He went downstairs and found her sleeping in the chair before the easel. He checked the clasps on the handcuffs and ankle irons-the chains running through the arms and legs of the chair. She’d been sleeping for most of the day. He didn’t want her to wake up like this. She might be hungry or need to use the bathroom.
The decisions in an artist’s life could be so hard.
He opened the bottom drawer in the cabinet, pulled a blanket out and draped it over her. Then he turned his back on her and marched upstairs.
Although the lights were out, he could tell that Mrs. Yap had lost her feathers. She wasn’t a bird anymore. She wasn’t peppy. He stepped over the body and opened the closet by the front door. Pulling on a hooded ski jacket, he wrapped a scarf around his neck and grabbed his gloves. Then he picked up her purse and went through it in the darkness. This was her fault, he reminded himself. She’d stuck her nose in his business and almost ruined his life’s work. What did she expect?
He found the keys to her new Mercedes and dropped the purse on the floor. Cracking the front door open, he checked the street. Christmas lights adorned most of the houses in the neighborhood. All except his and that house on the corner where the watchers lived.
The coast looked clear.
Eddie slipped out of the house, pulling the door shut and locking it with a key. But as he hurried toward Mrs. Yap’s Mercedes, he heard something in the air. A chopper in the black sky. Ignoring the arctic breeze, he bolted for the car with the key ready, then yanked open the door and jumped inside.
It was them. He could see the searchlight panning over the houses on the next street. They were getting their bearings. They were working their way toward his house. He’d better hurry.
He looked at the dashboard, getting a feel for the controls. The car started on the second try. Backing out the drive, he pulled down the street at an easy, I’m not the one you’re looking for pace. When he reached the stop sign, he ignored the corner house and waited for a Ford Explorer to pass. It was another woman on a cell phone. Eddie made a right, heading for the city and thinking all Explorers came equipped with women jabbering on cell phones. It was so ugly. So telling.
He glanced out the window, digging into a bag of chocolate chip morsels. The chopper was behind him now, the sound of its rotors fading in the distance. There wasn’t time to make an airport run, he decided. Dumping the car in long-term parking would mean having to take the bus back to the airport, then a train into the city. He knew from experience that the process took hours.
He yawned and smacked his lips as the chocolate chips melted in his mouth. He hadn’t slept for two days. The thought of sipping a delicious caffe latte crossed his mind. He wondered if the window table might be open at Benny’s Cafe Blue. Maybe he’d cruise by.
FORTY-THREE
Teddy met the messenger on the street outside Nash’s office, handed him a copy of the profile sealed in an envelope, and told the driver Barnett was in room 314 at Bryn Mawr Hospital. As he watched the messenger take off for the suburbs, Teddy got in his car and drove back into Center City.
Although Nash had invited him to dinner with Dr. Westbrook at his club, Teddy declined. It had been a long day trying to plug the leak. All he wanted to do was check in at the office and head home. Maybe give Barnett a call and see how he was doing. Teddy had written a note to Barnett and placed it in the envelope with the profile, wishing him well and giving him the news Teddy had been hoping for. The FBI was in. By tomorrow morning, agents would be meeting with District Attorney Alan Andrews and ADA Carolyn Powell for a full review of the Holmes case. Teddy wondered how Powell would handle it. Whether she’d become defensive with the agents and take Andrews’s side, or consider the possibility that maybe she was seeing things wrong.
He stepped off the elevator, opening the lobby door with a key. The lights were down. The receptionist was no longer there to give him a dirty look, nor was Larry Stokes. It looked as if most of the attorneys had gone home for the day as well. When he walked into his office, he found Jill at the computer studying for her bar exams.
“There’s someone here to see you,” she said with a look.
“Who?”
The look didn’t go away. “The assistant district attorney,” she said.
“Where?”
“Conference room three. She’s been here for an hour. She wouldn’t wait in the main conference room because the windows face the lobby.”
Teddy rushed down the hall to the other side of the building. Powell was sitting in a chair with her back to the door. As he entered the room, she turned. He noticed the file on the table and looked at her face. The distance was gone.
“What is it, Carolyn? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve brought you a gift,” she said, sliding the file across the table. “You can’t keep it, but you can read it if you like and take notes.”
Teddy opened the file. It was a copy of the missing persons report on Rosemary Gibb. He looked at her and sat down. When they met earlier in the day, he was in the heat of it and said a lot of things he didn’t mean to say or even think were true. His accusations had been outlandish and rude. Now she had come to him with Detective Ferarro’s file on Rosemary.
“I’m sorry for the things I said to you,” he whispered.
“Apology accepted,” she said. “But we still can’t find the leak, Teddy. It didn’t come from the roundhouse. You’re not gonna like hearing this, but I don’t think it came from Andrews either.”
“Then why are you doing this?” he said, deciding to let it pass for now.
“You’ve got Detective Ferarro worried, and he’s a smart man. The evidence is on our side, but I can’t take the chance that we’ve overlooked something. Ferarro went back to the gym. According to the report, that’s the last place anyone remembered seeing Rosemary Gibb.”
“You just used the past tense. What’s changed?”
“There’s a cafe across the street. Ferarro went back and interviewed the employees for a second time this afternoon. The manager thinks she came in that night, but isn’t sure.”
Teddy thought it over. “How about a pick-me-up?” he said.
She smiled. She hadn’t looked at him like this for days.
“It’s just a few blocks from here off Walnut Street,” she said. “You can check the report out while we walk.”
FORTY-FOUR
Teddy spotted the place on the other side of the street half a block down.
Benny’s Cafe Blue occupied the first floor of an old brick building. An awning stretched across the front, but was rolled up for winter. He could imagine five or six tables lining the sidewalk in warmer weather, and wondered why he hadn’t frequented the cafe himself.
As they crossed at the corner, Powell gave him a nudge and he turned. A young girl was walking away from her car parked in the alley beside the building. She had a gym bag slung over her shoulder, and was obviously heading for the club across the street. Teddy noted Powell’s eyes on the girl. Her grimace. As they passed, they looked down the alley. It was dark. Narrow. The perfect dead end.
The cafe was slow. It was only seven-thirty, but they were between rush hours. The manager, Harris Carmichael, said their timing was good and offered them free cups of the house blend. He’d join them at a table when their drinks were ready.
Teddy chose the table in the corner. As he sat down with Powell, he passed the file over. The missing persons report on Rosemary Gibb amounted to fifteen sheets of paper and even fewer leads. Ferarro had left out personal details when they met at his office yesterday, but nothing relevant to the case. The detective had been straight with Teddy and told him everything he knew.
Teddy turned to the window and looked outside. He could see the gym across the street. The girl he’d just seen in the alley was entering the floor and mounting a stationary bike. It was a close-up view. The distance between them no more than twenty-five yards. He felt a chill as he watched the girl working out, but thought it might be from the walk over.