by Kylie Brant
“Absolutely. And the surprise I mentioned earlier? Autopsied another vic a few days ago killed exactly the same way.”
He had both men’s rapt attention now, and enjoyed it to the fullest. “A Chafe Robinson. Only difference was the corpse was missing a hand.” He lifted a shoulder as if to say the significance of that detail escaped him.
“I’ll be damned to hell.”
Doug agreed with Gabe’s pronouncement cheerfully.
“Very probably.” He rose to his feet. “Don’t forget that scotch, fellas. And don’t think that’s the end of it. You’re gonna owe me for this one a lo-o-ong time.”
Gabe looked at Cal, his mind racing. “So there’s a pro out there.”
“Lots of them. We can feed the MO into the computer and see what it spits out.”
“Maybe.” Something nagged at the edge of Gabe’s mind, but sleep deprivation had his concentration fuzzy. “If he’s never been arrested we’re not going to get a match.” In frustration he pressed his fist to his eyes. Pollynife.
“What if the part of the name the kid picked up was knife?” He was thinking out loud, trying to make sense of it. “Some pro who specializes with a knife.” Even as he spoke it, the answer blazed across his mind. “Paulie the Knife.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “It fits, Cal. It has to.”
“Paulie the Knife.” Cal’s brows were raised to his receding hairline. “You know there’s never been a picture of him. No one’s ever been able to identify him.” Witnesses, of course, had a way of disappearing. “You’re talking connections, there, Gabe. And money. Hired assassins don’t come cheap.”
“And whose name keeps popping up who would have both?”
They voiced the words simultaneously. “Victor Mannen.”
“This is thin,” Cal said halfheartedly. He was already rising and reaching for his coat. “Really thin.”
Gabe grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door. “Thin’s my middle name.”
“Detectives.” Victor Mannen didn’t rise from his desk when they entered, just waved a hand for them to take a seat, the action oddly regal. Setting his pen down precisely beside the papers on his desk, he folded his hands and surveyed them. “To what do I owe this…pleasure?”
“You could tell us about your dealings with Golden Enterprises,” Gabe suggested.
Mannen raised his brows politely. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”
“That’s the name of the corporation you sold several of your holdings to, among which were Ultimate Video and Sunrise Lounge. Both places have figured in an investigation we’re running. You used to own them.”
“The key phrase, I believe, is used to.”
“Who’d you deal with when you sold them to Golden Enterprises?” Gabe roamed the opulent office, taking in the teak furniture and the artwork that even he could tell was museum quality.
“I can’t even say for sure if it was Golden Enterprises that I sold to.” He lifted one immaculately clad shoulder.
“The transactions occurred some time ago.”
“Maybe we can help your memory. That was the corporation you sold to.” Cal’s voice was easy. “Courthouses keep records of stuff like that.”
Mannen inclined his head. “As you say. Well, if that’s what the records show, then it must be so. But I fail to see why it would generate such interest.”
“Why’d you get rid of them?” At Mannen’s silence Gabe looked over at him, met his gaze blandly. “Were they losing money for you?”
“I believe at the time I was seeking to diversify.” His voice was cool as he watched the detective pick up a Ming vase, examine it, then set it down audibly. His lips tightened. “Please make whatever point you’ve come for, Detectives. My time is quite valuable.”
Gabe approached his desk, dropped a copy of the sketch on it. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
Mannen studied the sheet for a minute before raising his gaze again. “I can’t say that I have, fortunately. He doesn’t look like the type I’d normally run into in my circle.”
“We’ve got copies of this sketch circulating throughout the city. We think he’s responsible for three deaths related to the case we’re working,” Cal interjected. “He’s known as Paulie the Knife.”
“Colorful.” A faint smile crossed Mannen’s lips, then vanished. “But what does this have to do with me?”
“That’s what we’re wondering.” Gabe stared at the man steadily. “Somehow you’re the common thread running through this whole mess.”
