I waved my half-eaten peach at him. “So he created the portal, with the zombies, and sent it to the police, knowing it would go into the files. Then, if the police started getting close, he could just release his zombies-”
“Who could destroy the evidence,” Jaime said. “The ultimate inside job.”
“Only the police never did get close, so he emigrates to Canada. At some point, his son or grandson, Theodore Shanahan, hires a local thief to get the letter back.”
“Yes,” Jeremy said. “It makes sense, but there are too many-”
“Creative jumps and leaps of faith,” I finished. “I know. Regardless of how the portal could have been created, Patrick Shanahan is the best, if not the only possible, zombie controller.”
“If there is a controller,” Clay said. “But no harm hunting the guy down.”
“That part you don’t mind,” I said, grinning as I gave him half my handful of blueberries. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t hightailed it to parts unknown.”
“Can’t,” Jaime said. “When the zombies are resurrected at the portal, they return to him. Like homing pigeons. So the controller has to stay close by.”
“There’s our plan, then,” I said. “We find one of the zombies, then kill him, and someone waits at the portal to follow him back to his controller.”
Rats
KILL A ZOMBIE, THEN FOLLOW HIM OR HER BACK TO THE controller. Sounded simple enough. Or it would be, once we found a zombie to kill.
Jeremy decided we’d wait until nightfall, then return to the warehouse district where we’d found Rose. She’d obviously been comfortable there, so she might return. Even if we couldn’t find a zombie, we were pretty sure one would eventually find me.
In the meantime, Jeremy and Antonio would return to Shanahan’s house, this time searching for clues not about the letter, but about Shanahan’s current whereabouts. Clay, Nick and I would visit the person most likely to have had contact with Shanahan-his secretary.
While Antonio and Nick checked in and unpacked, I helped Jaime do the same. She’d already booked a room, but it was two floors from ours, so Jeremy insisted she switch to the same floor. Changing rooms was easy enough-with the cholera outbreak, the concierge told us half of their reservations had been canceled, and a lot of current guests had decided to cut their visit short.
Clay brought Jaime’s luggage over from our room, then left us to unpack. Or he pretended to leave, though I knew he’d stay close, probably in the hallway.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Jaime wilted against the wall.
“Made a complete jackass of myself, didn’t I?” she said.
“What do you mean?” I said as I stooped to unzip her suitcase.
“I’ll get that,” she said. “Sounds like you’ll have a busy day. Sit while you can.”
When I hesitated, she took the suitcase and shooed me to the bed.
“I do want to do a Toronto show,” she said as she took out her toiletry bag. “I wasn’t making that up.”
“I never-”
She slanted a look my way. “Come on. I show up with some lame story about wanting to check out show venues, and the first thing you all thought was ‘Yeah, right.’ But it’s true. I plan to do a winter appearance, and I need to check out places. I thought this would be a good time to do that if it means I can help you guys with this. Help all of you.” Another quick look at me. “Not just Jeremy.”
“I don’t think you showed up because of Jeremy.”
“Well, that makes one of us.” She sighed and hung a dress in the closet. “I do want to help, but if it had been someone else? Would I have been on that plane so fast?” She shook her head and took a shirt from her suitcase. “I’m trying to get past it. It’s embarrassing.”
“Being attracted to someone isn’t a cause for embarrassment.”
She gave me a look. “Tripping over my feet every time I see him? Tripping over my tongue every time I talk to him? For three years? With no sign that he’s the least bit interested in return?”
“With Jeremy-”
“I can’t expect the usual signs, I know. But he has to know how I feel. Hell, everybody else does.”
“If you’d let me ask-”
She waved her hands frantically. “Oh, God. Stop suggesting it or I’m liable to break down and say ‘Go ahead.’ Can you imagine? It’s like in fifth grade, getting your friend to pass a guy a note asking if he likes you.”
“It wouldn’t be-”
She met my gaze. “Please, don’t. I’m not being coy, pretending I don’t want you to when really I’m hoping you’ll go ahead and do it. Two years ago, maybe I would have. But now…” She dropped her gaze to the shirt in her hands, refolding it. “I’m starting to feel like, maybe, Jeremy and I, you know, can still be friends. As cliché as that sounds, it’s not so bad.”
She took a deep breath, then firmly shook her head and hung up the shirt. “Once I get past that schoolgirl-flustered stage when I first see him, I’m okay, and I can talk to him. Better yet, he listens.” A small smile. “Even talks in return sometimes.”
“That’s a good sign. Listening Jeremy’s good at. Talking? Not if it’s remotely personal.”
“I know. And the stuff I can talk to him about…” When she grabbed a handful of shirts, her fingers were trembling slightly. “It’s not stuff I normally talk about. I don’t feel I have to be…I don’t know, my showbiz self.” She flashed a smile my way. “Who knows, maybe someday I’ll even change his mind. Until then, though, it’s good.”
I wished I could help. I really did. Two years ago, I hadn’t been quick to encourage her. I’d liked Jaime well enough, but she didn’t seem a good match for Jeremy. I still wasn’t sure that she was, but I now thought she deserved the chance to find out.
After Jaime finished unpacking, she took off to investigate potential venues for a future show. Clay, Nick and I got ready for our trip to Shanahan’s office. While his administrative assistant wouldn’t tell strangers where he was hiding, he or she might be persuaded to divulge a few details to a pair of urban professionals about to have their first baby and looking to make a very large investment to safeguard their child’s future.
“I’ll play husband and daddy-to-be,” Nick said as we walked into the room.
“Yeah?” Clay said. “Well, not to complicate things, but how about the real husband and daddy-to-be plays the husband and daddy-to-be?”
“Won’t work. You don’t look the part. You look like the actor hired to play the part.”
Clay made a rude noise and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand.
I turned to Clay. “Since when do you ever want to playact anyway? If you do, then fine, but if you’re just complaining for-”
“Go ahead,” Clay said. “Though I don’t see how he looks any more like your husband than I do.”
“He doesn’t. But if we’re about to have our first baby and going to Shanahan for investment advice, we have to look and act like urban professionals. Nick does. I can. You…can’t. And you’d hate trying. So let’s stop arguing. We still need to do a quick bit of shopping. I only have two sets of clothes, and neither screams prospective investment banker client.” I picked up my sunglasses, then glanced back at Clay. “Oh, and speaking of disguises, remember to lend Nick your ring.”
“Should I wear it?” Nick said. “If I’m wearing a wedding band and you’re not, won’t that look-”
His gaze went to my hand and he stopped, then grabbed it and lifted the ring finger, complete with both engagement and wedding ring. I’d worn the engagement ring on and off for years, and “on” for the past five, a sign to Clay that I was staying.
As for the wedding bands, while he’d worn his for fifteen years, to show that he considered himself married-whether I agreed or not-my own had stayed in the original case.