“What a surprise,” Spencer said, looking at her.
Stacy ignored his sarcasm. Leo continued. “In the past month, I’ve received three cards from someone claiming to be the White Rabbit. One depicts a mouse, drowned in a pool of tears. The cards are signed the White Rabbit.”
Spencer frowned. “From the game?”
“Yes.” Leo quickly explained about the role of the White Rabbit in his game and his fear that someone had begun to play the part for real. “I’ve gotten plenty of crank mail over the years,” he finished, “but these…something about them unnerved me.”
“That’s why he hired me,” Stacy said. “To find out who sent them. And if that person was dangerous.”
“I’d like to see the cards.”
“I’ll get them.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tony said, falling in step with the other man.
Stacy watched them go, then turned to Malone. “What?”
“Going into the private dick business?”
“Just helping a friend.”
“Noble?”
“Cassie. And Beth.”
“You think the cards are from their killer.”
It wasn’t a question; she answered, anyway. “They could be.”
“Or not.”
Leo and Tony returned then. Tony handed Spencer the cards, exchanging a telling glance with his partner. By his expression, Stacy knew he believed they were onto something.
Spencer studied the three cards. He lifted his gaze to Leo’s. “Why didn’t you call us about these?”
“And say what? I wasn’t overtly threatened. Nobody was dead.”
“Somebody’s dead now,” Spencer said. “Drowned in a pool of tears.” He took out a photo and handed it to Leo. “Her name was Rosie Allen. Know her?”
Leo stared at it, shook his head and handed it back.
“What’s going on?”
They turned. Kay stood in the doorway, looking fresher than she should for the hour.
“There’s been a murder,” Leo answered. “A woman named Rosie Allen.”
Kay frowned. “I don’t understand. What does this Rosie have to do with us?”
Spencer stepped in. “She was murdered in a manner similar to a card your ex-husband received.”
“The mouse in a pool of tears,” Leo said.
Spencer held out the photo. “Ever seen this woman before?”
The woman stared at the picture, her face going white. “It’s the sewing lady,” she whispered.
“You know her?”
“No…yes.” She brought a hand to her mouth. Stacy saw that it trembled. “She did some…mending and…alterations for us.”
Spencer and Tony exchanged glances. Stacy knew what the look meant: this was no coincidence. It was a connection.
Leo crossed to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair and sank onto it. “What we feared, Kay. It’s true. Someone’s playing the game for real.”
The detectives ignored that. “When did you last see Rosie Allen?”
Kay looked blankly at Spencer. He repeated the question. Before she answered, she followed Leo’s lead and sat down. “Just the other day. A suit of mine needed alterations.”
“And she fitted you?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t know her name?”
“Mrs. Maitlin…she takes care of such things.”
Tony frowned. “Such things.”
“Taking care of the help. Arranging appointments. Paying for their services.”
“I’ll need to question her. And the rest of the household staff.”
“Of course. The staff arrives at eight. Will that be soon enough?”
Both detectives checked their watches, then nodded. Having been there herself, she recognized their thought processes. It was five-thirty now. They’d go home for a quick shower, then meet somewhere to grab some grub. That would put them back here just as the staff was arriving for the day.
After telling Leo she would call him later, Stacy followed the two detectives out, hurrying to catch up. She missed Tony, but stopped Malone as he unlocked his car door.
“Spencer!” she called.
He turned, waited. She reached him. “The murder tonight, any similarities to Cassie’s?”
“Nothing that I saw,” Spencer answered.
She fought disappointment. And frustration. “You’d tell me if there was, right?”
“You’ll be the first to know when there’s an arrest.”
“Nice evasion.”
“Damn decent, if you ask me. Don’t think I owe you more than that.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Malone. Mutual cooperation. I’ll share anything I get with you, if you do the same with me.”
“And why would I want to do that, Killian? You’re not a cop. I am.”
“It’d be the smart thing to do. I’m determined. I’m working for Noble. I could help you.”
“The connection between Noble and Cassie is paper thin. If you don’t see that-”
“Believe me, I do. But it’s the only connection I’ve got, so I’m going with it.” She held out her right hand. “Mutual cooperation?”
He gazed at her outstretched hand a moment, then shook his head. “Nice try. But NOPD doesn’t make deals like that.”
“Their loss. And yours.”
He climbed in his car and drove off. She watched him go, then crossed to her own car. She unlocked it and slipped inside. He’d be back. He was arrogant but not stupid.
The name of the game was solving the case. He needed her to do that.
He just didn’t realize it. Yet.
CHAPTER 23
Wednesday, March 9, 2005
10:40 a.m.
“It took you two long enough to make it in this morning,” Captain O’Shay snapped, simultaneously plucking a tissue from the box on her desk.
“Couldn’t be helped, Captain,” Spencer said. “Interviewed a half dozen of the vic’s acquaintances since eight this morning.”
“Where are we?”
“Woman dead in the bathtub. One Rosie Allen. Ran an alteration business out of her home. Looks like she was drowned. Coroner’s report should be back this afternoon.”
“No sign of struggle,” Tony jumped in. “No defensive injuries, hands were clean. We’re figuring her killer subdued her, maybe with a stun gun.”
Spencer took over. “She’s ready for bed, in her robe and pj’s. Opens the door, anyway.”
The captain sneezed, then blew her nose. “She knew the person at the door.”
“That’s what we figure. But this is where the story gets interesting. Killer left us a nice little message. Poor Little Mouse, drowned in a pool of tears.”
“Written on the bathroom wall behind the tub,” Tony said. “Orange lipstick.”
“The lipstick?” Captain O’Shay asked.
“Atrocious, old-lady orange.” Tony made a face.
The captain looked irritated. “Status of?”
“Missing. Taken either as a trophy or to cover his ass.”
“You’re certain it was hers?”
Tony leaned forward. “Affirmative, Captain. Acquaintances all confirmed orange was her shade.”
Spencer took over, filling in his superior on Allen’s connection to Noble, the cards Noble had received and Spencer’s theory that a fanatic had begun to play the game for real.
When he finished, she stared at him, eyes glassy. “You don’t look so good, Captain,” he said.
“Damn allergies,” she said. “Everything’s in bloom.”
“Including your nose.” Tony grinned. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”
She snatched a second tissue from the box. “Not at all. If you don’t mind working Traffic.”
“Backing down, Captain. I’m too old and too fat for that detail.”
A hint of a smile touched her mouth. “This game, tell me about it.”
“Ever heard of Dungeons amp; Dragons? It got a lot of media attention a few years ago.”
She nodded. “Worked a case back in ’85, involved a couple kids heavily into D amp; D. They were romantically involved and killed themselves in a suicide pact. Media had a field day with it. Claimed ‘research’ about the game brainwashing the kids. Leading them to murder and suicide.