The Dead Room (24 page)

“Betty was a friend of yours?”

“Betty lived in my building. I was out with her, chatting on the street, you know. And I saw her get into the black sedan. And that was the last time I saw her. Black,” she repeated. “I know it was black.”

“You don't remember the make or model?”

Heidi shook her head. “It was sleek-looking.”

“Sleek…clean, in good shape, that kind of thing?”

“Yes.”

“Like some kind of official car?”

“Maybe,” she said, but she sounded uncertain. “I've seen hundreds of cars like it on the street. To tell you the truth, a couple things ran through my mind. I was thinking the dude probably had money. And I was thinking Betty might have known him, 'cuz she didn't stand by the window negotiating, just got right in.”

Joe leaned back, puzzled. Who would have been driving around in a black sedan who knew both Genevieve O'Brien and a prostitute so well that they would both just jump in the car with him?

“I wish I could tell you more,” Heidi said.

“Tell me more about Betty,” he said.

Heidi looked sad and shook her head. “Well, for one thing, her name wasn't really Betty. She was in the country illegally. She couldn't get a regular job because…she doesn't have a social security number, and she doesn't pay taxes.” She sniffed. “She lives in my building because the landlord is an asshole who doesn't ask questions 'cuz it's a roach motel. Half the tenants just name the rats and pretend they're pets. Genevieve talked to her one time about a way for her to get the right papers so she could stay in the country.” She hesitated, looking at Didi again. “I'm the one who called the police. I called from the pay phone down the street. But they wanted me to fill out a lot of forms, and…anyway, they didn't do nothing. But I got Maria Rodriguez from my building to go down and file a report. She even took a day off work to do it. Didi and I made the time up for her, though. She scrubs floors.” She hesitated, a strange look on her face. “Are you thinking Didi and I should scrub floors, too? That anything would be better than what we do? Maria has a scar and she's self-conscious, otherwise she'd be out here, too. Don't fool yourself that there aren't a lot of women out there tired of scrubbing and more than willing to hit the streets.”

“Heidi, I wasn't about to judge you, I swear. I'm grateful for whatever you can tell me.”

Heidi leaned back, not looking quite so friendly. “Right. 'Cuz this time a rich girl disappeared.”

“Heidi, I was hired because a rich girl disappeared. I hope I can stop whatever is happening so no more girls disappear, rich
or
poor.”

“Don't forget the Mimic,” Didi said.

Heidi waved a hand in the air. “When he dressed up, the Mimic was the prettiest girl I've ever seen. He was taken by accident, I bet.” She stared hard at Joe. “And they're dead, aren't they? They're all dead. And you know what? I told the cops Betty disappeared in a black sedan, a
nice
sedan, but
they
think she disappeared
after
that. Even though they never found anyone who saw her after me. Why don't people ever want to believe that rich people can be perverts? Those assholes are looking for a bum, a dealer…some low-life creep.”

“Heidi, believe me, the cops aren't fools. They put policewomen out on the streets for a while, right?”

Heidi let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, they did. But I never saw that car when those girls were around. Though…hey!” She sat back suddenly, staring at him. “I know you.”

“You do?”

“You're dead.” Her mouth opened in an O. “I saw your picture in the paper.”

“You saw my cousin's picture in the paper. He was in the paper a lot. He wrote a column. He was killed last year in an explosion at Hastings House.”

“Hastings House?” Heidi murmured.

“Do you know something about Hastings House?”

Heidi shrugged sadly. “No…but I remember Betty saying how Genevieve wanted to go to that party thing there last year—the one that ended up with that explosion. She told Betty some snooty society friend of her aunt's was in charge but she wasn't going to beg to be invited. She used to walk by the place all the time, though.”

Those words stunned him into silence. He wasn't sure what this new information meant, if anything, but it was a link. A tenuous link.

A “link” that might mean nothing.

Lots of people walked past historic sites. Some people walked by them every day, hurrying to work, never noticing them. But others loved the fact that they could walk by places that had a history, that meant something.

“I see,” he said at last. What the hell did he see?

“Heidi, is there anything else?” Didi asked for him.

“I don't think so….” She brightened suddenly. “I have Betty's things. That bastard landlord just dumped them in the hall, so I I took them. Just in case she came back, you know? You can see them. I mean, if you're interested.”

