“Changed your name,” I said. “First you became an artist’s model for that fool Fantu Belair and then, after meeting Paulie, you became a stripper.”
“You know Fantu?”
“Met him. He wasn’t much help.”
“I started out modeling because no one wanted an ID and I got paid in cash,” she said. “Stripping was the same only it paid better.”
“Smart. But somehow they found out you came to New York. They sent the man of many names after you.”
“I called my boyfriend to tell him I was all right. I used a throwaway phone but somehow they traced it here.”
“Forty-nine dead bodies under her summer home,” I said. “Damn. Did you tell Evangeline that?”
“I think she already knew. The minute I said I had a letter from her son she was worried. I didn’t tell her about the storage space though.”
“What storage space?”
“Charles Gray killed himself soon after he wrote the letter. Before that he took a ninety-nine-year lease on a storage space in Wyoming. He says that there are forty-nine trophies there.”
“Forty-nine,” I said again. “The rich always go overboard.”
I had a storage space too, with my own variety of trophies. I hadn’t murdered anyone to get them but they were various pieces of evidence I had to prove that I had set up people for crimes they had not committed.
“I, I don’t think he expected anybody to find the letter for a long time. It was a mistake that the book came to the Enclave. The Gray family made a donation of less valuable books but somehow it got included. That’s why I studied it so closely. We don’t usually get such valuable gifts.”
“Do you have the book?”
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s too hard to bring things out of there. They search you with one of those machines they use at airport security. It can see if there’s a dime in your pocket.”
“So where is it?”
“There’s an old Bible that Indulf the Aggressor, an old Scottish king, used to hide his flask from his wife. It’s hollowed out and I put the book in there. I’m the only one who knows about it. It’s a part of the permanent collection and I, I don’t know. I kind of liked keeping it a secret... like I was helping the old king.”
“So it’s still in the Enclave?”
“Yes.”
“The letter, too?”
“Everything,” she said with a nod.
For some reason I thought of Marella. This made me smile. If she and I were working together this would be just another job. A few million dollars in the old suitcase and off to Argentina or maybe Monaco. Hell! This is the twenty-first century — we could go to Moscow or Beijing.
“I can get you out of this,” I said.
“How?”
“First we have to cut Paulie loose. He’s a good guy and he helped you but he’s not to be trusted when it comes to power and money like this.”
Not answering was her tacit approval.
I handed her the brown envelope with the money I’d taken from my office.
“There’s five thousand dollars in here. Go over there and give it to Paulie. Tell him that you’re working with me now and that if everything works out you’ll be giving him that much again.”
“This is too much,” she said. “I’ll never be able to pay you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “In for a penny...”
She took the envelope and went over to Paulie. They talked for maybe three minutes. He wrote down something and gave it to her, then he looked at me.
I smiled and waved.
When Celia came back to the table she was ready for business. Good. I was born ready.
43
While Celia used dead Josh Farth’s money to purchase our good-bye from Paulie DeGeorges, I made a call. It was over before she returned to the table.
“What he say?” I asked when she was seated again.
“That you had a reputation for being rough,” she said. “That he only half believed that people were really after me until you found him. He said that his friend had told him to stay away from you if he could.”
“Did Paulie give you the same advice?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He said that if it was you looking for me then I probably needed the help of someone like you.”
“He’s a puzzle, that Paulie. Usually the only thing you could expect from a guy with a record like his is to pick your pocket and then ask for a loan.”
“Donald said that without Paulie he would have never made it in prison. He said that if you respect him Paulie will do anything for you.”
“When’s the last time you ate?” I said.
“Yesterday.”
“What can I get you?”
“I’m not really hungry,” she said.
“You have to keep up your strength to be able to outrun the people Dame Gray’s gonna put on you.”
“I don’t want to run anymore. I’m willing to tell her where the book is without any money,” Celia said. “All I need is for you to tell her that.”
“You could have called at any time and said that,” I countered. “But you haven’t because you know that it’s not the letter but what the letter says. It’s what’s in your head that puts you in a sling.”
Celia actually started to cry.
“You still need to eat,” I said.
I called Bug while Celia ate a concoction called granola-oatmeal along with a chocolate croissant and a glass of factory-squeezed orange juice.
“Hello, LT,” he said. “You talk to Zephyra yet?”
“I’m calling you, Tiny,” I replied, using his lesser-known nickname. “You make any headway on that satellite connection?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d like you to meet me at Hush’s house in an hour so we can talk about it.”
“No.”
“No?”
Celia was eating lustily. Sometimes hope gives you an appetite.
“I’m not going to that man’s house,” Bug said. “Not ever.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to know where he lives or what he looks like.”
Bug was a genius. Of course he didn’t want to be familiar with a hit man that the president of the United States was willing to give license to.
“Okay,” I said. “Where then?”
“You know that place on Christopher called Smokers?”
“Two hours from now,” I said and disconnected the call.
“This is good,” she said, and I found myself hoping that she’d live to eat ten thousand breakfasts more.
“Hey, Pops,” Twill said.
He wore coal-gray slacks, a teal T-shirt, and a light jacket that was such a dark red that it almost ran purple.
I could see in Celia’s face what everyone saw when first encountering my son. He was beautiful, willing, and there was something about him that reminded you of Bible stories about great and sometimes evil men that stole hearts that never wanted to be returned.
“Son,” I said. “Pull up a seat.”
Twill kindly asked our nearest neighbors if he could take their extra chair and then pulled it close to Celia.
“Hi,” he said to her, holding out a hand. “I’m Twill, this old guy’s son.”
“Celia,” she said, shaking with one hand and wiping her mouth on a paper napkin with the other.
“Some people would like to talk to Celia here,” I said, “and I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen until the time is right.”
“Uncle Gordo’s?”
“He still owes me a favor or two.”
“Okay,” Twill said, hunching shoulders. “The more the merrier.”
“Don’t you even want to know why?” Celia asked Twill.
“If he’s hiding you then it must be some kinda mayhem,” Twill said easily. “That’s how LT rolls.”