As if sensing her presence, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Morning. I was going to let you sleep a bit more.”
“I have a class.” She returned his smile. “But thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The coffeemaker sputtered as it finished brewing and he turned back to it. She saw that he’d found the mugs already; she watched as he filled two.
He held one out for her. She crossed to him, took it and went about adding milk and sweetener. That done, she took a sip, then looked at him over the rim of her mug. “It occurred to me that we’re going about this the wrong way.”
“Going about what the wrong way? Our romance?”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She shook it off and crossed to a chair and sat. “Get a grip, Romeo. Catching the White Rabbit.”
“Last I checked, you were a civilian and I was the detective. There is no ‘we’ in that scenario.”
She ignored that. “It seems to me, if we played the game, we’d have a better handle on what we’re up against. And who we’re up against.”
“Get into this Rabbit’s head.”
“Exactly. If the killer really is someone who’s begun playing the game for real, what better way to predict his moves?”
He gazed at her a moment, then nodded. “I’m in. So’s Tony.”
“Good. I’ll talk to Leo about setting it up. After all, who better to help understand the White Rabbit than the man who created him?”
He nodded again, drained his mug and set it on the counter. He started for the doorway, stopping and looking back at her when he reached it. “Call me when you have the details. And Stacy?”
“Hmm?”
“If you don’t get that door fixed, I’m sleeping over again tonight. That’s a promise.”
She watched him go, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She had to admit, a part of her would like to test that promise.
CHAPTER 31
Friday, March 11, 2005
10:30 a.m.
“’Morning, Mrs. Maitlin,” Stacy said as the woman opened the door of the Noble mansion. “How are you today?”
The woman frowned slightly. “Mr. Leo isn’t up yet. But Mrs. Noble is in the kitchen.”
Which didn’t answer her question. But did reveal the difference in the way the housekeeper felt about her employers. Stacy thanked her and started for the kitchen. The Nobles’ was a big, old-fashioned country kitchen, with a brick floor and exposed beam ceiling. Kay sat at the large butcher-block-style table, reading the newspaper and sipping orange juice. Sunlight fell across her, accenting the inky highlights in her dark hair.
She looked up when Stacy entered the kitchen and smiled. “’Morning, Stacy. I thought Friday mornings you were at school.”
The woman had a mind like a steel trap.
“I overslept,” Stacy fibbed, crossing to their coffeemaker, a newfangled, high-tech machine that ground the beans and brewed one perfect serving at a time-from a single shot to a full eight-ounce cup.
She coveted the machine. She figured she’d have to sell her soul to afford to buy one.
“Overslept?” Kay repeated, sounding disapproving. “Something you and Leo have in common.”
“Why do I have the feeling I’m being dissed here?”
They both turned. Leo stood in the doorway, bleary-eyed, his hair standing on end. Obviously, he had just rolled out of bed and into a T-shirt and pair of rumpled khakis.
The mad scientist returns, Stacy thought, turning back to the pot to hide her grin. She pressed the appropriate buttons and the machine whirred to life, grinding, brewing and dispensing a perfect double shot.
The smell filled the air.
“Leo,” Stacy said. “There’s something I need to-”
“Coffee,” he croaked, coming up behind her.
Kay made a sound of disgust. “For God’s sake, you’re like Pavlov’s dog.”
He wasn’t the only one. Stacy handed him the cup, then brewed herself another. When she reached the table, he was slouched in a chair, slurping the beverage. He’d managed to make a mess-sugar on the table, dribbled cream, used spoon. Like a small tornado-or Dennis the Menace-he came into a room and stirred things up.
Stacy sat. “Leo, there’s something we need-”
“Not yet,” he said, holding up a hand. “One more sip.”
“You should sleep at night,” Kay said. “Then we wouldn’t have to go through this every morning.”
“I’m best at night.”
“That’s just an excuse to get your own way.”
She glanced at her watch, then at Stacy. “The man would be a pauper if not for me. The rest of the world doesn’t operate on Leo time.”
“Quite true.” Leo leaned over and kissed his ex-wife’s cheek. “I owe everything to you.”
The woman’s expression softened. She laid a hand against his cheek and looked affectionately at him. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “That’s why you divorced me.”
As if on cue, they turned their full attention on her. She blinked, slightly embarrassed, as if she had just witnessed an intimate moment meant for only them.
Stacy collected her thoughts. “As of yesterday,” she began, “I’m in the game.” She quickly described the cat, how she had found it and the note she had been left.
Welcome to the game.
“My God.” Leo stood and crossed to the counter, visibly upset. There, he stopped, as if uncertain what to do next.
“I don’t understand,” Kay murmured. “Why is this happening?”
“You tell me.”
She looked startled. “Excuse me?”
“It seems to me both of you might have a better idea why this is happening than I would. I’m a late addition.”
Leo spread his hands. “Someone’s obsessed with the game.”
“Or with you,” Stacy countered. “Because of the game.”
“But why?” he asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“The very nature of obsession defies logic.”
Mrs. Maitlin appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Excuse me, Mr. Noble, those detectives from the other day are here. They say they need to speak with you.”
“Send them back, Valerie.”
He looked at Stacy in question. She saw what she thought was fear in his eyes. She shook her head. “As far as I know, nobody’s dead.”
Mrs. Maitlin showed them in. After a round of greetings, Spencer began. “We identified the artist who created the cards you received. A local guy named Walter Pogolapoulos, Pogo for short. Do you know him?”
They looked at each other, then shook their heads.
“Heard the name before?”
Again, they indicated they hadn’t.
Tony showed them a picture. “Ever seen him? Hanging around the neighborhood? At the mall, in the park? Anything like that?”
“No,” Leo said, sounding frustrated. “Kay?”
She stared at the photo, then hugged herself. “No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. Is he the one who…killed that woman?”
“We don’t know,” Tony said, sliding the photo back into his pocket. “He could be. Or he simply could have been hired to create the drawings.”
“We’ve yet to question him,” Spencer said. “But we will.”
Leo looked confused. “If you’ve identified him, why haven’t you questioned-”
“He got wind of us and disappeared.”
“But don’t worry,” Tony added. “We’ll get him.”
The couple didn’t look convinced. Stacy couldn’t blame them.
“Have you received another card?” Spencer asked.
“No.” Leo frowned. “Do you expect us to?”
Spencer was silent a long moment. Stacy knew he was deciding what he should say and what he should keep to himself.
He began. “We found sketches of the cards you received as well as several others, in various stages of completion.”