I stepped out of the tub and followed the sound of my cell phone to my room.
“Hey Maddie,” I said.
“How’d everything go today?”
“I don’t know—good, I guess.”
“Why am I not swayed by that?” she said. “Spit it out.”
“I just don’t have a handle on things like I want to. I don’t even have a clear direction.”
“Maybe not yet,” she said. “But I know you, and I’m sure you will.”
She popped a huge bubble into the phone.
“You never talked to me about the second victim,” I said.
“I knew you’d say that. That’s why I called. There’s not much to tell though.”
“You never know,” I said. “Sometimes the smallest things make the biggest difference.”
“She was a bit younger than some of his other victims by a few years.”
“I don’t think age has much to do with it. For him, it’s more about convenience,” I said. “An easy target. What else?”
“This one fought back which would be the first time since…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It would be the first time a woman has fought back since he took Gabby.”
“I think he underestimated her—his latest victim. I found definite signs of a struggle. She had a few lacerations on her right hand that were consistent with a six and a half-inch blade, which also seems to be what he uses to slice their legs. But, they’ve been cleaned and so have the inside of her fingernails.”
“He’s intelligent enough never to leave any evidence behind,” I said.
“So that’s about it,” she said. “Not much to tell. You got any more questions for me?”
“Just one,” I said. “What do you know about the mafia?”
CHAPTER 23
Maddie sat across from me and shoveled a spoonful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.
“Thanks for having me over for breakfast,” she said.
“I’m glad you came.”
She took her fork and turned it to the side and cut her sausage into five pieces and then launched one of the pieces off the side of her plate. It flew through the air like a miniature Olympian doing the catapult and then plopped down on my tile floor.
“Maddie,” I said, “Boo is spoiled enough as it is.”
Lord Berkeley snatched the piece of meat and moved all four paws across the room at rapid speed to the corner where he could enjoy the fruits of his labor in solitude.
“Oh come on, you know I can’t resist him when he gives me his pouty eyes.”
Few could refuse him when faced with his long, sad stare, and that was the reason he did it.
“So what was with the question about the mafia last night?” she said.
I told her about the return of Giovanni and the events that occurred the previous day. When I was done she titled her head back and laughed so hard I thought some of her food was going to come back up.
“Honestly Sloane, you have the most vivid imagination of anyone I know,” she said.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” she said. “That’s why it’s so funny.”
“You tell me what line of work he’s in then,” I said. “He drives a car that’s worth more than my house, and one of his suits is probably the equivalent of my entire wardrobe.”
She tilted her fork toward me.
“Minus your shoe collection, of course,” she said.
“You know what I mean.”
“And that makes him some mafia person who takes people out for a living?” she said.
“I don’t know if he kills anyone,” I said, “maybe his posse takes people out for him.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t call it a posse,” she said.
Maddie stabbed two spoonful’s of eggs onto her fork and placed them inside her mouth on both sides of her cheeks. She scrunched up four fingers, pressed them into her thumb and held them in the air and transformed herself into a character from The Godfather.
“Listen to me Sloane Monroe,” she said, “I have this like amazing kind of offer that you—”
“Nice accent, and you’re not even close by the way.”
“I thought that was pretty damn good,” she said.
“Look, the guy is into something, I just can’t figure out what.”
“So, you’ve tried?” she said.
“What?”
“To find out who he is?” she said.
I shot her a wink.
“What kind of PI would I be if I didn’t?”
“You run a background check while you were at it?” she said.
“Maddie, be serious.”
“You did!” she said. “I can tell. You need to chill. From what you’ve told me about this guy he’d be much more inclined to whisk you away somewhere for dinner in his private jet than bust a cap in your ass.”
“Nice.”
She smiled.
“I want to show you something,” I said.
“Don’t tell me,” she said with a wink, “you have a secret peg board here too?”
“Better.”
I pulled out the folded piece of paper I uncovered at the park. Maddie raised an eyebrow.
“Is that what I think it is?” she said.
I nodded.
“I can’t believe they let you keep that,” she said.
I glanced at her but said nothing.
She brought her hand to her mouth.
“Sloane…?”
“What?”
“They don’t know about it, do they?” she said.
“No, and I intend to keep it that way. They have all the others, and this one isn’t going to reveal some major clue that they just had to know.”
She held her hand out, and I gave her the note.
“Well I, for one, applaud you,” she said. “You know me; I’m all about going rogue. Does anyone else know about this?”
“Giovanni.”
“How?” she said.
“You can add that to all the other mysteries of the universe that I haven’t solved about him. I have no idea how he knew, he just did.”
“So where’d you get this?” she said.
I told her.
“I can’t believe you found it like that,” she said. “What a fluke.”
“He knew I would,” I said. “It’s like he knows how I think—how I work. It’s almost like he’s in my head and I can’t get him out.”
CHAPTER 24
Two hours later I was in front of the counter inside The Pretty Pen, an old-fashioned shop in a weathered stucco building decorated on the inside in painted stripes the color of milk chocolate and baby blue. I frequented it often since they peddled two of my favorite things—books and customized stationary.
A black-haired boy was hunched over the opposite side of the counter with his eyes fastened on a page of a Stephen King novel. His hair had been shaped with great attention and a lot of grease, and he had holes in his ears the size of nickels. When he stood upright, I got a peephole view of the shelf of books on the wall behind him. It was like looking through a magnifying glass without any magnification. After a minute or two it became clear that he either didn’t see me or he didn’t care, and my patience was spent.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He made an upward whipping motion with his head in my direction, but his hair didn’t move an inch.
“What’s up?” he said, or tried to say. Given the fact that he mumbled the words under his breath, I couldn’t be sure.
“Robert around?” I said.