by Dan Willis
Alex took all this in as he entered, setting his kit bag on the bed.
“Look around for anything suspicious,” Alex said as he took out his multi-lamp, setting it on the table by the chair.
“Like what?” Norton said, peering into the wastebasket by the door.
“Empty alchemy vials, used syringes,” Alex said. “That kind of thing.” He clipped the silverlight burner into the lamp, the retrieved his oculus from the bag. Since discovering the hidden text in the Monograph, Alex had worked on his oculus. The new one, which he called model two, was much smaller and fit directly over his eye. It still had a small tube but unlike his original, it was only about an inch and a half long. Multiple rings ran around the outside for focusing the lens and changing the color, but the new design was all internal. The entire oculus now looked like a weirdly shaped monocle.
Strapping it on, Alex lit the burner, then swept the room. Being that this was a hospital room, the whole place lit up in various shades of silver-white glow. Evidence of bodily fluids was everywhere, even a disturbing spray that ran up the wall to the ceiling that Alex knew to be arterial blood.
Since the walls and floor were too covered with stains both old and new, Alex confined his examination to the blankets and sheets on the bed. These, at least, were washed regularly, so fresh stains should be very evident.
The top of the blanket had a small spot that looked like the remnants of vomit, not surprising for someone who’d been poisoned. The rest of the sheets showed signs of sweat and urine, but nothing that looked suspicious. He checked very carefully up by where Helen’s head would have been, looking for drips of alchemical potions, but found nothing.
Frustrated, he turned and picked up the two pillows, setting them on the bed. He shown the light over them, revealing sweat stains, but that was it.
“This place is empty, Lockerby,” Detective Norton said, peering under the bed. “You got anything?”
“Not yet,” Alex said, turning the pillows over. “Check the cabinets.”
“What?” Norton scoffed. “You think someone came in here, killed the girl, and then hid the evidence with her clothes?”
Alex just shrugged.
“You don’t know if you don’t look,” he said.
Norton sighed, but turned toward the cabinet.
“Fine,” he said.
Alex felt his skin prickle as the detective opened the wardrobe and there was a brief pressure in his eardrums. He was about to say something, but the silverlight on the second pillow made him stop.
“Detective,” he said, beaconing the slovenly man over. “You’d better have a look at this.” He slipped his oculus over his head and passed it to Norton. “Hold this over your eye.”
The detective didn’t bother with the strap, simply holding the little tube up to his eye and closing the other.
“What the hell is that?” he growled once he pointed the oculus at the pillows.
Alex knew what the silverlight was revealing. It had looked like the face of a ghost from a comic book with a title like, “Tales of Terror.” There were two holes where the eyes would be, the impressions of cheekbones and a nose, and then a long opening for a mouth.
“It’s Helen Mitchell’s face,” Alex said. “Someone held this pillow down on her hard enough to make that impression from the sweat and oils on her skin.”
“You think someone suffocated her?” Norton said. “Gutsy. She might have been unconscious, but there’s no way they could be sure. What if she’d struggled?”
“They didn’t leave anything to chance,” Alex said, blowing out his lamp and swapping the silverlight burner for the ghostlight one. “Have a look over here and tell me what you see.”
He lit the lantern, then shone the greenish light on the open doors of the cabinet that held Helen’s clothes.
“There’s a symbol of some kind on the inside of the right door,” Norton said. “It looks like it’s moving.”
“It’s a privacy rune,” Alex said. “They usually last about an hour, so whoever killed Helen put it here so he wouldn’t be disturbed. It’s a good thing we came right over, it’ll probably be gone in a few more minutes.”
“All right,” Norton said, handing Alex the oculus. “How did you know it was there?”
“I felt the air pressure change when you opened the door,” Alex said, slipping his oculus back on. He looked at the privacy rune, turning slowly in the light of his lamp. It was similar to the one he had in his own rune book, but this one would only block sound. Alex’s rune would also prevent scrying. “Whoever did this knew their stuff,” he said, peering at the rune. “That’s why they put it on the inside of the door. Privacy runes make it impossible for sound to travel outside of the room they’re in, so with the door to this cabinet open, it covers the whole room, but with it closed…”
“It silences the closet,” Norton said. “So when our killer left, the cop outside didn’t notice anything funny. Smart.”
Alex took off his oculus and grinned at the rumpled man.
“Looks like you were right, Detective,” he said. “Helen Mitchell didn’t poison Senator Young. Both of them were murdered.”
10
The Bookie
“So where was your client a few hours ago?” Detective Norton said, standing with his hands on his hips.
Alex laughed at that as he packed up his kit.
“You thought she was a suspect,” he said. “You and I both know you have someone watching her, and if she was anywhere near this hospital today, you would have led with that.”
The Detective ground his teeth and looked back up at the open closet door. He couldn’t see the rune now, but he knew it was there.
“She could have paid to have someone off the girl,” he said, sticking to his suspicions.
“Maybe,” Alex said with a shrug. “She’s got money and a certain amount of power, so she might know someone she could hire for this kind of job.”
