. I legally changed my name.”
“What was wrong with the old one?”
“I decided to reinvent myself.”
He cocked a questioning brow. “Karen Reyner isn’t such a bad name.”
So he knew; why had he bothered to ask her about it then? “If you know about that, then you must know why I changed my name.”
“You sound hostile.”
She looked at him. “Maybe that’s the way I feel.”
“I guess you’ve got a right.” He had a sympathetic look on his face, as if he cared and wanted to listen to whatever she might want to say. Don’t fall for that!
“My mother thinks it was wrong of me. She thinks I was ashamed of him.”
“Of Carl Reyner, you mean?”
She inclined her head slightly. He knew everything, just as she suspected. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Yeah, I understand. You smoke? You want a cigarette?”
She shook her head. “We breathe enough air pollution around here as it is. I hope you don’t smoke.”
“I’m trying to stop,” he responded sheepishly. “You sound like my daughter, Evie. She’s after me about it all the time.”
“Well, it’s a bad habit. You’re lucky to have such a caring daughter.”
The Inferno Collection Page 11