“Because I used to own a few businesses you’ve mentioned?” Mannen’s tone was amused. “Since when is it suspicious for a man to divest himself of some investments that ceased to be profitable?”
“So the video place and the Sunrise were losers, huh? And the rest of them?” Gabe strolled over to a glass case showcasing antique firearms. “Where’d you place the money you got from them?” He looked back at Victor.
“Stocks, bonds, that kind of thing?”
Mannen clasped his hands on his desk. “I hardly think my portfolio is pertinent to your investigation. And it isn’t up for discussion, at any rate. Now if you’ve finished your business…” He rose and pressed a button on his intercom. A burly man wearing an ill-fitting suit stepped into the room. “Peter, the detectives are done here. Could you show them out?”
“You know, I’m thinking your portfolio might be more pertinent than you believe.” Gabe smiled easily. “We’ll let you know when we do some more checking.”
Mannen pressed his lips in a thin, hard line and waited for the door to close behind the detectives. He could trust Peter to show them to the street. Crossing the room, he opened an adjoining door and said, “They’re gone.”
The man known as Paulie the Knife reentered the room he’d recently vacated. At birth he had been given the name Paul Delgado. It had been so long since he thought of himself that way that the name had little meaning for him. The conversation he’d just heard did.
“I gotta leave town. I need the rest of the money you owe me.”
The demand in the man’s tone rankled, but Victor remained outwardly unruffled. “I’m not sure you’re due any more money. Obviously, you bungled one of the jobs.”
“Those hits were clean.”
“You left a witness.” The truth hung in the air, irrefutable. “Therefore, the job isn’t finished.”
The words landed squarely on Paulie’s pride. It was the first time ever that he’d been identified. He looked at the sketch lying on Mannen’s desk and cursed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough for him to be recognized. Pride struggled with survival, and the battle was short-lived. “Forget it. I’m out of here.”
Mannen allowed him to get as far as the door before saying, “I think you’re forgetting one very expedient point. A sketch is worth nothing if there isn’t an eyewitness to back it up.” It was tedious, he thought, having to explain every detail to his employees, but then, it wasn’t their brain-power most of them had been hired for.
Paulie turned, warily looked at him.
Steepling his fingers, Mannen reached for patience. “Collins and Robinson, as it turns out, have been useful in one small way. They linked Barton’s sister with this police detective, so it takes very little intelligence to guess the identity of the eyewitness, doesn’t it?” He watched comprehension flood the other man’s face before indicating a seat. “Sit down.” He waited for the man to do as he bade. “Now listen carefully. I want my wishes carried out to the letter.”
“What’d you think?”
“He’s got the money to afford a pro,” Gabe said. “And he’s sure got the ego. What are you gonna do next?”
Cal didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Be kind of interesting to find out what Mannen’s into now, wouldn’t it? We’ll have to have more to go on before approaching Burney with this. You know how tough he can be to…” His words tapered off. “What do you mean, me? What are you going to do?”
“I’m goi
ng to talk to the lieutenant about taking some personal time this afternoon.” There was a feeling in his gut, too edgy and raw to be ignored. “I want to make sure Meghan and Danny aren’t in any danger now that we’ve spread around those sketches of Paulie.” He shrugged, unable to explain the uneasy feeling he had. It wasn’t a meeting he was looking forward to. Some of the anger from this morning had subsided, but there was lingering emotion that still stung. He’d have preferred to have all those feelings under control before he saw her again. Reacted to her again.
Uncharacteristically Cal chanced taking his eyes off the road to glance at his partner. “They shouldn’t be in any danger. The kid told us the first day that neither man saw him.”
Rolling his shoulders, Gabe said, “So, great. But it still wouldn’t hurt to let her know what went down. She deserves to know, since it affects her nephew, doesn’t she?”
