“What about the bodyguard?”
“Maybe she wasn’t aware that Eubanks has one. Or maybe she assumed she could deal with both of them. Whatever the case, the hotel housekeeper interfered with the scheme. The Siren was furious with her for that.” She shivered, remembering the scene. “I swear, the singer acted like a genuine diva who has been interrupted in the middle of a performance.”
“Trying to kill the housekeeper seems a little extreme under the circumstances,” Fallon said. “You’d think the Siren could have talked her way out of the situation by telling the real maid that she was a new hire or something.”
“She’s an opera singer and she’s mentally unstable. Going over the top is probably second nature for her.”
“You really think she’s a trained singer?”
“No doubt about it. I’m betting she once sang professionally. Maybe she still does.”
“You say she accused you and the housekeeper of interrupting her
performance?”
“I know, it’s an odd choice of words. The Siren may be unhinged but she sees herself as a star. Trust me, it was all there in her profile.”
“What about the housekeeper?” Fallon demanded. “Does she remember anything about what happened?”
Luther was still watching her. Grace focused on the computer screen. Lying was always such a tricky business and in her present exhausted state she had to be extra careful. As usual, she left in as much of the truth as possible.
“Not much,” she said.
Truth. “As I told you, she fainted when the Siren started singing to her.”
Not quite true. I’m the one who made her faint, not the singer. “When she woke up she was fine. I checked her aura. It looked healthy.”
Truth. “She remembered going down the hall to see why another housekeeper was cleaning 604 but she didn’t recall anything after that.”
“What did you tell her?” Fallon asked.
“Just that I had seen her faint and that I went to investigate.”
“All true. Good. I like that in a lie. You’ve got a talent for the business, Grace.”
In spite of her weariness, a flash of pride straightened her shoulders and boosted her spirits.
“Thank you, sir.”
“So the bottom line here is that no one called hotel security?” Fallon asked.
“Right. The housekeeper and her manager assumed there was some sort of mix-up in the housekeeping schedule, that’s all.”
“Then Eubanks isn’t going to hear about any of this,” Fallon said with growing satisfaction.
“No, sir,” Grace agreed. “Luther checked on him a short while ago. Eubanks returned from the golf course with the rest of his group and went directly to his room. He doesn’t appear to have any concerns because he’s now in the spa getting a massage.”
“Which means his bodyguard didn’t pick up on the spoor of violence that must have been all over the place.”
“As I told you, the hunter profiles of all the bodyguards are incomplete.”
“Because of the drug, no doubt,” Fallon concluded. “Damn, I can’t wait to see where the hell this thing is going.”
Something in his voice reminded Grace that Fallon Jones came from a long line of hunters himself. It was true that his talent had taken a few unusual twists but the adrenaline rush of the chase came easily to the surface.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Can you give me a description of the singer?”
“No, sir, I’m very sorry about that. When she came running out of 604 I realized that in addition to wearing a wig and the big glasses, she also had on a lot of heavy makeup. I think she’s probably in her mid-thirties, and I can tell you that she was tall and slender and she seemed to have a lot of upper-body strength but that’s about it.”
“Slender? I thought opera singers were supposed to be built like SUVs.”
“That’s a generalization, sir. It’s true that there are some very large singers. Many of the women who sing Wagner probably shop in the plus-size department. But there are actually lots of body shapes on the stage. Some of the most famous sopranos are downright tiny.”
“You’re sure this one was a soprano?”
She thought about the shattered glassware. “Definitely. The kind referred to as a coloratura soprano. Those are the ones who can sing the highest ranges. I’m no expert but even I could tell that she had exquisite control on some incredibly high notes. At least she did until her rage got the better of her.”
“You saw her aura. I want a full profile.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get one to you as soon as possible. But if you don’t mind, I’d like some time to think about it. I also want to do some more research in the genealogy files. We’re talking about a very rare talent.”
“We don’t have any time to waste here.” Impatience crackled in Fallon’s voice.
“I understand, sir. But I want to be accurate. I’m not at my best at the moment.”
“All right. Get some sleep and then get back to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell Malone that the last of our surveillance people just arrived on the island. They’ll take over the job of watching the five Nightshade operatives. The two of you might as well pack.”
Grace felt a rush of disappointment. Her grand adventure as a J&J agent was ending.
“What happens now, sir?” she asked.
“In addition to shadowing the Nightshade people, I’m going to contact Harry Sweetwater.”
“Why?”
“The Siren you encountered must be a pro.”
“A professional opera singer? Yes, I think so.”
“No, a professional hit woman,” Fallon corrected impatiently. “Someone hired her to take out a Nightshade operative. That means she must be a private contractor available for hire. Sweetwater knows his competition. With luck he’ll be able to give me a line on her. Can’t be that many Siren talent contractors running around. Hell, you’d think I would have heard of her myself, by now.”
“I’m not so sure, sir. I think of professional hit people as being, well, cold-blooded, at least when they’re working.” She could hardly say that in her former job she had actually met a few killers thanks to Martin’s venture into the arms trade. “The Siren was a true diva. I told you, she went ballistic when her performance was interrupted. I wouldn’t have thought that a volatile temperament and a lack of emotional control would be an asset in a contract killer.”
“Guess you get all kinds in any profession,” Fallon said. “Let me talk to Malone.”
Obediently she held the phone out to Luther. He snapped it out of her fingers, looking like a man preparing to go into battle.
“What?” he said brusquely. He listened for a minute. “No, she is not going back to Eclipse Bay. Not yet, at any rate. I’m taking her home with me.”
Grace felt her spirits start to rise.
“Why?” Luther said. “Because that damn Siren is a nutcase. She became enraged with Grace today. Who’s to say she might not develop some sort of obsession? No, I’m not saying I think she’ll come after Grace, but I’m not going to take any chances, either. Grace stays with me until you find the singer and neutralize her.”
Grace’s soaring spirits immediately stalled out. Luther was going to keep her with him but only because he was worried about her safety. Still, she was not about to get picky here. She would take any excuse to prolong their association.
“Call me as soon as you know anything,” Luther said. He ended the connection and looked at Grace.
“I know you need sleep,” he said. “But you’ll have to hang on for a while. I want to get you off this island.”
“Okay, I’ll go pack.” She pushed herself up off the sofa. “I could use some coffee, though.”
“I’ll order some to go from room service. You can drink it in the car on the way to the airport.”
“All right.”
“And while you’re drinking your coffee, you can tell me what happened a year ago,” he added, his voice dangerously soft.