“You said it was a statue… of what?”
“An ancient deity, one whose name has been lost to the mists of time.”
McKenzie was sitting back now, having put away his gun. His eyes were bright and shining. “If it’s cursed, why does your boss want it? What powers does he think it has?”
Bane seemed surprised to hear those words but he nodded slowly. “You are a very bright man. The object is not merely valuable for its monetary worth. It is said that the god still speaks through this artifact. Its whisperings can drive men mad, force them to do unspeakable things… but it can also impart incredible wisdom. It tells of secrets lost to humanity, of strange creatures who dance insanely at the center of creation… and of the ultimate dark fate that awaits our world.”
“Who killed Walter?” Violet demanded. “It wasn’t some passing tough, was it? He was killed specifically for this statue?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. But it seems very likely that his death was directly related to The Damned Thing. The last communication my employer received from Mr. Cambridge mentioned that he had come into possession of the statuette.”
McKenzie spoke up before Violet could ask her next question. “What did you call it? Damned?”
Bane sighed, obviously having shared too much. “The Damned Thing. That is what it is called.”
“Sounds charming.” McKenzie glanced over at Violet. “This gives new light to what I told you about this morning. About Miles and the tattoo.”
Violet nodded, feeling strangely betrayed. It wasn’t because of Walter, certainly. He hadn’t always shared details about his work with her and it had been Miles, not Walter, who had concocted the cock and bull story about it being a missing person’s case. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
“What is it?” McKenzie asked. Bane, too, looked concerned.
“Maybe that’s why Miles wanted to handle this case himself. He volunteered to tail Morehouse while I was at the premiere. Maybe he knew that Morehouse or Whitehead was involved with The Damned Thing and he remembered that Walter had died because of it…”
“You think he was trying to protect you?”
“It’s possible.”
Bane stood up, pausing when McKenzie made to draw his gun again. “I’m sorry… but unless there is some reason why I should be detained, I would like to leave and contact my employer.”
“I’d like to know his name,” McKenzie responded. “And don’t tell me I don’t have a right to know. You just told me that a man was killed four years ago over this object your boss wants to acquire… and another man was killed last night over the same damned thing. Now I’ll run you down to the station and make you talk if I have to.”
Bane looked alarmed and quickly raised his hands in supplication. “Please! There is no need for this! I have done nothing illegal. I have told you what you wanted to know — more, perhaps, than I should have!”
“There’s still more you could share.”
Bane’s eyes bulged in horror and then he bolted, running like a deer towards the front door. Violet jumped from the couch, landing on his back with all her weight. He buckled under the sudden load and fell to his knees, Violet’s arms wrapped about his neck. She shoved him away when it was clear he wasn’t getting away and followed this by delivering a swift kick to his stomach. He heaved in pain, clutching at his wounded area.
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” McKenzie whispered.
Violet ignored him. She grabbed Bane by his slick hair and yanked his head up. “How can I get in contact with your boss? Tell me or I swear to heaven you’ll regret it.”
Bane whimpered like a small child. “I can do that. Please! Just let me go!”
Violet released her grip on him and stepped back. Bane sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his coat sleeve. He stood up and looked at her from beneath his brows, his eyes red and moist. “His name is Johann Burkard. He is coming to Atlanta in the next few days. I can arrange for you to meet him then.”
“And where are you staying?”
“The Clarion Hotel.”
Violet took out one of her cards and passed it to him. “Call me when you’ve set something up. If I don’t hear from you — and I mean soon—I’ll hunt you down and castrate you. Understand?”
Bane swallowed hard, obviously believing her. “I swear it.”
“Then get your ass out of here.”
Bane hurried out, nearly dropping his hat in the process.
McKenzie holstered his gun and looked around. “Want to keep waiting?”
“No. I’m going to take a break for a while. This has been really emotional for me.”
“You’re not going to go off and do something stupid are you?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
Violet offered McKenzie a cool, emotionless smile. “I’m not a stupid girl, Will. I’ll call you later on. Maybe we can visit The Topaz Club together. I’m betting somebody there will tell us where we can find Morehouse and his dame.”
“Sounds fair. And I’ll station a man outside here. Have them call me if Morehouse comes back home.” McKenzie reached for her and Violet allowed him to pull her close. “All of this… it scares me, angel. A pentagram, occult statues, people having their faces peeled off… this isn’t one of your usual cases. How about you let me handle this one? Maybe you could go away for a little while and try to get your balance back.”
“I have to be here to handle the funeral for Miles. He didn’t have any family.”
“I can do that.”
Violet kissed his cheek before moving to leave. “You’re sweet, Will. I’ll give you a call.”
VIOLET SAT AT her favorite bar, nursing the strongest drink in the house. The bartender, a portly Jew named Albert, had quickly figured out that Violet was in no mood to talk today. After giving his condolences about Miles, Albert had resumed talking to the other patrons. There weren’t many at this hour of the day — mostly hardcore drunks, the unemployed and a few tourists who hadn’t yet left after the Gone With The Wind madness.
Strange thoughts kept running through her mind. Her carefully crafted lie of a life had been laid bare and she wasn’t sure how to feel. She still loved Miles like a brother or an uncle but the thought that he’d lied to her for years ate away at her spirit. And poor Walter… if she’d known he’d died because of some stupid statue, she wouldn’t have rested until his killer had been caught.
“May I sit down?”
Violet froze in place, the rim of her glass touching her lips. Without looking at the person who spoke, she finished her sip and set her glass back down on the counter. “Come to tell me some more lies?”
Abby Whitehead slid onto the stool next to Violet’s, her green eyes downcast. She wore a red dress that emphasized her figure and which complemented her eyes perfectly. “I deserve that. I know I do. But you don’t understand.”
“I understand that my partner ended up dead after taking your case… and that you lied to us about your sister’s involvement with Morehouse. In fact, you lied about having a sister at all. You’re the one who gets her kicks by taking off her clothes and being tied up. Isn’t that right?”
A few men in the bar glanced over at this, having overheard Violet’s words. Abby blushed considerably and for a moment Violet almost regretted embarrassing her. The girl’s ability to project an illusion of chastity was that good.