Childers gave the desk a series of sharp slaps with his hand. “If you think this phony—this obvious composite is going to frighten me—”
“Sit down, Senator,” Brass repeated. “I have brought you here to ease your mind, not to add to your burden.”
Childers dropped into the chair. “What?”
“Although I don’t know why I should. I find your politics abhorrent, your ethics Byzantine, and your sexual practices repulsive. You almost deserve to continue thinking that you killed that girl.”
Childers jumped to his feet. “Excuse me, sir! What girl? Of just what is it you’re accusing me?” He leaned forward until his pugnacious nose was scant inches from Brass’s. “If you print one word of that libel, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth! Bigger men than you have tried to harass me, accuse me of things, horrible things, but they all went away. I saw to it—and I can see to you!”
“Sit down, sir!” Brass bellowed, with a voice louder and deeper than I had ever heard come from his throat before. Childers slowly lowered himself back into the chair. “Among your other qualities, you don’t listen,” Brass said. He reached into his desk drawer and took out a stack of photos. Leaning forward, he lined them up on the desk in front of Childers, one by one, as though he were laying out a hand of bridge for his partner. “You have seen these before?”
“Clever forgeries,” Childers said, leaning back in his chair and staring at Brass.
“These show you making love to a woman,” Brass said, pointing to the first photos in the row. “These show you beating the same woman with a belt and—is that a squash racket? These show the woman dead from her beating. The photos are all genuine. I have had them looked at by an expert. I have seen the girl.” He added two photos to the line. “Her body is in the morgue at Bellevue.”
Childers started to say something, but the words didn’t come out. He slumped in his chair. “She was found then,” he said. “They assured me… no matter.” He gestured toward me. “Send him out of here. I want to talk to you.”
“Mr. DeWitt stays,” Brass said. “If you like, I’ll do all the talking. There is nothing you can tell me that I do not already know, except possibly some corroborating details.”
Childers stared at something on the desk for a while, and then he straightened up and stared out the window behind Brass. He wasn’t seeing anything. “I can tell you,” he said finally, “because you already know. But even so, it isn’t easy. God, how I’ve wanted to tell someone, but who?”
“I don’t need details,” Brass said hurriedly. “Please, spare me the details. In broad outline, you occasionally like to beat women as part of what, I suppose, we must consider sexual foreplay.”
“It’s not that I like to,” Childers said. He looked down at the floor and crossed his arms in front of him and hugged himself as though to equalize a great pressure from within his chest. “It comes over me sometimes, an irresistible impulse. But I’ve never actually hurt anyone before.”
“You mean you haven’t damaged them beyond the ability of your money to repair,” Brass said harshly.
Childers looked up at Brass, and then looked away. “Yes, I suppose…”
“But you were in a room with this girl in Dr. von Mainard’s clinic, and you lost control,” Brass said.
“Yes.”
“He gave you an injection first?”
Childers thought for a second. “Yes. He always did. Vitamins.”
“Vitamins. And during this—session—you beat her.”
“Yes. I remember hitting her, but not that badly. I must have gone into a rage. I blacked out.”
“And Dr. von Mainard had pictures.”
“Yes. Of me hitting her, and of her lying dead. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
“And Dr. von Mainard wanted something in return for his silence?”
“Yes. Sort of. He said he would occasionally come to me with a request. Nothing onerous.”
Brass shook his head. “You are a fool,” he said. “Von Mainard was a Nazi, working for the German government. We found documentation; the Germans, apparently, keep records of everything. God knows what he would have asked—demanded—of you. First, you were given a powerful drug that released your inhibitions. And we already know where that would take you, don’t we? But, second, you didn’t kill the girl.”
“But I… the body.”
Brass passed Childers two more pictures. “This is the damage you did. It’s not pleasant, but notice that when these photographs were taken the girl was very much alive. Dr. von Mainard decided that a very badly beaten corpse would be a much stronger hold over you.”
