“So this is news. They found all this out after they interrogated Concetta.” Lex yanked the mask back over her ears. “So the cops must know by now that she didn’t kill him.”
“Not necessarily,” Park replied. “The cops know the blow to his head didn’t kill Damien. But they might still believe that Concetta’s the one who swung the stiletto, and they might believe that she’s the one who poisoned him.”
Lex stared at her. “Do you think she poisoned him?”
Park thought about it, then shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t. It doesn’t make sense that she would poison him and then clock him in the head with her own shoe. The whole point of the stiletto was to throw off the investigation. From the perspective of criminal psychology, a powerful blow to the head with a blunt object might pretty well fall in line with a crime of passion, but that’s not what this is. Whoever poisoned Damien did it for other reasons.”
“What’s that?” Lex pointed to the bottom of the page, where the words Trace Evidence were highlighted in bold print.
Park read through the few lines. And her heart nearly stopped. “Holy shit!” she yelped.
“Park—be quiet,” Donnie warned.
Lex tried to read the intricate wording in the report. “What is it?”
Park cupped a hand to her mouth. “Okay—this part refers to trace evidence, which is evidence that’s not often seen with the naked eye because it’s usually totally microscopic. It says here that the only piece of trace evidence found at the scene of the crime—meaning in the cage—were two strands of bright red hair.”
Lex’s eyes widened. It took her a few seconds to draw the link. Then her eyes lit up and she said, “Jessica Paderman.”
“Bingo.”
“So—wait—this means that Jessica was in the cage?” Lex asked.
“Only a DNA test could prove that it’s actually her hair,” Park explained. “But come on—who else’s hair could it be? It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“But Concetta said she and Damien were the only ones dancing in the cage. She would’ve told us if Jessica had joined them.”
“I think so too. Which means that Jessica would have to have entered the cage after Concetta left it.”
“Just like the killer,” Lex whispered. “Now, if Jessica used any kind of glitter product and had a reason to break into Mother Margaret’s office and steal confidential school documents, she’d be as much a suspect as Julian.”
Park frowned. “The fact that Jessica’s hair was found at the scene of the crime makes her even more of a suspect. No one has to guess as to her whereabouts. Even if she says she was dancing on the main level of Cleopatra, this trace evidence places her otherwise.”
“Goddamn,” Lex murmured, and shook her head.
Suddenly, the door to the autopsy bay swung open.
Donnie went rigid.
Park slipped the clipboard back into place and pushed the drawer shut. Then she and Lex turned around.
The young man staring back at them was dressed in the same ugly blue scrubs. He was short and thin, his red hair buzz-cut. For a moment he simply stared at them. Then his face relaxed and he set his eyes on Park. “Oh, Doctor Sanjay,” he said. “I’m glad I found you. I thought you had left. Anyway, I wanted you to take a look at this victim.”
Park blinked. She felt Lex and Donnie fidgeting nervously behind her. She glanced down at her white coat and saw the name badge on her lapel: Sunjita Sanjay, MD. Her mind went blank.
“Doctor Sanjay?” the young man said again.
Park lifted her head up high and walked toward him. Acting, she thought. If you’re going to be in a movie, you might as well start now. She cleared her throat and assumed her best Indian accent. “Yiis,” she replied. “I vvwould be glad to hilp you.”
The young man nodded. He shot a curious glance at Lex, and another at Donnie.
When Park reached the body in question, she curled her fingers around the edge of the steel autopsy table and stared across it at the young man’s name badge.
William Billard, Forensic Technician.
“Deese are my colleagues,” Park said, gesturing her head at Donnie and Lex. “Dis is Ducta Halstrom, and dis is Nurse…Lexana.”
William Billard nodded at them.
“Hey,” Donnie said.
“Vvwhat seems to be da problem?” Park asked.
“Well, I just needed your take on this case.” William Billard pointed at the body underneath the white sheet. “The police think the bite marks on this victim were made by a pit bull, but when I was hosing the body down, I caught a look at them, and I don’t think these are pit bull bite marks. They look a lot…worse.”
Park nodded.
William Billard pulled back the white sheet. The body was that of a middle-aged white man, and he appeared normal…except for a chunk of mottled muscle just above his left knee.
Park’s eyes met the gory reddish purple injury. She gasped and swayed, tightening her grip on the edge of the table. The immediate image that leaped into her mind was of chopped meat.
Beside her, Donnie said, “Wow.”
Lex was breathing heavily, her eyes focused on the ceiling.
“Yiis,” Park said. “Dat looks like berry bat bite.”
“A bat bite?” William Billard asked.
“Oh, you tink it’s bat bite?” Park stared at him.
“No. Yes. No, I meant…” William cleared his throat nervously. “Did you say bat bite?”
“No. You said bat bite.”
“No, I didn’t. I thought that’s what you said.”
The phonetic equation finally clicked into place. “Oh,” Park said. “No. I said bad bite. Berry berry bad.”
“And do you think this looks like a pit bull bite?”
“Uh…yiis. Could be. Maybe. Berry ugly.”
William Billard was clearly growing agitated. He sighed. “Could you just give me your professional opinion, Doctor?”