With raised brows Cal turned his attention back to the road. He knew better than to press Connally when he was in a mood, and as moods went, this one was downright surly. Only a woman could get a man so worked up that he couldn’t think quite clearly. Suppressing a smile, he continued his sedate journey back to Area One. The guess he’d made days earlier had been right on. Connally was definitely smitten.
The man loomed out of nowhere. Meghan had just begun to get out of the car when he appeared before her, suddenly enough to give her heart a jolt. And then in the next instant recognition set in, followed by terror. The sketch she’d done of the man from Danny’s description had been eerily accurate. She dove back inside the car, frantically trying to shut and lock the door behind her. But her split second hesitation had given the man the opening he’d needed. He yanked the door open, and crowded in behind her, forcing her across the seat. She threw herself at the opposite door then abruptly halted when she felt the kiss of cold steel at her neck.
“Bad move. Now sit up. That’s right.” The knife traveled lower, out of sight of anyone passing by. She could feel its edge pricking the skin at the top of her thigh through the denim jeans.
The man snatched her purse, found the keys on top. “Your femoral artery is right there, know that?” He started the car and pulled into the traffic. “If I slice you open there it’d take less than ten minutes for you to bleed out.” She sent an anguished look around, but amazingly everything looked normal. No one seemed to have noticed anything amiss.
“It’d be a messy way to die. Painful, too, I guess. And if you move a muscle that’ll be the way to go. Serve you right, too. Where were you? I was extremely careful. You weren’t in the alley, no one was.”
She stared at him, realization arriving in a flood. He thought she was the witness, the one who’d ID’d him. “The window,” she murmured. If she could take comfort from one thing it was knowing that by her lie, Danny would be safe. “I was looking out the toy store window.”
His face tightened. The pressure on her leg increased and she flinched. “Is this how you killed D’Brusco?”
“As I said, it’s messy. Strictly for amateurs, unless an emergency arises. I’m a professional. An artist, you could say.” His thin lips stretched into a chilling smile. “Kinda like you.”
She stared at the scenery speeding by, trying to shove aside panic to think. It helped to focus on something besides her fright, so she kept track of the directions they traveled in. She watched for landmarks, memorized them. And she tried not to consider the fact that she’d probably have very little use for either.
She thought then of Danny, and the knot in her throat threatened to choke her. He’d been frantic when she’d returned from the hospital the night she’d been attacked. Raina had told her that he’d probably picked up on some of her fear and pain. Strong emotions, the woman had said, send out powerful signals. It was an incredibly helpless feeling, knowing that the boy could well be experiencing her fear at this very moment.
Lost in anguish at the consideration, another moment passed before the significance of the thought struck her. A tiny bud of hope unfurled inside her, and she grew even more intent on her surroundings. That same psychic ability that had been used to torment her for years, might be her only salvation.
Sandra had been right. It was very ironic.
“Open it.”
The super of Meghan’s apartment building balked. “I can’t do that, Detective. If Miss Patterson’s in there and doesn’t want to see you, that’s her business. And if she’s not in there, there’s no point. I overstepped my bounds by even letting you in the building. She had plenty to say to me just the other day about allowing you access.”
Gabe leaned on the doorbell. “You’re sure you never saw her go out?”
The other man sighed. “I told you a half a dozen times…”
“Yeah, yeah. You were fixing the plumbing in 218.” A thought struck him, and Gabe walked down the hallway a few doors and rang Callie’s bell. His edginess was due to a combination of exhaustion and adrenaline, he told himself. But that didn’t explain the sick sensation in his gut when Meghan hadn’t answered her bell or her telephone.
Callie opened the door, and her eyes widened in recognition. “Detective, thank heavens. Do you know where Meghan is? Is she with you?”
The sick sensation rose, fueled by the first stirrings of fear. “No. I can’t get an answer—” He stopped, aware for the first time of the voices in her apartment. “What’s going on?”
Neither saw the super throw his hands in the air and walk away, muttering about crazy tenants and their guests.
She stepped aside, an invitation to enter. “It’s Danny. He’s been like this ever since I picked him up. It was Meghan’s day to get him, but when she didn’t show up the school called me.”