“So he—”
“That’s right. And then he realized that a photographer he used was stealing negatives. And so several more people died. But you didn’t kill the girl.”
Childers was silent for a long time, his gaze shifting about the room. And then he said to Brass, “What do you want?”
“I’d like you to leave the senate, but I suppose that’s too much to ask,” Brass told him. “I’m not going to blackmail you. But I am going to hang on to a selected few of these pictures. If I hear of you assaulting another woman, I will consider using them. You can’t buy me off, and you can’t buy this girl off; she’s dead.”
Childers stood up. “I won’t offer to shake your hand,” he said. “But you have relieved me of a terrible burden, and I thank you.” He went to the door, and then paused and turned back to Brass. “I am thinking of remaining faithful to my wife henceforth,” he said. “She is an Epping and, like all of her clan, has a will of iron. I wouldn’t dare touch her. I am afraid of her.” And so he left.
“How on earth,” I said to Brass, “did you figure all that out?”
Brass shrugged. “There were two or three other possibilities,” he said, “but that was the most probable.” He stared out the window for a minute and then said over his shoulder, “Go open the mail and let me think. I have a column to get out, and I have no idea what to write about.”
* * *
A few last notes: Brass made a date with Bobbi Dworkyn to fill her in about her brother. He may have had more than talk in mind, since he didn’t have to take her to the Sky Room for conversation, but Brass keeps his personal life very personal and I want to keep my job. Cathy is singing at the Opal Room, backed by a quartet called the Spirit of Swing, and is packing them in. Glen Miller has made her an offer to front his band, but he’s on the road all year and she’s not sure she’d like that. She’s still thinking it over. I’m up to page forty-three of the novel. I’m still seeing Elizabeth, but—well, that’s my business. Garrett is writing an opera for dogs called The Barker of Seville. Gloria is—Gloria. Inscrutable as always. And a good thing, too.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to acknowledge the material assistance of Sharon Jarvis at a time when I truly needed assistance. And I thank Keith Kahla for intelligent editing that improved the book.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael Kurland is the author of more than thirty books, but is perhaps best known for his series of novels starring Professor Moriarty. The first volume, The Infernal Device, was nominated for an Edgar Award and the American Book Award, and received stellar reviews, including this from Isaac Asimov: “Michael Kurland has made Moriarty more interesting than Doyle ever made Holmes.” It was followed by Death By Gaslight, The Great Game, The Empress of India and Who Thinks Evil, published over a period of more than thirty years.
Kurland is also well known as a science fiction writer, and is the author of The Unicorn Girl, as well as the bestselling Ten Little Wizards and A Study in Sorcery, fair-play detective stories set in a world where magic works. He has edited several Sherlock Holmes anthologies and written non-fiction titles such as How to Solve a Murder: The Forensic Handbook. He lives in California.
COMING SOON FROM TITAN BOOKS
THE GIRLS IN THE HIGH-HEELED SHOES
AN ALEXANDER BRASS MYSTERY
MICHAEL KURL
AND
Two-Headed Mary, the philanthropic panhandler who dresses like a society matron when she approaches theatergoers for donations to nonexistent charities, is missing. So is sidelined hoofer Billie Trask, who disappeared from the cashier’s office of K. Jeffrey Welton’s hit show Lucky Lady with the weekend take. Could either of them have followed a third Broadway babe, Fine and Dandy chorine Lydia Laurent—whose strangled, nude body, accompanied by two complete suits of clothing, has been found in Central Park? If this seems like an awful lot of women in jeopardy, Two-Headed Mary turns out to have enough separate identities to populate a small European monarchy: She’s claimed under various guises by a Broadway hanger-on, a daughter, a husband, and a big-time con man, the Professor, who’s got even more cover stories than she does. Since the police are as helpless as they always are in 1935, it falls to New York World columnist Alexander Brass and his cheerfully wide-eyed sidekick Morgan DeWitt to dig up the truth.