“But?” Norton said, reading Alex’s expression.
Alex pointed to the space where the now invisible rune clung to the inside of the cabinet door.
“This isn’t some two-bit thug,” he said. “Whoever did this had a plan, and a good one. They wanted to make Helen’s death look like suicide, just like it said in that letter you found. Even the most famous mafia hit-men back in the day never bothered with this kind of theatricality. I think you’re looking for a pro.”
“An assassin?” Norton said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Like in a dime novel?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched,” Alex said, closing his bag and standing, “but you and I both know that someone murdered a U.S. Senator and tried to cover it up. That’s not a jealous lover or a slighted constituent, this is someone with deep pockets and a motive that would be obvious if Senator Young’s death was declared a murder.”
Norton thought about that for a minute, stroking his chin.
“You’ve got a point,” he admitted. “Both the FBI and my Captain want this case swept under the rug as quickly as possible. They definitely don’t want to hear anything about why Helen Mitchell didn’t manage to kill herself when the note said she intended to. So now we need to figure out who had a motive to want the Senator out of the way.”
“It has to have something to do with his job,” Alex said. “Maybe some law he was proposing or bill he was blocking? Would someone kill over that?”
Now it was Detective Norton’s turn to laugh.
“Are you kidding, Lockerby? If the right law gets passed here, it could mean millions to a business back in the Senator’s home state.”
“So what changes with Senator Young’s death?” Alex asked. “Who stands to reap a windfall now that he’s out of the way?”
Norton sighed and rubbed his temples.
“That isn’t likely to be a short list,” he admitted. “And figuring it out is going to be like untangling a big knot. I know a guy over in the Senate clerk’s office. I’ll call him in the morning and try to fin
d out what was coming up for a vote this week.”
It was a sound enough place to start, but the way Detective Norton said it, Alex could tell he didn’t have much hope that tactic would bear fruit.
“You might want to ask around about a hit man who has runewright training,” Alex added. “That’s not going to be a common combination, so maybe you’ll get lucky.”
Norton sighed and nodded. It was clear he thought it was a long shot as well. The FBI might know more about hitters, but if Norton brought the Bureau in on this, it was likely they’d just take the case from him and leave him out in the cold. Besides, the FBI wanted this case closed. If Norton made waves, someone might decide to make an example of him.
“Call your clerk,” Alex said. “I’ll see if Mrs. Young can shed any light on possible motives. I’ve got another case I have to run down tomorrow morning so I’ll call you around noon and we can compare notes.”
Norton was about to answer when the uniformed officer who’d been stationed in the hall pushed the door open and leaned in.
“The Feds are here,” he said.
Alex headed for the door and peered out. A group of men in dark suits were coming up the hall from the direction of the elevator. As they moved, he caught a flash of platinum blonde hair.
“Hold this,” he said to the officer as he pushed the door open. The man looked confused but held the door, effectively screening Alex from the approaching group. “Now stay that way till the Feds get here.”
“Don’t forget,” Norton hissed as Alex headed down the hall in the opposite direction. “Noon tomorrow.”
Alex gave the man the okay sign as he hustled through the door to the stairwell at the far end of the hall.
Alex paused on his way out of the hospital to make a call. He pulled the card Connie had given him from the back of his rune book and dialed the mobster’s number.
“Hello,” a gruff voice answered after a single ring.
“I need to speak to Connie.”
“He ain’t here,” the gruff voice came back. “What da’ya want?”
“Get a message to him,” Alex said, irritation overflowing in his voice. “This is Alex Lockerby, I have a lead in Mr. Casetti’s case and I need him to meet me at my hotel as soon as possible. You got that?”
There was silence on the line for a moment, then Alex heard muffled voices.
“Alex,” Tony Casetti’s voice came on. “We’ve been wondering where you got off to.”
“Chasing leads,” Alex said. “I found a paper with Colton’s receipts, it had ‘five hundred dollars’ written on it and there’s a bookie’s mark in the corner.”
“You think Colton got in bad with a bookie?” Lucky Tony growled.
“I think five hundred is a lot of cash,” Alex said.
“Not for me,” came the reply. “If Colton was having trouble with some number runner, I’d have taken care of the debt.”
“Maybe he didn’t want you to know,” Alex suggested. “But I figure that rather than guess, Connie and I should go have a word with the bookie.”
“You recognized his mark?” Lucky Tony said, sounding impressed.
“No,” Alex admitted, “but this is a bill for half a grand, that makes it important to our bookie. That means I can use a finding rune and follow it right to him.”
“Connie’s already over at your hotel,” Tony said. “Do you need him to come get you?”
“No,” Alex said, not really wanting to explain to Lucky Tony why he was in a hospital filled with cops and Feds. “I’ll grab a cab, and meet him there.”
Fifteen minutes later, Alex opened the door to his room in the Hay-Adams Hotel with Lucky Tony’s man Connie in tow.
“Nice,” the mob man said, looking around at the sumptuous room. “I didn’t realize being a private dick paid so well.”