“She never showed up?” Dread circled, spreading through his veins.
“Gabe!” Danny sped across the room and threw his arms around Gabe’s legs. “Aunt Meggie’s in a bad place. A really bad place. You gotta find her.”
He squatted, holding the boy at arm’s length. “Wait a minute, champ. Slow down.”
Tears formed in the boy’s eyes and slid down his cheeks. Manfully he tried to keep his lips from wobbling. “She’s scared, Gabe. Real scared of the man.”
“What man?”
“Pollynife. Pollynife’s making her afraid.”
Chapter 14
Ice pierced Gabe’s heart, sent glacial splinters to his veins. “How can you be sure of that?”
“I can tell. Just like I could tell when I knew she went to see the big trains.”
He looked hard at the boy. He’d assumed when he’d caught up with Meghan that day that she’d told Danny where she was going, but he realized now that the boy’s knowledge had come from a far different place. One less easily explained.
He pushed aside a thread of panic. “Do you think you can do that again, Danny?” He was only peripherally aware of Callie watching them with an expression of confusion and fear. “Can you try and make it happen or does it just…” He didn’t have the words to phrase it.
“I didn’t know about the big trains on purpose. It was a accident. I’m not supposed to do it on purpose. Raina and Aunt Meggie said.”
“Raina.” His gaze flicked to Callie. “Do you have a key to Meghan’s apartment?” She didn’t speak, just nodded. Gabe rose, took Danny by the hand. “Get it.”
In the shadowy interior of the abandoned building, Meghan’s captor reached out, caught her hair. Yanking her head back, he pressed the tip of his knife to her throat with enough pressure to break the skin. The air clogged in her lungs. She thought she would see murder in his eyes or an insane lust. But the only emotion she read there was the vicious satisfaction of a man engaged in an act he enjoyed. There would be no appealing to such a creature. Certain she was about to die, her mind whirled with a dizzying array of images. Sandra. Danny. Gabe. Of promises made and love left unspoken.
“You’re not gonna go quick. Not like your sister.” He watched the horrified comprehension flood her face and gave an ugly
laugh. Running the flat end of the blade along her cheek, he said, “I wonder if you’ll scream like she did when I ran her off that cliff.”
“You killed Sandra.” She forced the words through numb lips, but didn’t need the savage smile on his face to know he spoke the truth.
“Not my style. Babe like her deserves some attention before she buys it.” His breath bouncing off her face was rank, the hand he ran over her revolting. “I got the time to spend with you, though. You decide how you want the end to be. It can be fast or slow, depending on how nice you are to me first. Either way, you’ll be with your sister soon. Tell her Paulie Delgado sends his regards.”
Emotion bombarded Meghan, revulsion, terror and—most welcome—a simmering rage. Whatever her faults, Sandra hadn’t deserved to have her life snatched away so suddenly. Hadn’t deserved to be sent to her death at this monster’s whim. Life—nature—had been unfair to her. Death had been even more so.
Panic wrestled with fury in a greasy tangle in her stomach. “Were you singing to yourself when you killed her?” Meghan barely noted the stillness that crept over his features, The words tumbled out of her, fueled by anger. “Or was that little mental serenade only for D’Brusco?”
“What?” Wariness threaded through the word.
“‘Round and round the mulberry bush…”’ Repeating the lyrics Danny had picked up from his brief encounter with the killer left a bitter taste on her tongue. His reaction, however, was fiercely satisfying. Her head thudded painfully against the floor as he shoved her away from him.
“Shut up.”
“‘…the monkey chased the weasel…”’
“Shut up!” Steel glinted, and the blade was presented against her throat again, but this time there was a slight tremor in the hand that held it. “How’d you know about that, huh?”
The momentary satisfaction she’d felt abruptly vanished. How had she known about that? Oh, God, she couldn’t let him guess about Danny! She couldn’t…
