Thoughtfully, he shut down his laptop. Falkoner had come from New York and Pendergast was living in New York. Were they in league? Pendergast sure as hell wasn’t in Malfourche on official business, not with blowing up a bar and sinking a bunch of boats on his agenda. And this NYPD captain… New York City cops had a reputation for corruption and for being involved in the drug trade. He started to see the big picture: the Mississippi River, the burned-out lab in the swamp, the New York connection, the brutal and execution-style killing of the Brodies, corrupt law enforcement…
Damn if this wasn’t about a major drug operation.
That did it: he was going to New York. He plucked his cell phone from his pocket, dialed.
“ Ezerville Bee,” came a shrill voice. “Janine speaking.”
“Janine, it’s Ned.”
“Ned! How’s the vacation going?”
“Educational, thanks.”
“Are you going to be back at work tomorrow? Mr. Kranston needs somebody to cover the rib-eating contest over at the—”
“Sorry, Janine, I’m going to extend my vacation by a couple of days.”
A pause. “Well, when are you coming back?”
“Not sure. Maybe three days, maybe four. I’ll let you know. I still have a week coming to me.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure Mr. Kranston sees it that way…” Her voice trailed off.
“See you.” Betterton snapped the phone shut before she could say anything more.
CHAPTER 48
New York City
JUDSON ESTERHAZY — IN HIS ROLE AS DR. ERNEST POOLE — walked briskly down the corridor of Mount Mercy Hospital, Felder at his side. They were following a Dr. Ostrom, director of the hospital, who seemed polite, discreet, and extremely professionaclass="underline" excellent qualities for a man in his position.
“I believe you shall find this morning’s consultation to be most interesting,” Esterhazy told Ostrom. “As I’ve explained to Dr. Felder, the chances of her manifesting selective amnesia regarding any knowledge of me are high.”
“I am eager to witness it,” Ostrom said.
“And you’ve told her nothing about me, or prepared her in any way for this visit?”
“She’s been told nothing.”
“Excellent. We should probably keep the actual visit quite short: whatever she does or does not profess to know, the emotional strain will — though most likely unconscious in origin — no doubt be significant.”
“A wise precaution,” Felder agreed.
They turned a corner, waited for an orderly to unlock a metal door. “She will almost certainly appear uncomfortable in my presence,” Esterhazy went on. “This of course involves her own discomfort with her suppressed memories involving my earlier treatment.”
Ostrom nodded.
“One last thing. At the close of the visit, I would appreciate a minute alone with her.”
Ostrom slowed, glanced quizzically over his shoulder.
“I’m curious to learn whether her behavior, once you are out of the room, changes in any way, or if she will maintain the illusion of nonrecognition.”
“I see no problem with that,” Ostrom said. He stopped before a door — marked like the others only with a number — then knocked lightly.
“You may enter,” came the voice from within.
Ostrom unlocked the door, then ushered Felder and Esterhazy into a small windowless room. The only furniture was a bed, table, bookcase, and single plastic chair. A young woman sat at the chair, reading a book. She gazed up as the three entered.
Esterhazy looked at her curiously. He had wondered what Pendergast’s ward would look like — and was now well rewarded for his curiosity. Constance Greene was very — in fact extremely — attractive: thin and petite, with short dark mahogany hair and perfect porcelain skin and violet eyes that were alert and wise but oddly unfathomable. She looked from one man to the next. When she reached Esterhazy, she paused, but her expression did not change.
Esterhazy was not worried she might recognize him as Pendergast’s brother-in-law. Pendergast was not the kind of man to keep family portraits around the house.
“Dr. Ostrom,” she said, putting down her book and standing politely. Esterhazy noticed she had been reading Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. “And Dr. Felder, how delightful to see you again.”
Esterhazy was intrigued. Her movements, her pattern of speech, her very being seemed to echo an earlier, more dignified era. She could almost have been inviting them in for cucumber sandwiches and rose hip tea. She did not look at all like a crazed baby-killer locked in a mental ward.
“Please sit down, Constance,” Dr. Ostrom said. “We’ll only stay for a minute. Dr. Poole here happened to be in town and we thought you might like to see him.”
“Dr. Poole,” Constance repeated as she took her seat. She looked again at Esterhazy, a hint of curiosity kindling in her strange distant eyes.
“That’s correct,” said Felder.
“You have no recollection of me?” Esterhazy said, modulating his tone to one of benevolent concern.
Constance frowned slightly. “I’ve never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, sir.”
“Never, Constance?” Now Esterhazy added the faintest trace of disappointment and pity to his voice.
She shook her head.
Through the corner of his eye, Esterhazy noticed Ostrom and Felder exchange a brief, significant glance. It was working out just as he’d hoped.
Constance looked at him rather more searchingly. Then she turned toward Ostrom. “What gave you the impression that I would like to see this gentleman?”
Ostrom colored slightly, nodded to Esterhazy.
“You see, Constance,” Esterhazy said, “I treated you once, years ago, at your, ah, guardian’s request.”
“You’re lying,” Constance said sharply, rising again. She turned to Ostrom once more, confusion and alarm now becoming evident in her expression. “Dr. Ostrom, I’ve never seen this man before in my life. And I would very much like you to remove him from the room.”
“I’m very sorry for the confusion, Constance.” Ostrom looked quizzically at Esterhazy. In return, Esterhazy indicated with a slight gesture that it was time to leave.
“We’ll be going now, Constance,” Felder added. “Dr. Poole has asked for a moment of your time alone. We’ll be right outside.”
“But—” Constance began, then fell silent. She shot a glance toward Esterhazy. He was momentarily taken aback by the hostility that freighted her gaze.
“Please be quick, Doctor,” Ostrom said as he unlocked and opened the door. He slipped outside, followed by Felder. The door closed again.
Esterhazy took a step back from Constance, dropped his hands to his sides, and adopted as nonthreatening a stance as possible. There was something about this girl that set off warning bells in his head. He would have to be careful — consummately careful.
“You’re right, Miss Greene,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve never met me before in your life. I’ve never treated you. That was all a deception.”
Constance just stared at him from behind the desk, suspicion radiating from her in tangible waves.
“My name is Judson Esterhazy. I’m Aloysius’s brother-in-law.”
“I don’t believe you,” Constance said. “He never mentioned your name.” Her voice was low and utterly neutral.
“That’s just like him, isn’t it? Listen, Constance. Helen Esterhazy was my sister. Her death in the jaws of that lion was probably the worst thing that ever happened to him — except maybe the deaths of his parents in the New Orleans fire. You surely know him well enough to know he is not one to speak of his past — especially a painful one like this. But he asked me to help — because I’m the only one he can really trust.”
Constance said nothing, merely staring at him from behind the desk.
“If you doubt me, here’s my passport.” He removed it, opened it for her. “Esterhazy’s not a common name. I knew Great-Aunt Cornelia, the poisoner, who lived in this very room. I’ve been to the family plantation, Penumbra. I’ve gone shooting in Scotland with Aloysius. What more proof do you need?”