Phillips stopped and stared, his mouth clamped into a thin line beneath his beard. "Davies. We were beginning to wonder if Devil Face had gotten to you."
"Devil Face?" Max asked, allowing a smile to appear on his face. He looked over at Groseclose, who had leaned back in his chair.
"According to a statement released by Assistance Unlimited, that’s the name of the lunatic who’s committing the murders," Groseclose said.
Max noticed that Melvin looked up sharply, his gaze shifting from Max to Phillips and back again. "You know about Smithson, don’t you?" he asked. "They say Devil Face killed him, too, but he didn’t mutilate him like he did the others."
Max knelt in front of Melvin and took the old man’s hands. "I did hear and I’m sorry. I know he was like a son to you."
"He was. I don’t know how I’m going to continue on without him. I’m not as young as I used to be."
Phillips growled like the animal he resembled. "I’m surprised the police don’t have us all under protection. Two of the men whose names were on that dead girl’s body have been murdered! We’re important people, damn it!"
"Smithson’s name wasn’t in the packet," Max pointed out, drawing another dangerous stare from Phillips.
"I imagine they’re planning to put us under protection," Groseclose said. "But I’m not sure that’s going to be enough. Any man who could have evaded detection for as many years as this Devil Face has… I’m not sure he’s human."
Melvin looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Just that there are a lot of awful things in this world and not all of them can be explained by men. I haven’t run half the rumors I’ve heard about Assistance Unlimited and the kinds of jobs they take on: demons, devil-worshipping cults, women who can kill men just by looking at them."
"Poppycock!" Phillips bellowed, though Max thought he saw a shadow of doubt pass over the big man’s face. "Sounds to me like you’ve been paying too much attention to Gray’s own rumor mongering. It’s all an attempt to stir up an air of mystery around the man so he can charge more for his services!"
Max stood up and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. "Do we have any sort of plan here? Or is this meeting simply to share our concerns?"
Melvin struggled to his feet. "I’m leaving town. I only came to finalize our plans for the project and I daresay that they’re on hold for now. I need to return home and inform Smithson’s family about what’s happened. I’m sure they’ve heard the news, but I want to tell them what the papers may not have."
"You can’t leave town," Groseclose said sadly. "The police want us all to stay in Sovereign. We’re persons of interest in the investigation."
Phillips stormed over to the table that sat in front of Groseclose’s chair. He plucked up the morning newspaper and stared at the front page. It showed an old photograph of Lazarus Gray and his aides, under the headline ASSISTANCE UNLIMITED HUNTS ‘DEVIL FACE’ KILLER!
"Glory hounds," Phillips whispered, his eyes lingering on the pretty face of Samantha Grace. His lips moved a few more times, as if he were continuing to mouth words, but none of the other men could hear what he said. He abruptly threw the paper back on the table and stepped back, his eyes wide. "I hope for the best for you gentlemen. I don’t plan to wait for either you or the police to come up with a scheme to protect me, however. I’ll handle that quite well on my own!"
Max put a hand on the big man’s arm, preventing him from walking toward the door. "Don’t go off half-cocked, Phillips. The last thing any of us need to do is go out and get ourselves into trouble."
Phillips glared at Max, pulling his arm free as he did so. "You will be well advised to never touch me again," he said in a menacing tone.
"I’m just trying to help," Max answered, refusing to wilt before the bigger man’s gaze. As they stared each other down, Max felt a tremor of recognition pass through him. He’d been face-to-face with Phillips before and never realized it. He’d be willing to bet his last dollar that it had been Phillips behind the Devil Face mask when they’d squared off in Hansome’s bedroom. At the same moment that Max realized whom his enemy truly was, Phillips narrowed his own eyes, having come to the same realization.
"I don’t need your help," Phillips hissed. "Just stay out of my way."
Max stared at the man’s back as he exited the room. A moment later and they all heard the loud slam of the front door.
"Just let him be," Groseclose said wearily. "He’s always been an aggressive sort and I imagine all this just makes him feel helpless. Lord knows that’s how I feel."
Max looked over at Melvin, who was still standing in place. "Do you still want to leave?"
Melvin shrugged, looking pained with every breath. "I’d love to but I don’t think it’s very wise, do you? I can’t leave the city and I don’t want to stay at the hotel. Smithson was killed there so I wouldn’t feel safe." He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before saying, "Smithson didn’t like Phillips. Said he was dangerous. He warned me not to be alone with him. But he said something very strange to me just a few hours before he died. I thought about mentioning it to that fellow from Assistance Unlimited but then thought better of it. It sounds so foolish."
"What was it?" Max did his best to avoid looking overeager.
"Smithson said that Phillips was the same kind of man as Jack the Ripper: that he looked at other people, particularly at women, as slabs of meat. Mr. Watts of Assistance Unlimited compared the killer to Jack the Ripper, too. It reminded me of what Smithson had said." Melvin looked at Max and shook his head with a sad smile. "But Phillips is a respected businessman, just like I am. We don’t do such things. Do we?"
Michael Groseclose checked his appearance for the tenth time, ensuring that his top hat was perched just so atop his head and that his gloves were tugged on to a tight fit over his hands. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was a kid playing dress up as he strode toward the front door of Assistance Unlimited. He’d never worn the mask during the daytime hours before and it all felt a little silly in the light of day.
Before he’d reached the door, Eun Jiwon and Morgan Watts were waiting to greet him. Eun stood with fists clenched at his sides and Morgan’s hand drifted close to the interior of his coat, where a gun obviously lay in wait.
The Dark Gentleman raised both hands and came to a halt. "Like I said last night, I’m on your side."
Eun raised his chin. "Then tell us why you’re wearing that mask, Mr. Groseclose."
The Dark Gentleman flinched as if struck. His hands lowered immediately and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his dismay. "You know who I am?"
"We have cameras mounted all over this entire block," Eun explained, triumph in his voice. "While you parked down the street and started changing into your getup, I was looking to see who those licensed plates belonged to. If you’re getting into the vigilante game, you need to learn the ropes."
"Damn." The Dark Gentleman shook his head, unsure how to continue past this point. He was saved the trouble when Morgan relaxed his stance and pulled the door open.
"Come on in, kid. Let’s hear your story."
Samantha Grace had been charged with the task of watching the exterior of the Groseclose home during Max’s meeting with the others. She had sat in a dark sedan across the street, listening in as the others back at Assistance Unlimited were doing. When Phillips had stormed out, she’d been forced to make a decision: should she wait where she was or should she follow the bearlike man who obviously had a temper? In the end, her female intuition told her to stick with Phillips, so she followed him at a distance as he drove back to his house. She drove past as she pulled into his driveway, circling back around the block and finally parking a few hundred feet from the front door. To her surprise, she saw that the entrance was standing wide open and that one of the potted plants just outside the steps had been overturned.