He turned slowly and faced an elegant woman dressed in a blue sequined gown.
“Your errand boy here didn’t take my wallet, Madame Rosa,” Blaine told her.
The woman smiled comfortably. “I thought I’d give you the pleasure of telling me who you are and what you’re doing here yourself.” Her eyes moved to the Oriental. “Chen, show him to my study.”
The Oriental led Blaine down a lavishly appointed hallway lined with original artwork and antique sculptures displayed on pedestals. They stopped at the last door down, and Chen waited inside with him until Madame Rosa made her appearance.
“Stay by the door,” she instructed him.
Chen bowed slightly and took his leave.
Madame Rosa closed the door behind him.
McCracken glanced around the room. It contained a strange mix of colonial furniture and modern technology. A row of video screens was built into the wall above a rolltop desk. A board with either red or green lights flashing for each of the brownstone’s rooms rested on an ancient cherry carpenter’s table.
“So that’s why my ruse didn’t work,” Blaine said, eyes back on the monitors, specifically one that showed the brownstone’s front. Five others provided different views of the building’s exterior.
“It was quite a performance,” said Madame Rosa.
“I aim to please.”
“Just so long as you’re not contemplating any encores in here. Chen is quite adept at dealing with intruders. He would be most pleased if I turned you over to him.”
“Can he buy his clothes in men’s sizes yet?”
Madame Rosa cracked a smile which held no trace of amusement. “All others who underestimated him were buried soon after. I brought Chen over from China. His reputation preceded him.”
McCracken walked about the room, inspecting it. “In which case he must fit in perfectly at this glorified whorehouse. Tell me, did you ever consider putting a red light over the front door?”
Madame Rosa’s face grew taut with impatience. “You mentioned Mr. Easton to the doorman outside.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
“If you’re here to threaten closing me down, forget it. I’m protected … all the way to Washington.”
Blaine’s dark eyes dug deep into the madam’s. “Lady, you piss me off and I won’t close you down, I’ll blow you up.”
“You worked with Easton?”
“Let’s say we fished in the same stream and I’m taking over his boat. We have a code in our business that lives on after death. I’m here to find out who killed him.”
Madame Rosa’s sequined gown seemed to blink. “I told everything I know to the others.”
“I like hearing things firsthand.”
“And just who are you?”
“The name’s Blaine McCracken if it matters.”
“It doesn’t.”
“We were talking about Easton. A regular customer, I presume.”
The woman nodded. “Twice a month when he could fit it into his schedule.”
“Same days?”
She shook her head. “Never. His work and security factors made that impossible. Sometimes he would book his appointments only hours in advance, sometimes days. Monday was different.”
“How so?”
“We had filled a … special order for him. He had been waiting for some time.”
The twins, McCracken realized. What kind of world had he entered here?
“That distresses you, Mr. McCracken?”
“Treating people like they were something out of a Sears catalogue has never rubbed me the right way.”
“Then consider yourself in a minority. People need relief, refuge, a place where their wildest dreams can be made a reality. A house like mine releases people’s pent-up inhibitions in a way that hurts no one.”
“Tell that to Easton … and his twins.”
Madame Rosa hesitated. “That was an entirely different situation.”
“And quite puzzling, if you ask me.” Blaine walked over to the bank of six video monitors. “I assume there’s another of these at your security station.”
“Of course.”
Blaine nodded. “So two men were able to bypass all this surveillance to get in and out of the building and murder three people in between. Something smells.”
“They were professionals.”
“So am I.”
“Maybe the killers were just better.”
“More likely they had inside help.”
Madame Rosa’s features flared. “I will not stand here and—”
“I’m not finished yet. Not only did they get in and out without being seen, they also knew exactly what room Easton would be found in. No need for trial and error, right?”
“He used the same room all the time,” she replied defensively.
“But someone would have had to tell the killers that, wouldn’t they? And maybe this same person, or persons, looked the other way, perhaps pulled the plug on your million-dollar surveillance for five minutes or so Monday afternoon.” Blaine paused. “You’re still standing there, madame.”
“Your conclusions are unfounded. Discretion has always been a primary concern here. My people go through more security checks than the President’s staff.”
“What about beyond your people?” he challenged her. “Someone might have known something. Enough.”
“No,” the woman replied after a pause long enough to convince Blaine she was holding something back.
“Madame Rosa,” he began more compassionately, forming a lie, “I’m here on no one else’s authority but my own. This is purely personal. The killers of Tom Easton cannot be allowed to go unpunished. Otherwise, none of our kind are safe.”
“There is nothing I know that can help, I assure you.” Her eyes softened and she seemed to feel less threatened. “But if there’s anything else I can do …”
Blaine nodded. “I’m retracing all of Easton’s steps up to the time he died. I’d like to see the room where he was killed.”
Chapter 6
“I’ll have Chen show you upstairs,” Madame Rosa said. “But the authorities have been over the room a dozen times. You won’t find anything they haven’t already.”
“Won’t know that till I try, madame.”
Madame Rosa accompanied Chen and Blaine to the stairs and left them to go up on their own. Following behind the Oriental, Blaine drastically altered his estimation of the man, or perhaps just conceded it. He had known Chen’s kind many times over the years, mostly in ‘Nam. Quick, silent killers who could move with the air and vanish into the wind. They were nimble and lithe, capable of killing efficiently with their bare hands. McCracken had heard of several large and powerful men like himself who had fallen prey to their misjudgments of killers like Chen. He would have to make sure he didn’t follow them.
Blaine kept his distance as Chen led him to the third floor and unlocked a door no different from the others.
The inside of the room was something else again.
Obviously, Washington or Langley or both had decreed that it be left as it was, and no amount of days since the killing could stop Blaine’s stomach from pitching. The blood was everywhere, dried and blotchy, splattered against the walls and floor, soaked into the sheets. The scent of incense was thick in the air, but nothing could erase the lingering smells of death or the feeling of it. McCracken felt certain that even blindfolded he would have been able to pick this room as the one where violent death had occurred. A bit queasy, he stepped farther inside. Chen remained in the corridor and pulled the door three quarters closed.