by Robin Caroll
Dimitri shook his head, dreading hearing, but knowing he needed to.
“He was mysteriously attacked and paralyzed. He won’t speak of the accident or what caused it.”
No way could Zoey get involved with this. “What does Solomon say?”
“He’s scared, Dimitri. Totally petrified. He’s one of the few who gets out and is able to see the real world and knows that his father has limited them all. He wants to get away, but after what happened with Samuel and Ezra, he’s terrified.”
Dimitri didn’t blame him. “So what’s his plan?”
Zoey took another sip of water. “His father’s so old, he keeps thinking he should die soon. He says every time the old man gets sick, all the brothers get together and pray, and every time he gets well. Solomon says his father tells them that’s because he’s still doing God’s work.” She shrugged. “For Solomon and his brothers who doubt his father’s ways…well, if he wasn’t doing God’s work, don’t you think he’d have died by now?”
Modern medicine had certainly extended lifespans in recent generations. “So, if his father was dead or out of the picture, everybody would what, just disband?”
“It gets complicated here, too.” Zoey pushed her long, dark, red hair out of her face and over her shoulder. “It seems some of the brothers are true believers of everything their father has taught them, while some of the others, like Solomon, have come to realize their dad is pretty warped. The rule in the group is that when one of the Youngbloods turn sixty-five, they step into the leadership role, under their dad’s authority, of course.” She took another drink of water.
“Solomon says that right now his brother David is in charge, and David understands his father’s way isn’t necessarily the right way. Solomon says David is very peaceful and tries to keep everyone calm with each other.”
Dimitri nodded. “Well, that’s moving in the right direction.” There might be hope yet.
“But, one of the ones who follow their dad’s ways is about to turn sixty-five next year. He’s supposedly very much like his father. Rigid and actually, according to Solomon, even more unforgiving. He has a violent streak and an explosive temper.”
“Oh.” Dimitri didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell Zoey to stay far away from the whole lot of them, but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to. Not if her heart was already involved with Solomon. “So what does Solomon want to do?”
She took the last gulp of water, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin in the corner. “I told him he had to leave. I told him I couldn’t be with him if he stayed.”
An ultimatum. Hmm. Might work. “What did he say?”
“He understood, and he agreed. He said he’s subconsciously known for years that he needed to get away and that falling in love with me—he actually told me that he loved me—” Zoey grinned and blushed. “He said that because of me, he knows he can’t wait. Can’t wait for his father to die or to see what happens with his brothers. He needs to get out while he can, even if he’s scared.”
Dimitri nodded. “Sounds like he’s made the right decision. For you two, but also for himself.” He smiled, knowing that Zoey had to be relieved, but he still had his doubts. His first concern, of course, was Zoey and little Sam’s safety and well-being. “So, what’s his plan, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She took his hand. “He plans to leave tonight, just not go back home after the show.”
Oh, this might not be a good idea. “Won’t he have his chaperone tonight?”
She nodded. “But he’ll ditch him and come stay at my house. At least for a little while until he can get some money. That’s another reason this show tonight is so important. If we can sell at least four pieces, if he budgets well, he should be okay financially for a month or so until he can start earning a regular income from his art.”
“Oh, Zoey. You can’t do that. Your place will be the first place they look. That’s putting yourself and your son at risk.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “I don’t have another choice. Now that he knows the truth and wants to get out, I can’t not help him. There’s nothing else for me to do.”
Dimitri’s stomach dropped to his toes at the thought of something happening to Zoey or Sam. He let out a long breath. “No.” He couldn’t put Solomon up at the hotel. They were at full capacity, but also, he couldn’t put everyone at the Darkwater Inn in possible danger. “He can stay with me at my house. They won’t think to look for him there.”
Zoey’s smile lit up her entire face. “Are you sure, Dimitri? I mean, I appreciate it and want to jump on your offer, but I want you to be sure. I mean, it’s your safety and your house, right?”
He nodded, already regretting the offer but knowing there wasn’t any other viable option at the moment. “I’m sure.”
Leaning over, Zoey flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Dimitri. Solomon will be so relieved to know he won’t have to go back to his father or Cretum Deus again.”
1938
“William? William from St. Mary’s? It is you, isn’t it?” The young man stopped in front of him, just as was planned.
Will faked his confusion, then grinned. “Harold? Harold Holmes, is it really you?”
“It’s Harold Pampalon now.” He ignored Will’s outstretched hand and gave him a side hug and clap on the back. “Oh, man, I can’t believe this! I always wondered what happened to you. Even tried to look you up a couple of years ago but had no luck.”
“You, too. One day, you just were gone from St. Mary’s. It was like you disappeared. The nuns said you were adopted, but they wouldn’t give much information.” Will took a subtle step backward. The demon had to be hiding inside Harold. If it recognized the worker of God that Will was, no telling how it would react.
“We have to catch up. Are you busy right now? Can we grab a cup of coffee?”
Will grinned. “I actually am free at the moment.”
“Great. Come on. Let’s go to my hotel.” He began to lead Will down the street.