“Andrew Barton is paying for the room,” Alex said, tossing his hat on the chair next to the door. “He’s in town finalizing a business deal and I do runewright work for him.”
“So you didn’t come to D.C. to figure out who killed that Senator?” Connie asked. There was a note in the man’s voice that caught Alex’s attention and he turned.
“Why?”
Connie shut the door to the hall, then gave Alex a hard look. It was clearly meant to be intimidating, but Alex knew Lucky Tony still needed him to find his nephew. That meant Connie wasn’t about to attack him. Still, he touched his flash ring with the tip of his left thumb just in case.
“I got a call right before I heard from the boss,” Connie said. He spoke easily, like any regular conversation, but he was still attempting to stare Alex down. “It was from one of my people at the hospital. We keep a guy there in case one of ours is brought in. Anyway, he said you were there and that you had been talking to some Feds.”
“And you figured I was trying to sell out your boss?” Alex asked, letting the ghost of an amused smile play across his lips.
“The thought occurred to me,” Connie replied.
“I was at the hospital because the wife of the murdered Senator wants me to figure out who killed him,” Alex explained. “The girl he was in the hotel room with just died, even though she was supposed to recover, so I helped one of the local cops figure out she was murdered.”
For the first time, Connie’s implacable expression split into a sneer.
“And what about the case you’re supposed to be working on?” he demanded. “Every minute the boss’s nephew is out there the chances get better that he ain’t coming home alive.”
Alex stared back at Connie for a long moment before answering. He’d heard this complaint before, from many clients. Usually he told them that if they didn’t like the way he was handling their case, they could seek out someone else to help. In this instance, he’d have to try something else.
“How long have you been working for Mr. Casetti?” he asked.
Connie’s brows furrowed for a moment at the seeming change of subject.
“Twenty-three years,” the mobster replied. “Why?”
Alex shrugged and took out a cigarette.
“How long before Tony trusted you with a big job?” he asked, and he squeezed his lighter to life. “Something he let you handle by yourself.”
“I don’t know,” Connie growled. “Four years, maybe five.”
“Right,” Alex said, blowing out a plume of smoke. “He didn’t send you out on your own until you understood the job, until you knew the business.” Alex took a step forward and stabbed his finger into Connie’s chest. “So don’t you dare come in here and tell me how to do my job. Despite what your boss said, he didn’t pick me because of some long forgotten, shirt-tail connection. He wanted me because I’m the best. He wanted me because he knows I won’t rest until I’ve found his nephew, preferably alive.”
Connie glared at Alex for a long moment, even leaning in toward him a bit.
“You’d better hope you find him alive,” he said in a quiet, dangerous voice. “If your running around working on other people’s problems costs Colton his life, things are going to end badly for you.”
“If there had been anything I could have done to help find Colton earlier, that’s what I would have been doing,” Alex growled back. “Right now the only clue we’ve got is a bill from a bookie. It’s not the best connection I could hope for, but as long as our man isn’t on the move, my rune should be able to find him.”
Connie stared into Alex’s eyes for another long moment, then he took a step back.
“So you had to wait until the bookie settled into his usual haunt,” he said.
Alex nodded and let his angry expression slacken, replacing it with a conspiratorial grin.
“I figure by now he’s in a booth in some bar or nightclub where he settles up the day’s business,” Alex said. He turned and walked over to the coffee table where he’d set up his map of the District. Reaching into his pocket, he dropped the bookie’s note onto the map, then added a finding rune from his book.
&
nbsp; Connie followed, standing a few feet away from the table as Alex placed the brass compass on top of the note, then added the rune on top. Alex touched the burning end of his cigarette to the flash paper, and this time the glowing rune it left behind began spinning slowly. Beneath where it hovered in the air, the compass needle began to turn as well.
Alex suppressed a sigh of relief. He’d been pretty sure that with the aid of his flash ring he could have taken Connie in a fight, but it would have been a narrow victory. Men like Connie had the air of casual violence about them, and Alex had no illusions that Lucky Tony’s watchdog could not handle himself in a fight. With the finding rune doing its job, the odds that Alex and Connie would come to blows were greatly reduced.
As the rune faded and then burst into a shower of orange sparks, Alex took hold of the compass and began sliding it along the map. The needle immediately began turning, indicating a spot in the northeastern part of the city.
“Looks like our bookie is right here,” Alex said, circling the corner of a block with the compass, keeping the needle pointing directly to the spot.
“Not bad,” Connie said, nodding his approval.
Alex gave him a grin and picked up the compass.
“What say we take a ride over there and find out if he knows anything about the whereabouts of Colton Pierce?”
The Eastern Star was a nightclub located on a corner where two busy streets came together. It wasn’t as upscale as a Core nightclub in New York, but it did have a well-dressed man in a suit out front to keep out the riffraff.
“You sure our bookie is in there?” Connie asked as he and Alex crossed the street toward the club.
Alex held out his brass compass, showing that the needle was pointing right to the building.
“It’s the kind of place I’d expect for a bookie taking bets for half a grand,” Alex said. “You ever been here?”
“No,” Connie said. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
