“Tell him that you have been pressed into the service of an odd little professor at NYU who is conducting a research project. Tell him the truth, Lieutenant. If they want to check it out, they can get in touch with me. Bear in mind that what we are looking for are things that are hard to explain under normal conditions. We are looking for the bizarre, the inexplicable, the unsolved; those are the kinds of things that might give us a broader picture of what we are facing, you see?”
Michael nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Turning to Lya, Carter spoke again. “You, Ms. Marsden, can also be of great service. Under the guise of your job at the television studio, it would be helpful if you could speak with representatives of all the city departments that have access to the world beneath the streets—Sewers, Steam, Gas and Electric, Telephone, Transit, and even the Department of Health.”
“Department of Health?” Lya asked.
“Rat control. I’m told they have a cadre of men who roam around down there killing rats. Sounds like a lovely occupation, doesn’t it?” Carter smiled. He seemed to be getting hack some of his natural enthusiasm as he marshaled his forces and began planning strategy. “At any rate, Lya, I would like you to see if you can uncover any facts or records that might help. Be discreet, and don’t make anyone suspicious if you can help it. Also, try to get some maps from these people.”
“Maps?”
“Yes. We’re going to want to know our way beneath the streets, and we may not want any official representatives acting as guides like the last time. A wise move, don’t you think?”
“I feel terrible about Mr. Frieter,” said Lya. “That poor old man …”
“He may still turn up somewhere,” said Professor Carter. “We have no proof that he is dead. Anyway, I further propose that we meet here at my place every three days to pool any new information we have garnered. I will continue to look for more relevant material among my manuscripts and conduct a few experiments with this Celtic talisman, and we shall see what we can come up with. Are we all agreed?”
Michael and Lya nodded.
“All right, then, I won’t keep you two any longer. Besides, I should be getting back to work.” Lane Carter stood and bowed his head graciously.
They said their good-byes, and Michael and Lya walked down to the street. It was getting late and the night air of the city felt crisp and clean. Lya was feeling oddly uncomfortable after listening to Lane Carter, and the thought of being alone tonight was upsetting in itself. She held on to Michael’s arm as he signaled for a cab.
“Where’re we going?” she asked as a yellow Plymouth veered out of the traffic flow and bore down on their position.
“Your place or mine?” he asked with a smile. “I figure we still have to make up for our interrupted evening, right?”
“Sounds great to me.” She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.
In the cab, she turned serious and confessed to him that she was scared. Not only of what they were uncovering with Carter, but also, she had suddenly realized, of anything happening to him.
He admitted similar feelings, but added that now that they had come this far, there was no turning away from it. They had to play out the whole thing now, he said.
Lya thought about that as they rode uptown in silence. Michael held her hand and kept her close to him, and she felt more secure in the aura of his strength and his confidence. She needed that, and she needed him. She thought of the old cliché there are some things man was not meant to know. Was that really true? Were they tampering with some kind of forbidden knowledge? She could not let herself believe that. She had to believe that they were doing what they had to do, and she hoped that they would not pay too dearly for the act.
The cab pulled up before Lya’s building, and Michael paid the driver. They waited for the elevator and entered the apartment in silence. Lya hung up their coats and went to the kitchen. While Michael prepared a fire in the fireplace, she poured Blue Nun into two goblets and carried them out to the living room. As they sipped their wine and spoke cautiously of what they had discovered, she found herself studying him. He had a strong jaw line and a natural smile, although he didn’t seem to smile all that much. His general expression communicated a serious nature, a quiet confidence. She was falling for him in a big hurry, and she didn’t mind at all.
The fire was crackling now, bathing them in a glowing heat. The wine was taking effect and Lya felt more relaxed than she would have imagined, considering what they had been through recently. She lay with her head on his lap, there on the carpet by the hearth. It was all suitably romantic, and Lya decided that it was just what she needed. Now. Tonight.
He was still wearing his corduroy jacket, and his tie was still knotted loosely at the collar of his shirt. He looked oddly formal.
“Do you mind if I take this off?” she asked, touching his tie. “You don’t look very comfortable.”
Michael looked at her with a very serious expression. “Lya,” he said softly. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and yet she had hoped he would say something like that. Without hesitation, she answered him. “Yes, Michael, I do. I really do. I need you here with me.”
“In that case, you can take it off,” he said, kissing her. She undid his tie, helped him out of his jacket, and ran her fingers down his back, his arms. God, it felt good to be close to him. She had almost forgotten how good it could feel.
They undressed each other very slowly, gently, pausing after each garment was discarded to caress each other. Lya responded instinctively to his gentleness, his affection. He held her breast lightly in his hand and kissed her teasingly and warmly, making her feel at ease. Making love had often made her feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, but Michael seemed to sense that, and he was careful to not rush her. She reached out for him, touching his chest softly, then running her fingers through his hair. She liked his body; it was firm and sinewy, but not overly muscular. He was lean and supple, hard yet gentle.
