He stuffed the drawing back in its portfolio and reached for another. Marcie’s drawing was worth real money now, and he was sure she’d kept it. That’s what she’d been after in the first place.
Far away on the West Coast, the chances of running into anyone who knew Marcie Wilson had diminished considerably. But it had still taken Hal a full year before he’d tried to make love to another woman. He’d picked an expensive call girl knowing that high-priced hookers with big mouths didn’t last long in a city like Vegas. But even then he hadn’t been able to go through with it, not then and not in several attempts after that.
So he’d gone to a shrink who’d suggested a therapy that had made Hal laugh out loud. He’d told Hal to find a girl who looked just like the Marcie he remembered and attempt to reenact that night. It hadn’t crossed his mind in the years since . . . until he’d met Vanessa.
Vanessa was a ringer for Marcie, right down to the cute little mole on the side of her neck. And she’d had no idea that he was rich. The dinner she’d made for him in her run-down apartment had been the nicest thing anyone had done for him in years. That’s when he’d made up his mind to marry her, if she’d have him. He hadn’t been able to resist the girl of his adolescent dreams.
Hal sighed as he opened another portfolio and drew out a whole series of drawings he’d shelved to preserve his marriage. In a moment of weakness, when he’d still thought it might work between them, he’d offered to name one of his cartoon characters after her. Naturally, Vanessa had been delighted.
Unfortunately, all Hal’s previous characters were alliterative. He’d used it as a gimmick at the beginning of his career and now names like Skampy Skunk, Benny Bunny, and Chiquita Chicken had become the Hal Knight trademark. If he used Vanessa’s name, her character would have to start with the letter V and he couldn’t think of any V animals. Vanessa had been insistent. So late one night, Hal had sat down in front of his drawing board, determined to come up with a character that would please his wife.
It had taken hours, but he’d finally come up with a series of drawings for Vanessa Varmint, a cute little red weasel that flew in from Paris to tug on the heartstrings of everyone’s favorite character, Skampy Skunk. And he’d introduced her in his Sunday strip.
Hal still remembered Vanessa’s shocked expression when she’d picked up the paper and caught the first glimpse of her personal cartoon character. A weasel? She didn’t care how cute it was!
That Sunday strip had been Vanessa Varmint’s debut and her swan song, all rolled into one. She’d never seen the light of day again. And here Hal was, stuck with a whole portfolio of drawings he’d never used.
Hal sighed. They really were pretty good. He guessed he could reintroduce Vanessa Varmint now that her namesake was no longer around to object, but Skampy Skunk was better off as a freewheeling bachelor. Right now he was in the midst of a tenuous romance with Penelope Possum, the unwed mother of six. There was a problem with the babysitter and Skampy Skunk couldn’t seem to get his ladylove alone. Since Penelope’s sister, Patricia, was now working for the postal service and using her pouch to carry the mail, Penelope and Skampy had to take the kids along on all their dates.
Hal picked up the portfolio with the Vanessa Varmint drawings and started to toss it into the trash, until it dawned on him that someday someone would pay top dollar for an unpublished series by Hal Knight. As he stuffed the portfolio back in the file drawer, Hal wondered whether the real Vanessa would have changed her attitude toward varmints if she’d known just how valuable that little red weasel might turn out to be.
It was past midnight and Hal yawned as he got to his feet and headed for bed. At least he wouldn’t miss Vanessa there. They’d had separate bedrooms for over a year.
A key fell out of his pocket as he slipped out of his shirt. Bending over to pick it up, Hal saw it was on a little gold ring with a tag that said, Smiling Bill Korman in Henderson. I’ve Got a Deal for You! Hal was thoroughly puzzled; he’d never bought a car from Smiling Bill in his life. Then he remembered that Walker had given it to him when he’d come back to Grace and Moira’s apartment, explaining that he’d found it on the floor next to Vanessa’s body. Hal had slipped it into his pocket without even looking at it, assuming that it was Vanessa’s door key.
Turning the key over in his hand, he reached for his own door keys. The notches didn’t match up, and he was willing to bet it wouldn’t fit Alan and Laureen’s door, either.
His mind was reeling, and despite the effects of the brandy, he slipped back into his shirt. He couldn’t sleep now. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, which helped a bit, and took three aspirin. If he kept on taking aspirin, maybe the hangover wouldn’t have time to hit between doses.
Three cups of instant coffee later, Hal felt almost human, still a little woozy but clearheaded. It was all beginning to add up. Vanessa hadn’t gone into Laureen’s freezer under her own steam. Someone had carried her there after she was already dead.
“This key’s the key.” Hal spoke aloud and chuckled at his own wit. If he could manage to sober up enough, he’d try it on every door in the building.
FIFTEEN
The Caretaker was scowling as he switched off the shortwave. The Old Man had no idea what hell was breaking loose up here, and again, he’d failed to get through. It was a good thing he’d been able to handle it without any help.
When Vanessa had discovered the loose patch of earth, he’d had no choice. At least he’d covered his tracks brilliantly in the process, even setting the stage with the box of brownies. It was something the Old Man’s soldiers seemed incapable of doing.
He sighed as he shut the door to Jack’s apartment and headed for the elevator. How many gruesome accidents and disappearances would these people swallow before someone got suspicious? Even though he’d always wanted this kind of responsibility, keeping his eye on everyone was exhausting. The only thing that made it possible was the monitor in Betty’s unit. Jack would probably have a heart attack if he knew that he’d done the Old Man a real favor.
There was the sound of irregular breathing in the darkness. “Alan? Are you sleeping?” The voice quavered slightly.
Alan opened his eyes to find Laureen sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the big pine tree, her shoulders slumped and her arms folded across her chest as if she were hugging herself for comfort. After twenty-two years of marriage, he knew that she was close to tears.
“What’s the . . . what’s the matter, honey?”
Laureen’s voice was still quavering. “It’s the freezer, Alan, it’s haunting me. Every time I close my eyes, I see what’s in there.”
Alan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Problems he’d encountered during the day seldom kept Alan awake, but he wasn’t as sensitive as Laureen. He hated it when she cried. Laureen didn’t cry often, but when she did, it took hours to soothe her.
“I’ve got an idea.” He went over and put his arms around her. “Since we’re both awake, let’s go up to the spa and enjoy the Jacuzzi. No one else will be up there and it’ll be nice and relaxing. And then we’ll take a nap on the lounge chairs. The freezer won’t bother you as much if you’re nine floors away from it.”
“That might help,” Laureen agreed hopefully. “But you were sleeping just fine before, and you always get a backache when you fall asleep on those lounge chairs. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. My back won’t bother me if I take along a pillow. I’ll get a bottle of wine and we’ll sit in the Jacuzzi and look at the stars.”