“You’re staying at a hotel?” He hoped his voice carried the ring of confusion he’d worked hard to perfect over the last two weeks.
Harold laughed. “No, my family owns it. Come on.” He clapped Will on the back again.
Will quickened his stride, trying not to recoil as his touch. He couldn’t be sullied by the demon. “So that’s who adopted you?”
“Yes. A great couple, Louis and Eva Pampalon. They’re wonderful. I can’t wait for you to meet them. And I have a little brother who was just born last year. I never thought I’d find a kid cute after living in the asylums, but he’s swell. What about you?”
“Oh, I wasn’t adopted. I left St. Mary’s when they moved. James and George, too. We became each other’s family.”
“Wow.” Harold opened the door to the Darkwater Inn, letting Will enter first. “So you guys are all together, huh? That’s great. I just can’t believe this. It’s so fortuitous.” He led the way to the small diner-like counter. He motioned to the man behind the counter. “Two coffees.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Pampalon.”
Will clenched his jaw. He should have the respect like Harold. He’d earned it. He hadn’t been demon spawn.
“So you and the boys are still together, huh? What do you do?”
“I’ve become a religious leader of sorts.”
Harold’s eyes widened. “After all of your spouting about the nuns and the priests, you became a religious leader.” He grinned and shook his head.
The man behind the counter placed two steaming cups of coffee on saucers in front of them, then handed Harold a little jar of cream. As Harold sweetened and diluted his coffee like a woman, Will forced himself to smile. “James and George do some construction work. They just finished up a job over on the bridge over in City Park.” He took a sip of his black coffee, ready to play his next card in the plan he’d devised. “We’re hoping to find some other construc
tion-type work, but with Thanksgiving in just a couple of weeks and it being so close to Christmas…”
Harold set his cup into his saucer with barely a clink. “We just started some construction work here at the hotel.”
“Really?” Will widened his eyes and put on what he was sure was a surprised expression. He’d practiced it over and over for the past week just for this moment.
Harold nodded. “Yes. We’re adding in a restaurant and a courtyard along the side of the hotel. I’m sure we could use more crew workers. Dad will be back soon. I’ll introduce you. I know you’ll like him. He’s great. I bet we’ll be able to hire you and the guys.” Harold took another sip of coffee. “And you all must come for Thanksgiving. We always have quite the spread—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and so many pies that you can’t eat a slice of each one at one sitting.”
“That sounds swell.” Will smiled against the fake friendliness. “Oh, and I go by Will now. Will Youngblood.”
18
— Addy
“You look as pretty as a picture, Addybear.” Vincent smiled.
Addy nodded at her father, even as she felt the blush. She’d debated for quite some time between a dress and the pantsuit, finally going with the pantsuit for more comfort. “You look rather dashing yourself, there.” Addy studied him for any sign of tiredness. “Are you sure you feel up to going?”
“I’m not wild about wearing the monkey suit, but it’ll be nice to mix and mingle with people for a bit. I’m a little tired of being stuck in this hotel room, nice as it is.”
“Well, you make that tux look good, Daddy.”
“Has Beau told you anything more about the case?”
“Nothing more than what you already know.” She let out a little sigh as she touched up her lipstick in the parlor mirror, silently wishing, just a little, that Zoey had asked her to babysit little Sam. Since she hadn’t gotten a call, she was stuck going to the art show as an adult, complete with heels. At least she’d get to see Tracey. She couldn’t wait to see her best friend and Geoff together. She’d be able to get a read how serious they were as a couple once she saw them together.
“I’ve gone over my research in depth.” He fidgeted with the bow tie.
She caught his reflection in the mirror and turned to fix the tie for him. “Oh?”
“Yeah. The common MO of all the attacks was the way the Axeman entered the houses—through a chiseled hole in a door, and the weapon he used—an axe.”
Stepping back, she smoothed his tuxedo jacket. “Right.”
“Well, isn’t that a little odd? The way he got into the houses?”
“Everything about him is odd. What do you mean?” She grabbed the lint roller and ran it over his back.
Her father waved off her fussing. “Do you have any idea the amount of work that it takes to chisel a panel from a door? Not to mention how small those were, even back then? Many claimed that the openings were too small for a grown man to pass through.”
She ran the lint roller over her black slacks. “Yeah, but in the current cases, the person mimicking the Axeman doesn’t use a chisel or anything. At least, Beau hasn’t told me any differently.”
Vincent continued. “With the original Axeman, the motive for the attacks was never considered to be robbery since the Axeman never took anything from his victim’s homes. I’m going to assume that’s the same with the attacks recently.”
Addy shook her head. “Beau hasn’t said anything was taken.”
“Since the majority of the original attacks were against Italian-Americans, back in the day some believed the attacks were racially motived. That doesn’t apply to the copycat today. Also, many of the original victims were grocers, so some theorized that the attacks were Mafia hits conducted to pressure the businesses into paying protection taxes. But neither applies to the attacks of today.”
