Alex had been angry before in his life, but what he felt in that moment was a white-hot boiling mass that seemed to crawl out of his chest and down his arms to his fists. Blood oozed form where his nails dug into the heels of his hands.
“I know you wouldn’t approve,” he whispered. “But I’m going to find whoever did this. And I’m going to make sure they die slowly.”
The look on the old man’s face didn’t change, it couldn’t change, but Alex fancied that he saw a bit of disappointment in it now.
The anger that threatened to spontaneously combust inside his ribcage vanished and an unbearable weariness pressed down on Alex.
“Goodbye, Harrison,” he said, calling the Father by his proper name for the first and last time. “If I make it to heaven, I’ll see you there.”
Alex replaced the sheet over Father Harry’s face and then strode out into the rain.
The cab ride home seemed to take a long time. Alex kept reviewing what he’d seen and done at the mission over and over in his mind. Iggy had been right: they’d covered everything they could. The next step would be to figure out where Beaumont lived, what he did for a living — assuming he wasn’t a professional thief — and most importantly, where he came from before arriving at the mission.
Try as he might, Alex’s exhausted brain simply couldn’t figure any way to do that. A man dressed like Beaumont wouldn’t be living anywhere near the mission, so where would the police start a canvass? They could have men out for months and not find anything.
He balled up his fists until his knuckles were white, but it didn’t help. The only thing left to do was sleep on it and hope his reenergized brain would have better ideas in the morning.
By the time Alex had showered and dressed the following morning, it was pushing noon. He didn’t think he would sleep at all when he got home in the wee small hours, but exhaustion and a few shots of Scotch had worked wonders. His stomach growled as he rode the crawler downtown to his office, but if he stopped for a bite anywhere, it would be lunchtime before he got to work. Leslie was going to have his hide as it was, and she was not a woman to keep waiting any longer than he already had.
When he finally did arrive, he found his secretary sitting behind her desk, buffing her nails with an air of calm detachment. Yelling was to be expected, but when Leslie went quiet, things were really bad.
“Morning,” Alex said as if his arrival a mere twenty minutes before noon were completely ordinary.
“And where have you been?”
The tone in her voice could have kept his icebox cold for a month. He was about to answer, but she nodded toward his office.
“You’ve got a client waiting,” she said. “Been here over an hour, insisted she’d wait.”
“She?” Alex’s face brightened but Leslie fixed him with a deadly stare.
“All I can say is you’re damn lucky she didn’t leave after twenty minutes. I already lost another client who called in and wanted you to find their missing car. While I waited for you, the police managed to find it.”
“Sorry, doll,” Alex said. “It was a rough one last night.”
Leslie looked like she wanted to make a rude comment, no doubt about his bringing a tramp home and neglecting his business, and by extension, her. Something in his eyes stopped her, and her expression softened.
“We need this one,” she said, the fire gone out of her voice. “I don’t care if she wants you to follow her cheating husband or find her lost dog, don’t blow it.”
“I’m all over it, sweetheart,” he said. Alex gave her a mock salute and turned to his office.
“You’d better be,” Leslie muttered.
Alex resolved to take her somewhere for lunch as a peace offering, assuming he wasn’t out looking for a dog.
Beyond the door sat a young woman in a bright blue sundress. She had curly black hair that fell just past her shoulders and large blue eyes that seemed to match her dress. She was pretty with a delicate nose, pink cheeks, and lips that looked like they wanted to pout without actually doing the deed. She had on simple black flats, a wide black belt that circled her narrow waist, and she sat up straight in her chair with her legs demurely crossed.
“Excuse me,” Alex said, pulling the door shut behind him. “I was up late working with the police last night. I only just got in.”
“Are you Mr. Lockerby?” she asked. Her voice had a slight, lilting drawl in it. Not enough for her to be from the deep South, but maybe Virginia or Maryland.
“I am,” Alex said, offering her his hand. If she felt awkward about shaking hands, she didn’t show it. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“No,” she said, and Alex knew it for the polite lie that it was. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. Lockerby—”
“Call me Alex, Miss…?”
“Rockwell, Evelyn Rockwell.”
Alex seated himself behind his desk and pulled a notepad and pen from a drawer. “Go on, Miss Rockwell.”
“Evelyn, and I’m in desperate need of your help, Alex,” she said. “You see, my brother is missing and I need you to find him. His name is Thomas Rockwell.”
As she spoke, Alex made notes about her manner and her voice. She was clearly distraught, but there was something she didn’t want to say. He wrote hiding something with a question mark after it.
“Thomas disappeared yesterday,” Evelyn went on. “We were supposed to have dinner, but he never came. I just know something bad has happened.” She was trembling now.
“Have you been to the police?” Alex asked, pulling a pair of tumblers and a bottle of bourbon out of his bottom desk drawer. He poured two fingers in one glass and passed it to Evelyn. She accepted the glass and took a sip before shaking her head.
“I had to come to you, only you.”
“Why only me? There are some very good policemen in this town.”
“None of them are runewrights.”
“Why do you need a runewright?”
“Thomas was a runewright,’ Evelyn explained. “He’s been researching something for weeks now.”
“A new rune?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. But he’d been withdrawn and moody. I could barely get him to talk to me. Then he called me two days ago. He was happy and excited, like he used to be.”
“That’s when you agreed to meet for dinner?” Alex asked.
“Yes, and then he didn’t come. I waited and waited, and finally I went to his apartment, but he wasn’t there either.”
“Is there somewhere he would go? A friend maybe?”
Evelyn shook her head. Tears were standing out in her eyes now and Alex offered her his handkerchief.
“When I went to his apartment, it was all torn up. Like there had been a fight. I’m so terribly worried, Mr. Lockerby.”
“Alex,” he corrected. “This rune he was working on, do you know what it is?”
“No.”
“Does anyone else know about it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that my brother is missing. Will you find him for me, Alex? Please?”
“Do you have the key to his apartment?” Alex asked.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small brass key on a ring.
“I charge twenty-five dollars a day, plus expenses,” Alex said, accepting the key. “I have a very good finding rune but I’ll need to go to his apartment to cast it. I charge ten dollars for the rune.”
She reached into her purse again and pulled out several folded bills, peeling one away from the others. “Will one hundred dollars be enough of a retainer?”
“That will be fine.” Alex tried not to accept the bill too hastily. “I have a lunch appointment, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll go over to your brother’s apartment and cast the rune. Is there a phone number where I can reach you?”