Park nodded as she felt Lex tug at the sleeve of the white coat. “Uh…My professional opinion is…” She looked up. She gulped. She looked back down at the table and pointed. She said, “My opinion is dat dis patient…he vill not vwalk anytime soon.”
“What?” William Billard snapped.
Lex and Donnie had already begun walking toward the door.
“I’m sorry.” Park shrugged. “I’m late for meeting. Have to skee-dattle.” And with that, she dashed out of the bay and into the corridor. She broke into a run, Lex and Donnie at her heels. She yanked off the white coat and chucked it onto the first chair she saw.
An elevator was waiting for them, its doors open.
They jumped inside.
Lex jammed her fingers on the lobby button.
“Shit,” Park said, resuming her own voice. “That was close.”
“It was too close.” Lex stared up at the numbers as the elevator began to move.
“Wow, Park, I’m impressed.” Donnie Halstrom smiled. “That was mighty good acting.”
“Thanks.” She smiled from behind the mask. “I think so too.”
When the elevator doors opened, they poked their heads out to check that the coast was clear.
“Okay,” Donnie whispered. “Now just walk out without looking at anyone. If the guards ask you to stop, tell them you’re running to an emergency.”
Park and Lex nodded. They squared their shoulders and walked through the double doors and out into the lobby.
And stopped dead in their tracks.
Standing off to the left, a few feet from the main exit, was a circle of bodyguards: they were all dressed in suits, earpieces strapped to the sides of their heads. Several of them were talking. Outside on the street, cameras were flashing.
And in the middle of the security circle was David Gordon, prime minister of England. He was a handsome man, but as he stood with his arms at his sides and his eyes fixed on the floor, he looked grim.
Lex moaned. She leaned in close to Park and said wearily, “I
think we’re busted again.”
“No way,” Park whispered back. “He can’t recognize us. We’re wearing masks and caps on our heads.”
Donnie was standing behind them. He gave their shoulders a nudge.
Lex was solid as stone. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She didn’t move a muscle until she felt Park’s hand snap around her wrist and lead her outside—past the news vans and reporters, past the photographers, and into the safety of the limousine. She didn’t speak for the first several minutes of the ride back home. Then, as she peeled the mask off her face and yanked the cap from her head, she looked at Park and said, “I’m never breaking into a morgue again!”
Park shook out her hair. “It was your idea. A close call, but I’m glad we came,” she said simply, calmly. “And I don’t think they’ve figured it out yet. The school, the police, the prime minister—they don’t know there’s a biochemical killer on the loose.”
“A biochemical killer?” Lex asked.
“Yep.” Park applied a fresh coat of gloss to her lips, then snapped open her compact. “Someone who knows about poisons and chemistry and how to make dynamite. Someone who has a secret little laboratory hidden somewhere. And tomorrow, you, Madison, and I are going to flush the creep out.”
17
In the Club
At precisely eight o’clock on Sunday night, Madison, Park, and Lex walked up the steps of the Canoli town house on East Sixty-fifth Street.
Dressed casually in jeans and tank tops, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the heavy air, anxious and fidgety and not quite knowing what to say. They were certain that down in the Chamber, a killer was waiting for them. They also knew that if they didn’t solve Damien’s murder soon, St. Cecilia’s Prep probably wouldn’t have much of a commencement ceremony on Monday afternoon. St. Cecilia’s might not even survive the forthcoming media backlash—a dead student, an accused student, and an unknown chemical criminal on the loose. A crappier graduation day you just wouldn’t find.
It was Park who had the most relaxed look on her face. As she rang the bell, she said, “Remember, just play it cool and go along with the game.”
“Wait,” Madison burst out nervously. “What if this is all a plot to silence us? What if we go in there and they just chop our heads off?”
“Look on the bright side—at least we’re all wearing nice earrings.” Lex rolled her eyes. “Calm down, will you? Nothing bad is going to happen. And besides, Donnie is waiting in the limo at the corner. He knows we’re here. And this was our idea, remember?”
The front door opened. Concetta appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in jeans and a pink blouse. She met their eyes and smiled.
“Hi,” Park said brightly. “You seem a lot better today, Concetta.”
“I’m feeling a little better.” She stepped back and waved them inside, then closed the door. “We have to hurry—I don’t want the maids knowing that I’m receiving guests. My parents think only Emmett is here.”
Lex took off her sunglasses. She stared at Concetta. “So is everything…okay?”
“I think so,” Concetta answered, shrugging. “Today’s a big day. We haven’t initiated any new members of the club since Jessica. And now we have three all at once.”
Park stepped closer to her. “Does this mean you kept our conversation private?” she asked. “You didn’t tell any of the other members what we discussed yesterday?”
“Of course not,” Concetta said. “Do you think any of them would’ve agreed to show up here and have one of our regular Sunday-night sessions if I told them you thought one of us was guilty?”
“So what did you tell them?” Lex asked.
Concetta ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat nervously. “Just that I’ve been wanting the three of you to be in the club for a while now, and that it was finally time to do it. I told them I approached you last week and talked to you about it.”
“And they bought it?”