“True. I’m not even sure if one of the people attacked is even in the grocery business.”
Vincent grabbed a tin of Altoids from the desk and slipped them into his front right pants pocket. “Some researchers pointed out that most of the Axeman attacks seemed to target women and could have been sexually motivated, especially since the Axeman seemed to only attack the men when they blocked his attempts to murder the women. That, too, doesn’t seem to apply to the current attacks.”
Addy had just about had enough of the Axeman. If only her father realized that when he was attacked, most likely an axe had been what caused the gash on his head.
But Vincent continued. “The Axeman’s ability to quickly flee the scene—as if he had wings, as one witness stated—and the fact that the door holes he used to get into the houses were so small led the townspeople to wonder if the Axeman truly was, as his infamous letter stated, some sort of ungodly demon.”
She was done with the conversation, the Axeman, and demons. Done. Addy checked the time on her cell. Man, she’d forgotten to charge her phone. It was already down to twenty-five percent. She should charge it before the event. Maybe she could charge it in Dimitri’s office. “Are you ready? I need to check with Dimitri and everything before this event actually begins.” She tucked her cell phone into the pocket of her slacks, another benefit of choosing the pantsuit over the dress—pockets.
“Sure, honey. Let’s go.” Her father held out his arm to escort her.
They made their way down the hall. She smiled at Richard, the elevator attendant as they stepped into the car.
“Good evening, Mr. and Ms. Fountaine.” He nodded at Addy. “You look especially lovely, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” The door slid shut and music filled the space. It startled her. “Richard, when did we start having, literally, elevator music?”
He shrugged. “I just noticed it this evening. It wasn’t playing when I came on right after lunch. It’s kind of catchy. Jazzy. I like it.”
Addy went very still as she listened. Her heart began to race as she recognized the tune. She stared at her father. “We didn’t upgrade to any elevator music. I don’t even know how it’s playing in here. I think it’s the same tune that the music box I got yesterday plays.”
“What music box?” Vincent’s stare penetrated through her.
“One was delivered to me yesterday morning. Wrapped in a box. A gift with a bow. I’m pretty certain it plays this tune. My phone app can’t really identify the song. It gives me a different one every time I check.”
“Where’s this music box?”
“In my office.”
The elevator door opened. “Show me.” Her father’s tone left no room for argument. Not that she had an argument.
“Is there something I should do?” the elevator attendant asked.
“No. I’ll have someone check into it. Thank you.”
She quickly led her father across the lobby and down the hall to her office. She flipped on the lights and steered her father toward the settee table with the music box. “There.”
He lifted the lid and the upbeat tune filled the office. “What was inside?”
“Nothing.” Her stomach twisted into knots. She didn’t know what was going on, but that someone had the ability to get music into one of her elevator cars without her knowledge unnerved her more than a gift of a music box.
“Did you tell Beau about the box?”
“No.” She caught the disapproving line of her father’s face. “To be perfectly honest, I thought it might have been a gift from Dimitri.”
“Since you have both those boys on a string, you didn’t want to tell Beau.” Again, the disapproval.
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
She let out a slow breath. “Not that it’s really any of your business, Dad, but I told Dimitri that there wasn’t a future for us.” She should’ve felt sadder at saying that aloud, but she didn’t, which just confirmed—again, that she’d made the right decision.
Her father struggled to refrain from smiling, but it was so obvious. She narrowed her eyes at him. �
�Daddy.”
“He’s a nice-enough guy, honey, but just not for you.” He gave her a quick hug. “But I’m sorry you had to have a hard conversation.”
“It was, surprisingly, easier than I would’ve thought. Dimitri’s a gentleman and was extremely gracious and kind. I don’t think it’ll be too awkward to transition back to our friendship.”
“That’s good.” Vincent lifted the music box and inspected it, much like Addy had done. “So, um, what did Beau say when you told him?”
She should teach her father a lesson and tell him she called everything off with Beau, too, but she wasn’t that cruel. “I haven’t said anything to him yet.”
He waved the music box before setting it down. “But Dimitri didn’t send you this?”
“I forgot to ask him. We had a harder conversation to have.”
He nodded. “Hang on a minute.” He pulled out his new smartphone. He wound the music box and listened for a minute, then shut the lid. He tapped on his phone, then the same tune as the box spilled out from his phone.
“You got it to recognize the song? Man, I guess I’m really going to have to upgrade my phone now.”
“No, it’s not a song recognition app.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the midi version of the “Axman’s Jazz (Don't Scare Me Papa)” by Joseph John Davilla, written in 1919.”
Her heart free-fell to her gut. “It’s the same song that was playing in the elevator, too, isn’t it?”
Her father nodded. “Somebody’s sending you a message, Addybear, and I don’t like it. Not one little bit.”
“Me either.” Thoughts pummeled her mind like a raging hurricane. “Okay, I need to get with our security team and tech team and find out how the music’s getting into the elevator and get it stopped.”
“They should be able to backtrack it and find the origin.”
“You wait here. I’m going to security.” She reached for her door handle.
