Jack circled the park a dozen times, smoking cigarettes, trying to get even a tiny grip on his life.
Grinding his last cigarette beneath his shoe, Jack got back in the Monte Carlo. He had come to the conclusion that neither Sam nor the isolation of the square was a sufficient buffer against the war that raged out of control inside him. But there was someone who might rake away the pain that was killing his soul.
Yet as he drove to the luxury condominium where she lived, he heard a tiny voice rejecting his plea for sympathy. You’ll have to do it alone, it taunted. You must accept what’s been done. Willie’s gone. Willie’s never coming back home from playing in the dark…
Eileen McKenna, the most exclusive call girl in Houston, luxuriated in an enormous black marble bathtub playing with heaps of bubbles. She was tired, but not overly so. The bath was to prepare her for sleep. The most strenuous part of her workday was over, and the councilman snored softly just beyond the bathroom door. She had been instructed to wake him after her bath was completed. He could not be seen slipping out of the building in the morning wearing the same suit he had worn the day before. His wife did not give a tinker’s damn, but his reputation demanded he not be caught in even vaguely compromising circumstances.
While Eileen soaked, Tobias, her Angora cat, sat atop the black marble vanity licking the fur beneath a hind leg. As Eileen raised the drain lever and started to lift herself from the tub, the doorbell rang. Once, twice, three times. Tobias spat and ruffled his hair. Eileen grabbed a terry cloth robe and shrugged into it. As she passed the bed, she saw the councilman sitting up in surprise, his lips working idiotically.
“It’s all right,” she soothed, her voice honeyed and calm. “I’ll close the door.”
Shooing the cat before her, she pulled the door to firmly and crossed the living area. The doorbell was much too loud. She needed to do something about that.
She opened the door with the safety chain still in place. In the hall stood a wild-eyed Jack DeShane.
“My god, Jack, what’s happened?” Eileen closed the door before he could answer and unfastened the chain.
She opened the door wide.
Jack walked into her arms and smothered his face in her hair. “Eileen, I need help.”
Eileen was stunned. “Come and sit down.” She closed the door and led him to the sofa. Only then did she remember the councilman in her bedroom.
“Jack, I have someone here.” Her voice trailed away.
Jack turned his head and covered his eyes with one hand in a gesture of great weariness.
Never before had he come to her unannounced and in such a state. It had to be important. Had he been dismissed from the force?
“Wait. I’ll get him out and we can talk.”
When Eileen entered the bedroom, the councilman was already dressed and patting his pockets to be sure he had everything. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is an unusual occurrence. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Scared the hell out of me, that’s all. Who is he? Anyone I know?”
“No, and I doubt he knows you either,” she lied.
“Then I’m going.” Moved by a gentle impulse, he touched her cheek in passing, and his eyes said she was forgiven. He walked past the sofa without looking over and let himself out.
Eileen sighed and locked the door after him. “Jack, you look awful. What can I do?”
She sank onto the sofa beside him and took his hand. For an interminable time they sat that way without speaking. Eileen watched him as he fought with whatever it was he had to say. Finally, after he attempted to speak twice, Eileen wrapped her arms around his trembling body. She kissed each eyelid in turn, his cheeks, his forehead, his lips and chin and neck. She felt his pain and wished she could take it from him. Jake was not a customer. Jack was someone who made her heart sing, though she wasn’t sure he knew it.
She tasted his tears and pressed him close to her breasts, hoping somehow to impart all the love she felt for him, hoping to ease his suffering.
Finally Jack spoke. “Willie was murdered last night,” he said. “My son has been killed.”
“Willie was killed,” Sam said.
Maggie Richler brushed back a thatch of hair from her face. She was not fully awake and the pleasant dream she had been having still lingered in her mind. Sam’s words had not sunk in.
“Sam, have you been drinking over there with Jack?”
“For once I’m sober, Maggie. Jack and I waited all evening for Willie to come home, and when he didn’t we went cruising the neighborhood tying to find him. There were sirens and we followed them to Pearce Street. It was Willie.”
Maggie’s eyes grew wide as she listened to Sam. He was speaking distinctly and he did not sway on his feet. “Oh, Sam, no. Not Willie.”
Sam sat down beside her on the bed. “It gets worse.”
“It couldn’t be any worse. That poor man. Willie’s all he had. They were devoted to one another.”
“I can’t tell you how bad it is, Maggie, because the investigation was still continuing when I brought Jack back to the house. And besides, I don’t want to worry you. But when I’m out of the house from now on, I want you to keep the doors and windows locked. I also want you to keep this on your night table.”
Sam reached into the waist of his pants and withdrew a .38 caliber pistol. “I loaded it so be careful.”
“A gun, Sam?” Maggie gave a short laugh. “What’s gotten into you? I don’t want any of your guns around me.”
He placed it on her table, and when he looked into her eyes, Maggie felt suddenly chilled. She crossed her bare arms and stroked them.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Do you think the killer is around here somewhere? Is he another crazy or what?”
“He’s definitely a crazy. You’ll know that when you hear the news. The son of a bitch is out of his mind.”
“Well, anyone who would kill a child… Poor Jack, this is terrible. Willie was such a cute little boy.”
The image of Willie’s headless corpse filled Sam’s mind. “I have to go find Jack,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave you without some form of protection. Nobody can guess how a killer like this works. He might be on a rampage. He might do all his killing in one night. I wanted you to be warned.”
Maggie glanced over at the ugly weapon lying on her night table and a small shudder ran through her.
“Have you been with Jack all night? Where is he now?”
“An ambulance attendant had to sedate him at the scene. I brought him home and put him to bed, but when I dozed off myself, he left the house.”
“Do you know where he went?” Maggie’s concern made her frown fiercely.
“I have a good idea. I just want to make sure for my own peace of mind. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
Maggie unfolded her arms and hugged Sam close. He smelled of the fresh night air, but he also smelled of bourbon.
He stood and went to the bedroom door. “I’ll lock the front on my way out. You should get up and check the windows, Maggie.”
“I will, honey. You go find Jack. He shouldn’t be alone and grieving after this.” And under her breath she added, “The poor man.”
Sam took Maggie’s car keys from his pocket and strode to her Plymouth. He turned in the direction of downtown and headed for the on ramp of I-10. He had sounded confident of Jack’s whereabouts to Maggie, but he was not at all sure that he would find him. Sam knew all about Eileen McKenna. You could not be a cop in Houston without knowing her name. Eileen went unmolested for several reasons. She was not on the street peddling, handing out diseases to her customers. She was cautious, closemouthed, and classy. She did not gossip and brag about her clientele, she did not work under a madam, and she kept her business strictly to herself. If she had been less beautiful she might have had more trouble. But even lawmen kneeled before beauty.