“I think so. They’re all just relieved that I didn’t blab to the cops. Apparently they all thought I would’ve buckled under the pressure. But, ya know, I didn’t. And no one’s going to argue with me, because I’m the one who created this club. Besides, it’s not like you’ll tell me how you found out about the club anyway. But I have an idea.”
“What’s your idea?” Park asked cautiously.
Concetta stared at Madison a bit coldly. “I think Damien told you. I know how much he liked you, Madison. How much he loved making you laugh. Maybe he broke our sacred oath.”
Madison felt a chill snake along her spine. She didn’t say anything.
“Well,” Park said, “I guess we should get started.”
Concetta led Madison, Park, and Lex to the bathroom in the nearest corridor. “Your costumes are hanging up behind the door, with your names on them. Put them on, then come back out here.”
Madison, Park, and Lex did as they were instructed. They stepped into the bathroom together and closed the door behind them.
“This is creepy!” Madison whispered. “I don’t know if I can go through with it!”
“Of course you can.” Park found the costume with her name on it, then handed Lex and Madison their own.
They changed quickly, not stopping to look at one another.
A minute later, the door opened and Concetta barged in. She was dressed in a brown monk’s robe and holding three identical robes in the crook of her right arm. “Put these on over your costumes,” she told them.
Lex held her robe in her hands. “Excuse me—is this polyester?”
“I think so,” Concetta replied. “Just put it on and let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
When they had each slipped on a robe, Madison, Park, and Lex walked back out into the corridor.
“Now we’re ready,” Concetta said dramatically, already falling into whatever role she was to play. “Come along now—let us enter the Chamber.”
Lex shot an uncertain look at Madison, and Madison’s eyes held the same fearful glint. Park fell in step behind Concetta as they hurried down the corridor, into the kitchen, and through the basement door.
The staircase was pitch-black. Concetta lit a candle and led the way down into the Chamber.
Park couldn’t see much of it—the soft firelight illuminated only the immediate space they were standing in: a hardwood floor, a beamed ceiling, a chandelier. She could feel drafts of air moving right and left, so she knew the basement had to be very large—at least as large as the first floor of the town house.
Madison and Lex stood beside Park, looking spooked in their brown monks’ robes. They kept exchanging glances—looking around, trying to dissect the darkness. But it was impossible to see beyond the candle. Madison squeezed Lex’s hand in a silent gesture of fear. “We’re alone down here,” she whispered anxiously.
Lex simply blinked, unable to move.
Concetta began the Black Cry Affair initiation ritual by circling Madison, Park, and Lex twice. Her gaze was hard and unsettling, and Park found herself wondering if Concetta was merely in character or expressing her unconscious rage at everything that had happened since Friday night.
“You have entered the Chamber,” Concetta said dramatically, loudly. “You have chosen of your own free will to be members of the Black Cry Affair. In doing so, you have told me, mistress of the court, that you wish to relinquish all inhibitions and fears and prejudices. Is this so?”
The question took them all by surprise. They glanced at one another, and then Madison said, “Yes, that is so.”
“Good.” Concetta stopped circling them. She held the candle up and out and tossed her head back. “I now call upon the court to enter the Chamber!” Her words echoed through the open, unseen space.
One by one, three doors opened on both sides of the basement, the darkness immediately retreating as three figures emerged from the shadows, each holding a candle. They were dressed in the same long monkish robes.
Park recognized Julian Simmons beneath t
he droopy hood of his robe. She then stared in the other direction and saw Jessica Paderman and Emmett McQueen walking toward the circle.
Madison nudged Park’s shoulder—another clear gesture of fear.
Lex, standing stock-still, had no emotion on her face, though she had moved her arms and was now clasping her hands together over her middle.
Concetta, Emmett, Julian, and Jessica each held out their candles. Then Emmett lifted his left arm and held his hand up: in it was a small video camera. He brought the lens to his eye and began recording.
Concetta said, “You stand before your fellow brothers and sisters in the universe of the Black Cry Affair. There is no turning back.”
Madison gulped so loudly, the sound actually reverberated through the basement.
The hooded figures began walking around Madison, Park, and Lex, making a continuous circle.
Concetta held out her left hand.
From his side, Julian raised a long sword and held it up and out, its gleaming tip stopping only inches from Lex’s face.
The weapon caught Lex by surprise. She jerked her head back, then quickly regained her composure and fixed Julian with a don’t-mess-with-me stare.
He moved the sword to the edge of Park’s face, then moved it to Madison’s.
“You will now take the sacred oath of secrecy,” Concetta said. She held out her right hand and pointed a finger at Madison, Park, and Lex. “In this, the Chamber of the Black Cry Affair, there are no limits or inhibitions. There are no fears. Do you solemnly swear and promise to abide by our rules and to keep the practices of the Black Cry Affair secret—under penalty of death?”
“Yes,” Park answered quickly. “We do.”
“The oath of loyalty,” Concetta whispered.
It was apparently Jessica’s cue to speak up. She held the candle firmly in her hands as she locked eyes with Lex. “Do you promise and swear to honor your fellow brothers and sisters outside of the Black Cry Affair, just as you would inside the Chamber—under penalty of death?”
“We do.”
In the Club Page 20