“A smart, wide-eyed style that perfectly fits the time and place… constructs a thoroughly engaging showcase for a likable bunch of characters.” Publishers Weekly
“Michael Kurland writes a brilliant period piece that fans of the classic thirties mystery will simply devour. The inclusion of famous people adds a humorous but authentic touch to a fabulous whodunit.” Midwest Book Review
AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 2016
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DUST AND DESIRE
A JOEL SORRELL NOVEL
CONRAD WILLIAMS
The Four-Year-Old, an extraordinary killer, has arrived in London, hell-bent on destruction… PI Joel Sorrell is approached by the mysterious Kara Geenan, who is desperate to find her missing brother. Joel takes on the case but almost immediately, an attempt his made on his life. The body count increases. And then Kara vanishes too… as those close to Joel are sucked into his nightmare, he realizes he must track down the killer if he is to halt a grisly masterplan – even if it means sacrificing his own life.
“A gritty and compelling story of the damned and the damaged; crackling with dark energy and razor-sharp dialogue. Conrad Williams is an exciting new voice in crime fiction, and Joel Sorrell is a character you will want to see plenty more of.” Mark Billingham
TITANBOOKS.COM
SONATA FOR THE DEAD
A JOEL SORRELL NOVEL
CONRAD WILLIAMS
It’s four months on from the events of Dust and Desire… Joel Sorrell has recovered from the injuries he sustained in his fight with The Four-Year-Old. A body has been found, sealed into the dead space behind a false wall in a flat in Muswell Hill. Beheaded and surrounded by bloodstained pages of typewritten text, it is the third such murder committed by a killer known as The Hack. And it may be linked to his daughter’s disappearance.
PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR
“Williams is so good at what he does that he probably shouldn’t be allowed to do it anymore, for the sake of everyone’s sanity.” Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Conrad Williams writes dark and powerful prose balancing the poetic and elegant with needle-sharp incision.” Guardian
AVAILABLE JULY 2016
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HACK
AN F.X. SHEPHERD NOVEL
KIERAN CROWLEY
It’s a dog-eat-dog world at the infamous tabloid the New York Mail, where brand new pet columnist F.X. Shepherd finds himself on the trail of The Hacker, a serial killer who is targeting unpleasant celebrities. Bodies and suspects accumulate as Shepherd runs afoul of cutthroat office politics and Ginny Mac, a sexy reporter for a competing newspaper. But when Shepherd is contacted by the Hacker, he realizes he may be next on the list.
“Hack is a witty and incisive mystery set in the raucous world of tabloid journalism. Laugh out loud funny and suspenseful—it’s like Jack Reacher meets Jack Black.” Rebecca Cantrell, New York Times bestselling author of The Blood Gospel
“A rollicking, sharp-witted crime novel.” Kirkus Reviews
“The man is a legend, a master of his craft, and Hack is a seamlessly flowing, imaginative translation of these realms, blended together in exciting, suspenseful and oftentimes hilariously moving prose that reads like a conversation while serving as engrossing fiction, compelling insight and eye-opening commentary. It’s a joy to read and captures the imagination from the start.” Long Island Press
TITANBOOKS.COM
SHOOT
AN F.X. SHEPHERD NOVEL
KIERAN CROWLEY
F.X. Shepherd is juggling a new job as a PI, while keeping up with his strangely popular pet column. He is hired by a congressman who has received death threats, part of the escalating war between the Republican Party and Tea Party extremists. A series of murders of gun rights politicos at a presidential convention ratchets up the stakes, and Shepherd must fight off his liberal parents, do-anything-for-a-story reporter Jeannie Mac, and a gang of mysterious gunmen.
PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR
“An in-depth investigation… truly appalling all around: a story seemingly without goodness, except in the telling.” Kirkus Reviews
“A fast-paced account of the sordid circumstances surrounding the brutal October 2001 bludgeon murder of multimillionaire Ted Ammon.” Publishers Weekly
AVAILABLE OCTOBER 2016
TITANBOOKS.COM
Too Soon Dead Page 25
