“What did you mean when you said you knew something bad would happen?” Margaret asked.
“It did, didn’t it?” Tears collected in the girl’s eyes. “The cops wanted to know what Clarissa was doing at the mall. I said she was meeting some guy and she got stood up.”
“What guy?”
Cathy’s eyes drifted. “Clarissa, she was into this game.”
“What kind’a game?” Margaret felt her heart race.
“I don’t know exactly…something about this guy…She was supposed to meet him for the first time at the mall, but he was a no-show. I bumped into her at Aubrey’s Bookstore, and then we went over to Sweet Delights. The cashier there had a surprise for the both of us. Real nerdy type, ya know? Anyway, we’re just about to leave when he hands us both a bag of fruit drops. Says we won the prizes.”
“Prizes?”
“Miss Sweet Delight and Miss Perfect Confection. I was Confection!”
Margaret smiled. Teens these days. “What happened after that?”
“We left the sweet shop and split up. I was gonna do some shopping. I needed boots. Clarissa was going home to see if the guy had left her any messages.”
“Messages?”
“On her e-mail. The guy called himself Godsend.”
Chapter 56
“Our guy is playing with fire. The DA’s daughter?” said Margaret incredulously into the car phone as she headed north on Flatbush Avenue. “The Spenser girl says Clarissa was supposed to meet a guy at the mall. He seemed to be a no-show. But how’s this for a scenario? After the Spenser girl and Clarissa split up, Clarissa does meet with Godsend. He attacks her and tries to drag her into his vehicle.”
Driscoll figured out the next step. “But she gets away and, in her panic, runs headlong into the path of the oncoming station wagon. It’s been known to happen before. Look at that hate crime in Howard Beach where a gang of whites, brandishing baseball bats, chased down a black youth. The kid ran directly into traffic on the Belt Parkway and was hit and killed by a speeding automobile. That’s a very viable theory, Margaret. Where are you headed now?”
“Over to St. Vincent’s to speak with a Doctor Stephen Astin, Clarissa’s lead physician. Any word from Moira?”
“None yet. Listen, keep me in the loop if anything else looks even remotely related to our bone thief.”
“You got it.”
Margaret parked the Plymouth on West Eleventh Street and sauntered toward the stately hospital’s visitor’s entrance. She flashed her shield at the uniformed security officer, who directed her to a bank of elevators that would carry her to the third floor. Inside the elevator, Margaret checked her watch. She’d be right on time for her meeting with Doctor Astin. At the third floor, the elevator doors opened. Margaret stepped off and headed down the corridor in search of room 335, the doctor’s office. Finding it, she stepped inside. A nattily dressed gentleman who spoke in a soft, effeminate voice was conversing with a strikingly handsome man clad in a dark blue suit that would have rivaled any one of Lieutenant Driscoll’s. Hickey Freeman or Hart Schaffner amp; Marx came to mind. Margaret read the handsome man’s nameplate: COLM F. PIERCE, M.D., CHIEF OF RADIOLOGY. The softspoken gent told Doctor Pierce he would relay his message to Doctor Astin word for word, then turned his attention to Margaret.
“You must be Sergeant Aligante,” he said.
“Yes. I have an appointment with Doctor Astin.”
“I know. I’m Bartholomew Wiggins, Doctor Astin’s assistant. He told me to expect you. And you’re right on time,” he noted, checking his watch. “The good doctor offers his apologies, though. He was called into surgery not ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You may wait for him here if you’d like, or, if you wish, you can visit Chez Francois. That’s our cafeteria.”
“I could use a bite to eat.”
“It’s well worth the trip,” said Doctor Pierce. “The place is on a par with Four Seasons,” he added, dead-pan. “Their tuna melt has just become the eighth cardinal sin. Would you like company?” he added, mindful of his promise to his badgering parents concerning the police; instead of them being all over him, he’d find a way to be all over them. He’d begin by turning on the charm.
Margaret hesitated, casting a curious stare at Pierce, who returned the stare with a smile.
“Why not?” she said daringly. “Lead the way.”
“I recommend the meat loaf du jour,” the counterman said to Margaret.
“Howard, this lady deserves your tuna melt,” said Pierce. “It’s actually my recipe. I like to give Howard the credit,” he whispered to Margaret as he selected an apple from a display of fresh fruit.
“Let me guess. You moonlight as the hospital’s nutritionist,” said Margaret.
“No. The position was filled. I had to settle for radiology.”
“Maybe you should put your name on the list. You never know when there might be an opening.”
The suggestion brought a smile to Pierce’s lips. But he soon got back to business. “So you’re the police officer making inquiry into the death of the Parsons girl?”
“In fact, I am,” she said, helping herself to a cup of coffee. “How did you know that?”
“Hospitals are like small towns, where news travels at lightning speed. Put it on my account, Howard,” he said, gesturing to the attendant.
“Does the radiology department buy lunch for all the visitors?”
“My horoscope suggested I make a new friend.”
“Let me guess, Sagittarius?” Margaret ventured.
“Perish the thought! I’m the model Aquarian.”
Pierce escorted Margaret to a corner table, where a window overlooked the city’s skyline.
“I’ve never met a radiologist before. Tell me, are you all such food connoisseurs?” asked Margaret.
“No. Just me,” he said.
Margaret bit into her sandwich, amused. It was an generous fusion of tuna, mayonnaise, and Jarlsberg cheese.
“Well?” Pierce asked.
“For a hospital cafeteria, not bad. I’ll give it a six.”
“We haven’t discussed dessert. At La Patisserie. Over on Twenty-third?”
“Tell me, do you hit on all the visitors?”
“Can’t fault a guy for following his horoscope. Libra? Right? Let’s see if the stars will make an exception for you today.” He walked over to a newspaper rack, returned with a New York Post, and turned to the horoscope page. He read aloud, “Throw caution to the wind. You deserve a break. There’s always time to get back to your responsible life. Indulge yourself and enjoy invitations that might arise.”
“Does it really say that?”
“You disbeliever.” He handed her the paper.
There it was, in black and white, but how did he guess my sign? she wondered.
“But I am sympathetic, for as a true Catholic, and I assume you are, what with a saint’s name and all, this must be heresy,” he said.
“I’ll burn in hell for sure, and all my bones will be scattered.”
“Oh, what a loss.”
Chapter 57
Godsend may be safe. But, was he? Just how tenacious was this computer-savvy intruder? There was much to do to cover his tracks.
Catherine,
You have located me in the infernal web. Hail to you, the champion! You have ferreted me out of my dingy warren. I am now out in the light. And for you and you alone, will make myself visible. You among mortals will be privy to the face that has done the dastardly deeds. Before the Centurions in Blue handcuff my spirit and parade me in chains along my Via Dolorosa to some downtown precinct and then to some court of law, where I will be crucified for all my victims’ parents to see, I will manifest myself to you, and you alone, my dear one. I will appear at exactly 10:00 A.M. tomorrow at Toys R Us near the Kings Plaza Shopping Mall in Brooklyn. I will be in aisle three, Magicians’ Supplies. I’ll be holding a wand in my hand. I will appear to you, the Victor, only for an instant, but long enough. I trust you are a lady of character, ruled by an exacting code of chivalry. I expect you to be honorable in your dedication and not alert the civil authorities as to our secret rendezvous. If you fulfill this first obligation, in due time I will surrender myself to you, and the city will lionize you for your great deed. You will make history as the insightful beauty who tamed the savage beast.