As they lay in the light of the fire, which was collapsing now into a pile of warmly glowing coals, Lya felt more relaxed than she had ever felt with a man. He kissed her all over, running his hands delicately over her stomach, her breasts ‘ and nipples, the soft, light hair of her mound. He made her tingle with warmth and electricity and she wanted him as she had never wanted anyone before. He touched her inner lips lightly and then retreated, repeating the gesture over and over, lifting her higher and higher until she thought she would explode. She wanted to respond and caress him also, but she was being carried aloft in a whirlwind of pleasure. God, it had never been like this before …
She was totally aware of every part of her body as she felt his warmth, his touch upon her; she felt that she could melt into him. He kissed her, licked her, sucked her until she could stand it no longer. Something was building inside her, radiating outward from her pelvis, flooding her mind with light. Like waves crashing on a beach, thunderous pulses throbbed through her. Wave after wave went through her, filling her with a pleasure so exquisite she had never imagined it could be possible. She felt as if she were glowing, exploding!
She was only vaguely aware of the end of her rhythmic, uncontrollable movements. She looked down at him. He was smiling softly, his eyes reflecting the firelight; he looked so beautiful to her. Reaching down, touching his shoulders, she brought him up to her, and he entered her. Even this he did slowly, carefully, and as he slid inside her, she was filled again with a mounting warmth. He moved gently, but he was quickly lost in his own sensations as he tried to kiss her face, He came quickly with a burst of power and motion, which triggered her own responses once again, and she spiraled upward to join him at the peak.
Afterward they lay quietly. Michael supported himself on his elbows, keeping his weight from her, remaining inside her; he lightly brushed his lips across her cheek. “I’m sorry it happened so fast for me. Couldn’t control myself …”
&n
bsp; “Don’t worry,” she said. “It was beautiful.” She was still glowing, basking in the delicious lassitude. “Do you know something, Michael?”
“What’s that?”
“I think that’s the best time I’ve ever had … Can you believe that?”
“Yes, I can believe it.” He kissed her again, then laughed lightly. “If you want it to be the best, it probably was. Sex is in the mind, you know?”
“I’ve heard that before, but I don’t think I really understood it till now.”
“I’m glad. Glad that you do now, that is.”
“Make you feel good too?” She kissed his ear, blew warmly into it.
“Of course. I want to give you all the pleasure you can stand. I want you to get lost in it.”
“I’ve never known any man like you … God, that sounds so trite, doesn’t it? But I mean it.”
“I know you do, Lya. I can feel it, you know?”
“Exactly.” She lay back on the soft carpet and stretched, and he slipped away from her. She got up and went to the bathroom, bringing back a robe for herself and a plain terry-cloth beach wrap for him. He poured the last of the wine into their glasses and they toasted each other once more.
“Should I put another log on the fire?” he asked, picking up the poker and knocking the old ones around.
“It’s warm enough, but why not? It’s more romantic that way.”
“Are you a hopeless romantic, too?” asked Michael as he adjusted the new log.
Lya sighed. What a question … “Well, let’s say I’d like to be. I guess I just never found the right person to be a hopeless romantic with. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so.” He leaned close and kissed her. She could smell the tang of his after-shave, the aura of his perspiration. It was a warm, earthy combination.
“I guess I haven’t really given myself the chance to really let go. Not in a long time.” She could feel herself heading into familiar territory, and she wasn’t in the mood to get into it tonight. Fearful that it might spoil the atmosphere of the evening, she tried to change the subject. “Would you like some more wine? I think I’ve got another bottle.”
He picked up on her motivations immediately and smiled. “Don’t want to talk about it, huh? That’s okay. There’s plenty of time for that.”
He held her close again, and she could feel herself relaxing again, the tension draining away because he was so understanding. She looked up at him. “I hope this is real, do you know what I mean? I hope we’re not kidding each other.”
“So do I. All we need is a little time. We’ll know eventually.”
“But it’s scary, isn’t it?”
“It always is, if it’s going to be worth it. All the things we do that are worth it, they’re always hard, always scary.”
Lya nodded as she stared into the glowing embers. “The fire’s almost gone.”
“Another log?”
“No … let’s go to bed. Up there.” She indicated the loft where the platform bed overlooked the East River through the uncurtained glass.
“It looks like a great idea to me,” said Michael. He stood, adjusted his robe, and helped her to her feet.
Lya shook her head and grinned. “Believe it or not, I wouldn’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never slept up there. I’ve never used that bed. I bought it because I thought it was perfect, very romantic and all that. But … I never wanted to sleep up there alone, with the stars looking down at me, all by myself. I always thought it would be very lonely, and not very romantic at all. That’s silly, isn’t it?” She put her head on his shoulder and kissed his neck, lightly.
“I don’t think so. In fact I’m glad you waited. C’mon, let’s go.”
They climbed up, and she pulled back the quilt and the rainbow sheet. The ambient light through the window and the skylight cast a soft shade of blue over everything. Climbing in between the sheets, she watched him slide smoothly down beside her. His actions were sure and confident, yet gentle. He touched her shoulder, undraped the robe and let it fall down her back. He kissed her and said warmly in her ear, “Once more around the park?”
