“It means your brother is dead,” Alex said. “I’m sorry.”
Evelyn swayed and Alex had to grab her before she fell.
“I’m sorry,” she said, clinging to his shirt. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she rubbed furiously at her eyes, smearing her mascara. “I knew he was gone, I…I just didn’t want to believe it.”
She stepped away from him, but her knees buckled, and Alex had to grab her again.
“You’d better lie down,” he said, leading her over to the neat bed in the corner. Once he had her situated, he went to the cupboard over the sink and searched until he found a clean washrag. After running some cold water on it, he wrung it out and folded it, placing it on Evelyn’s forehead.
“Now lie there until you feel better,” he said.
She thanked him and he returned to Thomas’ notebook. The next time Alex looked up, the clock on the wall told him it was eleven twenty-two. He’d been sitting on the stool behind the workbench reading, re-reading, and re-re-reading Thomas’ quest to solve the Archimedean Monograph’s finding rune. Alex could see what Thomas had been trying to do and scribbled copious notes under and around the ones Thomas had made. It seemed to Alex that Thomas had been on the right track, but just hadn’t possessed the knowledge or skill to fully unscramble the rune.
He checked on Evelyn and found her asleep on the bed. Taking the opportunity of not being watched, Alex chalked a door onto a bare patch of wall and opened his vault. Normally he’d never open his vault in front of someone other than Iggy or Leslie, but he wanted to get his kit and have a more thorough look around Thomas’ workshop. An hour later, Alex called it quits.
The lab was just as clean as it appeared in normal light. Silverlight revealed plenty of fingerprints and signs that the workshop was used regularly, but there was no sign of blood, and no indication that anything other than sleeping had ever happened in the bed. Some of the books were more used than others, but none of them contained hidden compartments or scraps of paper.
All was as it should be.
Finally Alex pulled out his ghostlight burner and lit it. He’d been avoiding this moment, but with Evelyn asleep he’d best do it now. The multi-lamp cast its greenish glow around the room until it fell on the back wall. There, reaching out from where Alex stood and running up the wall, was the shadow of a man. It ran over the bookshelf and the little kitchen counter with the hotplate. The form showed a man with his hands thrown up over his face, as if shielding his eyes from a flash bulb he hadn’t seen coming.
It was all that remained of Thomas Rockwell.
Alex put his hand on his forehead and pinched it. He’d been without food, liquor, or a cigarette in quite a while and it had given him a pounding headache. The beam of his lantern fell across Evelyn’s sleeping form as he lifted it to extinguish the ghostlight burner. She stirred and Alex quickly blew out the flame. The light no longer illuminated her, but he could still see her in his mind. Even disheveled, with her makeup a mess, she was beautiful.
He sighed and returned the gear to his bag. A small wooden box was tucked into one end of the bag and Alex withdrew it, setting it on the workbench quietly. Inside was a flask with a nice single malt scotch that he’d pilfered from Iggy’s liquor cabinet. Usually this was his reward for a case solved and a job well done, but in this case, he’d make an exception. Evelyn wanted her brother found, and he’d done that. She wanted to know who killed him, and he knew that now, too. Whoever the mysterious Becky was, she’d brought Thomas the Monograph pages. She set his feet on the path that ultimately lead to his death.
Removing the cup from the top, Alex opened the flask and poured out two fingers of the amber liquid.
Becky had torn Thomas’ place apart looking for his notebook. She wanted to see how he’d attempted to solve the rune, maybe use the notes to entice the next patsy she conned into looking for the Monograph. It was the only thing she could have been looking for. Thomas copied the original Monograph pages into his lore book, and they weren’t here in the workshop, so Becky must still have them.
“She’s miles away by now,” he said, draining the tiny tin cup and refilling it from the flask.
“Who?” Evelyn’s voice drifted to him out of the semi-darkness. He’d turned off some of the lights when he’d used his lamp in order to see better. Evelyn sat up on the bed and brushed her raven hair out of her face. She looked frightened for a moment, her tired mind not recognizing her surroundings for a moment, then she stood and walked to where Alex sat at the workbench.
“Can I have one of those?” she said, pointing at the tin cup.
Alex nodded and stood, offering her the stool. She sat and he went to the cupboards over the table that had the hot plate, returning a moment later with a glass. He set it next to his tin cup and poured whiskey in both.
Evelyn drained hers in one go, then tapped the glass with her finger. Alex refilled it and she drained it again.
“You’re behind,” she said, indicating the tin cup. Alex refilled her glass again, then raised his cup.
“To Thomas,” he said.
She smiled a grateful smile and they both drank.
“You’ve been wonderful,” she said, putting her glass back, upside-down. “Thank you.”
Alex poured himself another whisky and sipped at it, nursing it. “I still haven’t found the person responsible for Thomas’ death,” he said, picking up the notebook. “But this is what she wanted. I might be able to use it as bait to lure her out, but I suspect she’s headed for the hills.”
“You mean the girlfriend,” Evelyn said, and Alex nodded. She looked away. “If she wants the notebook so bad,” she said, her voice hard, “I want you to burn it.”
“If that’s what you want,” Alex said, finishing his drink. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“I just want all this to be over,” she said in a small voice. She wobbled on her feet and Alex put his arm around her waist to steady her. She buried her face in his chest.
She felt good in his arms.
He looked down at her and she raised up, pressing her lips to his. It wasn’t a chaste peck or a gesture of gratitude but a fiery, pulsating need. She needed to feel alive, needed to be held. Alex pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together. He didn’t know if he’d initiated the kiss or if she’d done it. All he knew was that it felt right and she tasted sweet. A minute later he bent down and picked her up, carrying her toward the bed. He was sure she’d tell him to stop before he reached it, but she didn’t.
16
The Broker
Iggy was sitting in the kitchen with a coffee cup in one hand and the pot in the other when Alex got home. The old man looked exhausted, but at least he wasn’t coming in after sunup smelling of Scotch, silverlight oil, and perfume. When Iggy caught sight of him, he raised an eyebrow.
“And just where have you been?” he said. The eyebrows went up further when Alex got closer. “That’s a lovely shade of lipstick on your collar,” he added.
Alex said nothing.
“At least you don’t smell like a brothel; that’s expensive perfume. Did you keep the Sorceress company last night?”
“God, no,” Alex said, offended that his friend would even suspect such a thing. Sorsha was beautiful, no question, but she seemed to have a healthy dislike for him. “I don’t have a death wish,” he declared. “Can you imagine what that woman could do to a man who sent her packing? Or God forbid, broke her heart.”
“Planning on sending your companion of last night packing?” Iggy said. “You seem to think that’s where all relationships end up.”
Alex grimaced. He had his opinions about the entangling proprieties of relationships, and he didn’t like Iggy’s desire to discuss them.