“Meantime she’s also running around out there.”
“For now, yes.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Me neither, sir. But I don’t see how else to locate her.”
Mallick didn’t reply.
“Sir? Is there something I need to know?”
“Such as?”
“Do you have an idea who she might be?”
The mood in the car shifted as Mallick drew up, smiling thinly. “Is that a joke, Detective?”
“You seem more concerned about her than Pernath, is what I mean.”
“Certainly I’m focused on her. She calls in Florack and disappears? Far as I’m concerned, that’s probative.”
“True, sir, but even if she did do Florack, I think Pernath’s running the show, just as he was with Florack and Heap. Get him, kill the cancer.”
“This investigation is about the murder at Castle Court,” Mallick said. He leaned forward, his head grazing the felt of the ceiling, and Jacob could feel his breath, cold and odorless. “That was your assignment. That makes her the priority. I appreciate your creative thinking, and I’m willing to adopt your strategy and wait it out. Lest there be any confusion, though, let me reiterate: she is our primary target. Not Pernath. Do you understand?”
Jacob said, “Ten-four, sir.”
“Another thing. I want updates.”
“A hundred percent, sir. I’m giving you one right now.”
Mallick shook his head. “I want more. And I want it more often. From this point on, you’re going to inform me on an hourly basis where you are and what you’re doing.”
Jacob chuffed. “Come on.”
“You’re really that close?”
“I think I am, but—”
“Then loop me in.”
“Sir. It’s tough to operate like that.”
“You’ll figure it out. Text me. E-mail me. Call. Set an alarm, if you need to. I don’t care. I certainly don’t want you moving on either of them, Pernath or the woman, without us there to support you. Understood?”
Jacob turned to look out the window at nudie bars and off-site airport parking. They’d gone no more than a mile down Century. He felt angry and jumpy; eager to throw open the door and walk.
Mallick said, “You haven’t told me about Prague.”
“I thought I covered everything, sir.”
“Not the case,” Mallick said. “The city.”
“What about it, sir?”
“Anything. General impressions.”
Jacob said, “It was pretty good, I guess, sir.”
“We send you on an all-expense-paid European vacation and that’s it? ‘Pretty good’?”
“I’m very grateful for the opportunity, sir.”
“I hope you had a chance to do some sightseeing.”
“Some,” Jacob said.
“How did you find that?”
“Pretty good, sir. Thank you, once again.”
A silence.
“I haven’t been to Prague in years,” Mallick said.
Jacob looked at him. “I wasn’t aware that you’d been at all, sir.”
Mallick nodded.
The rest of the trip dragged on in tight silence. Finally, Schott pulled over outside Jacob’s building, leaving the motor running.
“Keep me apprised,” Mallick said.
Subach carried Jacob’s bag, setting it down outside the door to the apartment.
“Do I tip you now, or when the case is closed?” Jacob asked.
Subach smiled. “Don’t worry about the Commander. Times like these, he gets nervous.”
“Times like what,” Jacob said.
“You need help with this Pernath guy, let us know. We’ll get you what you need.”
“Mel? Can I ask you something? You ever been to Prague?”
Subach chuckled. “As it so happens, I have.”
“What about Schott?”
“I think he might’ve said something about that once or twice.”
“I never knew cops to be such a well-traveled bunch,” Jacob said. “We should start a club. Get together. Do slide shows.”
Subach patted him on the shoulder and lumbered back down to the idling car.
Chapter fifty-one
Jacob’s apartment was dusty but otherwise exactly as he’d left it. He’d entertained the foolish thought that his physical world would reflect the changes in him, and now he didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.
He dumped his bag and showered and shaved. It was clear why Mallick had commented on his lip: the affected area was one shade darker than the surrounding flesh. It looked like a strong vein, or a faint tattoo, a tiny part of him that wasn’t him. The impulse to peel the offending strip away was strong. He tried to work loose a tag and ended up bleeding.
Pressing a tissue to his mouth, he rummaged in his nightstand and came up with a mostly new ChapStick left by a long-ago one-night stand. Balmed, his lips felt bland and greasy, a sensation that turned his stomach.
He had a bourbon to steady his nerves, then called Divya Das, getting her voicemail.
“Hey. I’m back and I’ve got a present for you. It’s not a commemorative shot glass. Drop by?”
He sent Mallick a one-word text — unpacking — and spent an hour organizing his findings and updating the murder book. At eight p.m., with no word from Divya, he left her another message, and texted Mallick that he was headed out for dinner.
Henry the convenience store clerk saw him and made hallelujah hands. “I was starting to get worried. I was gonna call the cops.”
“I am the cops.”
Updates the Commander wanted? Updates he’d get. Jacob sent step-by-step texts.
two premium quality all-beef frankfurters
relish
onions
jalapenos
ketchup
mustard
Henry rang him up. “Don’t ask me to kiss you.”
“Dream on.”
The white credit card didn’t work.
Walking home, Jacob answered a call from Detective Aaron Flores, who proudly announced that he had persuaded the events manager at the Venetian to dig into the old Outlook calendar. Bingo: the week of Dani Forrester’s death, the North American Architectural Design and Drafting Society had occupied the Delfino Ballroom, on level four.
“I asked about the names you gave me,” Flores said. “I didn’t find anything, and I can’t tell from the file if she met with any of them.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What’d the other Ds say?”
Jacob recapped Maria Band’s report. “New York and New Orleans I haven’t heard from yet. Doesn’t matter. Between her and you, it’s enough for me to feel confident closing the noose.”
“Excellent,” Flores said. “Make it tight.”
“Appreciate the help,” Jacob said. He turned onto his block. “I’ll be sure you get the credit you deserve.”
“I’m not worried about credit. I’m worried about nailing the motherfucker.”
A county Coroner’s van was parked outside his building.
“Same here,” Jacob said. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll keep you posted.”
A young woman with red hair out of a box sat at the wheel, deep into her smartphone. Jacob rapped the glass and she jumped in her seat.
She buzzed the window down. “Damn,” she said. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Detective Lev,” he said. “Can I help you?”
She stared at his glossy lips. He folded them in. “Can I help you,” he said again.
She snapped to. “You have something for me.”
“I do?”
“That’s what they told me.” She handed him her ID: Molly Naismith, coroner investigator trainee.
“I called Dr. Das,” he said.
“Well, you got me.”
“Is she unavailable?”
“Not my wheelhouse,” she said. “You got a problem, call the main line.”