She smiled. “Why not?”
CHAPTER 22
PROVENZA
He was sitting in his office reading over some recent reports from some of the other detectives. When John had heard about the sewer inspector who had been chewed up to nothing but bones, his interest had been sparked, and he had decided to check it out a little further. Just see what the investigating officers had to say, maybe read the M.E.‘s report. He wasn’t sure why the case bothered him, but he figured there was reason enough. He had worked in the sewers himself years ago, and he remembered what a dismal, grim place they were.
As he was reading the M.E.‘s report once more, he heard someone come into the bull pen. There were two other detectives in the big room, both on their phones, and they didn’t even look up. John turned to see the captain standing in the door like he was looking for somebody, anybody, who might be free.
“Provenza, what’re you still doin’ heah? Where’s Mulhearn?”
“Haven’t seen him. I was just finishing up a few things. What’s up?”
The captain was a big, overweight man. His suits looked like he had bought them all about forty pounds ago, and he always reminded Provenza of an onion that was breaking out of its outer peels. “Where’s all my men? Why isn’t there ever anybody round heah when I need ‘em?!”
“I’m available, Captain. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Might be a nothin’, might be a somethin’. Aren’t you off duty?”
John smiled. “I don’t have anything better to do. What do you want me to do?”
“Got a girl downstairs at the desk. Name’s Constance Starkey. Dancer at one of them dives up on Times Square. She wants to report a missing person.”
“Can’t Sergeant Raczkowski handle it?”
“The broad’s hysterical, John. Why don’t you talk to her? Do me a favor, huh? I’ll get you an overtime voucher.”
“All right,” said John, folding up the reports and putting the folder on the corner of his desk. “I’ll go down and get her.”
Constance Starkey was a small, delicate-looking girl of nineteen. She had long, stringy brown hair and big fawn’s eyes. Her cheeks were a bit drawn and she had bad teeth, but she was attractive in a waifish kind of way. She was wearing a satin blouse with no bra and her small, pert breasts showed clearly through the thin material. She danced at a bar called Pandora’s Box up off Times Square, and Provenza could not help imagining her little frame wriggling around naked for all the poor lonely saps.
He finished taking down all the particulars on the report form, then looked up at the girl. Her expression was beyond worry; it was more that of someone who has just woken up from a nightmare.
“Now, what’s the story here? Who’s Ralphie?”
“He works with me at Pandora’s. He’s the doorman, the barker, you know. He didn’t show up for work tonight, and Mr. Maurice was real mad. Mr. Maurice is the boss, you know.”
“Uh-huh, and you think he’s missing now?”
“I don’t know what to think. When Ralphie didn’t show up I got scared, though. I thought about it, and I figured I better go to the police. Ralphie’s a nice little guy, and 1 don’t want anything to happen to him, you know? So I told Mr. Maurice that I was getting sick and he sent me home. I came here instead.”
“Miss Starkey,” said John, “I need to know why you think something happened to Ralphie … uh, Ralphie Loggins?”
“Because I was with him last night.”
“You dating this guy?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. I was going to visit a friend of mine down in the Village last night after work, and I didn’t have enough to take a cab, so I asked Ralphie to ride down with me on the subway. He takes the Broadway Local downtown every night.”
“Brave man,” said John, trying t
o make a little joke, but Constance Starkey did not smile.
“Well, he’s kind of weird, really. Last night he was acting pretty weird.”
“Please tell me what happened, Miss Starkey.”
“Yeah, well, we was riding the train, and when we got down to Houston Street, he jumps up and says we got to get off the train.”
“You mean at the station? Why?”
“I don’t know. He was acting very strange, like he was being followed or something. Real quiet, not talking much. And then, after the train pulls out, he climbs down off the platform and starts walking back up the tracks!”
“Why did he do that? And what did you do then?” John was asking the questions automatically, from his long experience of how to pull the right information out of witnesses. But as he was doing it, a warning signal was going off in the shadows of his mind.
“He said that he was looking for something, and that he had to go back down the tracks and look for it. He said I didn’t have to go with him if I didn’t want to, but I was scared to stay on the platform by myself, I mean, it was after three in the morning, right?”
“So you went with him?”
“Yeah. We walked back down the tracks and came up to this little station, a platform. But it wasn’t a place where the trains stopped, you know? There was a bunch of fog and funny light coming out of one wall, and—”
“Fog and funny light?” The warning signal in John’s mind was blinking furiously now. He knew that he was onto something weird, and that he wasn’t dealing with a nut case.
“Yeah, and Ralphie walked to the end of the little station and there was an opening. He walked through it and I followed him. Man, I was scared! But Ralphie, he just keeps on walking, and we went into a big cave. I mean a big cave, like the Luray caverns, you know?”
“You mean you went through the subway station into a cavern?” This was sounding crazier all the time, and normally John would have dismissed this one. But something kept him from closing the books on Miss Starkey. She was no actress; there was something about her naive delivery that smacked of the truth.
Night-Train Page 21
