Inside, Sissy found mostly trash. Unused matchbooks from Jeff Ruby’s Steakhouse and Neon’s. A dog-eared copy of How To Win At Horse Racing. A blue flashlight with no batteries in it. The instruction booklet for an HP desktop printer. Nail clippers. Six or seven ballpoint pens, all with their ends gnawed. A wooden Indian’s head, roughly carved, with the name “Quamus” on it.
She found heaps of old receipts, too. Receipts for gas, receipts for pharmaceuticals, receipts for drinks at Japp’s and the Crowne Plaza bar. And five receipts for a dozen roses.
Sissy lifted the florist’s receipts out of the box. She could sense at once that these were what had alerted her psychic sensitivity. They almost prickled her, like real roses. Roses. Just like the roses that had appeared in every DeVane card that she had turned up recently.
Each delivery had come from Jones the Florists, on Fountain Square. They had been delivered every Tuesday for five weeks to Ms. Jane Becker at Taft, Clecamp & Evans, Attorneys at Law, Twenty-one Giley Building, Cincinnati.
“You see this?” said Sissy. “I thought Jane Becker told you that she didn’t know George Woods.”
“That’s right, she did. She called him ‘that poor man.’ ”
“Did she? Well, ‘that poor man’ was sending her a dozen roses every week. Fifty-three dollars’ worth, including delivery. That was from the second week in March to the third week in April.”
“Do you think they were having an affair?” asked Molly, peering at the receipts over her shoulder. “That would account for George Woods wanting to say sorry to his wife, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand why Jane Becker should give everybody the impression that she didn’t know George Woods at all. If some man sent me a dozen red roses every week for five weeks, I’d sure want to find out who he was, wouldn’t you?”
“Every order had the same message on it,” Molly pointed out. “ ‘Remember the Vernon Manor. when our dreams came true.’ So she must have known who he was.”
“I think we need to go talk to her,” said Sissy. “I’m pretty sure she’s only told us half of the story. If she was having an affair with George Woods, that would have given Red Mask a motive to attack her, too, wouldn’t it? Red Mask didn’t stab her at random, just because she happened to be in the elevator at the wrong time. It was premeditated. He meant to hurt her. He might even have intended to kill her.”
Sissy tucked the florist’s receipts into her purse, and they left Frances Delgado’s office. As they began the long, careful climb down the stairs, Molly said, “Red Mask could be one of Jane Becker’s boyfriends. or maybe some guy who was obsessed with her, a stalker, who didn’t like to see her getting too friendly with anybody else.”
“Or a relative of Mrs. Woods,” Sissy suggested. “A brother or a cousin who wanted to punish them for cheating on her. So there’s a chance that Jane Becker knows who he is.”
“So why lie about it?”
“That’s what we have to find out, don’t we?”
Sissy paused on the fourteenth landing and pressed her hand to her chest.
“Whoever said exercise was good for you was lying through their teeth.”
“Do you want to stop and rest for a while?”
“No. I think I want to get out of this building as soon as I can. There’s still a second Red Mask on the prowl, remember?”
They carried on down. As they reached the ninth floor, Sissy said, “Remember. even if we do find out who Red Mask is, it’s not going to stop him from murdering more people. We have to track him down — the same way we tracked down this Red Mask today.”
“So you do want me to bring Frank back?”
Sissy looked down at her, and her eyes were glistening. “What do you think?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Talking to Detective Bellman
Detective Bellman was hot and exhausted after nearly an hour in the elevator. He sat astride one of the office chairs with his necktie loosened, drinking from a bottle of mineral water. His white shirt was sticking to his back.
Sissy had explained to him exactly what had happened on the seventeenth floor. She had told him the truth about Frank, and who Frank really was, and how Molly had created Deputy. She described how Red Mask had come bursting out of the closet and stabbed Officer Gillow.
She told him how Frank and Red Mask had burned into ashes, right in front of their eyes.
Detective Bellman listened to all of this wearily, without making notes. When Sissy had finished, he said, “How am I supposed to file a report on this?”
“I don’t know. It depends if you believe it or not.”
“No, it doesn’t. It depends if my lieutenant takes me off the case and sends me for a psych evaluation. It’s madness. It’s like something out of Alice in Wonderland. Playing cards, coming to life.”
“Where do you think Lewis Carroll got the idea from? It’s been recorded in so many cultures. pictures that step out of their frames and sculptures that move.”
Detective Bellman took another swig of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, it’s not going to be recorded in the Cincinnati Police Department culture. It’s going to stay our little secret, capiche?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Facing the Giant
They ate a subdued supper that night. Molly was too tired and distracted to cook, so Trevor went to Blue Ash Chili and brought home three four-ways and one five-way for Sissy, who didn’t believe that a chili was a chili without beans. She didn’t really believe that chili should be eaten with spaghetti, either.
“Who eats chili with spaghetti?” she said. “It’s against God’s law.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Trevor told her. “One day, when you’re back in New Milford, you’ll think to yourself, ‘I just got to have myself a Cincinnati five-way — chili, cheddar, onions, and beans, all on top of a big pile of spaghetti — and I got to have it now!’ ”
Victoria said, “Isn’t Grandpa coming for supper?”
Sissy glanced at Molly. If they were going to recreate Frank to go after the second Red Mask, then she didn’t want to say, Grandpa had to go away — not yet.
“Grandpa had some business he needed to attend to,” she said. “Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Is Grandpa going to come live with us, like Grandma?”
“You understand that he isn’t your real grandpa? He’s just like a picture of your grandpa, except that he can walk and talk?”
“I know,” said Victoria. “But that doesn’t matter. He’s still my grandpa, isn’t he? And he can come to my school and everything and see my play?”
“Victoria, sweetheart,” said Sissy, taking hold of her hand. “I’m really not sure how long Grandpa will be able to stay with us.”
“I’ll tell him he has to stay forever.”
Sissy thought about that, and then she said, “Okay. That sounds like a plan. When a granddaughter has asked for something — anything — what grandpa in recorded history has ever been able to say no?”
Sissy could eat only a few spoonfuls of chili. She was trying hard not to show it, but seeing Frank burn up today had shocked her badly. She couldn’t stop herself from shivering, even though the evening was so warm, and she felt the same iron-cold hopelessness in her heart that she had felt twenty-four years ago, when the state troopers had knocked on her door.
She must have been mad to suggest that Molly bring Frank back. But she had been so worried about how Frank would feel that she had forgotten her own emotions — especially her grief.