“I would love to go through Betty's things.”

“I told you—I live in a roach motel.”

“I'll see if I can kill a few for you. Lead the way.”

 

Leslie did stay at the hospital. She stayed for two hours. Then she checked herself out, collected her belonging and discovered that she had a dozen messages on her cell phone. One of them was from Brad, and she hastily called him as soon as she reached the street—determined to catch a cab and not ride the subway again, at least not that day.

He answered his phone immediately and went off on a tirade. What had happened to her? Why hadn't she made sure someone called him? Was she all right? He was furious that he'd had to hear about what happened on the news. How could she do this to him?

“Brad, you're being dramatic.”

“Really? Do you remember calling me, asking me to meet you this afternoon?” he demanded.

“And I still want to meet you. At Hastings House.”

“Don't be an idiot. You almost died today.”

“But I didn't. And I'm fine. I'm on my way to Hastings House now. Are you coming?”

“All right. I'll beat you there.”

He did.

He was lounging on the porch with Melissa when the cab dropped her off.

They both rushed to the curb to help her from the cab. It took her twenty minutes and more energy than she had to spare to convince Melissa that she was all right. Then she led Brad down to the basement, where she showed him the wall and the bones, and the records she had copied from the library, then told him what she wanted him to do.

He stared at her. He almost looked as if he were frightened of her.

“Shit. This is getting uncanny.”

“Brad, I've studied the history of this house. It will work.”

He shook his head. “You want me to pretend that I just walked into Hastings House and started on the basement wall with a pickax because I knew that I'd find bones?”

She took a step back from him, frowning.
Actually, yes, that was exactly what she wanted.

“Um…”

“You're too good at this, and it's getting scary,” he informed her.

“Brad, please?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What does Wonder Boy think about all this?”

“Wonder Boy?”

“Joe.”

“Don't be an idiot,” she said.

“Sorry. I guess I'm jealous.”

“He's been a very good friend.”

“So have I.”

“I know that, Brad.”

“Sorry. But what does he think? I mean, is he getting a little freaked out, too?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I can't keep pretending to be in on all your discoveries—especially not when someone else knows the truth.”

She started to laugh. “I think you don't mind doing it, you just don't want to get caught.”

“Something like that,” he admitted, laughing suddenly. “Okay, I'm pathetic. I love to get the credit. But it's not mine.”

“I don't want any credit. I just want things…taken care of. Look, I know who this woman is. Her husband murdered her and told the world she'd left him. We need to bring the truth to light.”

He was silent for a moment, his head lowered. “All right. You read the records, got me to do the same. We shared some logic and a hunch. We'll prove who she is when we make the announcement, and we'll get her a nice burial with all the right…whatever. Like I'm sure it makes a difference, all these years later.”

“It makes a difference,” Leslie insisted.

He sighed. “All right. Tomorrow we'll make the announcement and arrange to have the bones removed. I'll find a reporter and a priest—Episcopalian? Do we know that?”

“We'll assume. New York at the time…mostly Episcopalian.”

He shook his head. “The crypt you discovered is shored up now. Laymon is going to be going insane to move in that direction, too. And now you're going to be more famous than ever—she has second sight, and she survived a cave-in
and
a subway accident. People will be talking.”

“Brad, come on.”

“That's not me, Leslie. That's just what people are going to say.”

She let out a soft sigh. “Just help me, okay?”

“I'll do my best. Hey, if you get any better at this ESP thing, maybe you can pick us some winning lottery numbers.”

“I've discovered bones, Brad. Not riches.”

“Yeah, so work on that, will you?” He looked exasperated, then pulled her to him and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Leslie…shit. I like you, but you really have gotten…
eerie.
”

“Thanks a lot, Brad.”

“I don't mean anything bad by that, honestly.”

“Right. I'm creepy, but that's not bad.”

He grinned. “No, you're creepy good,” he assured her. “All right, I'm going to get out of here. Get the ball rolling.”

“Thanks.” She hesitated. “Brad…at the site, when you found me, unconscious…”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You and Laymon arrived at the exact same time?”

“Yeah, why?”

She shook her head. “No reason.”

Brad suddenly frowned deeply. “Are you going to ask where I was today?” he demanded.

She stared back at him, stunned.

“Nowhere near the subway,” he said curtly.

“Oh, Brad! I'm sorry, I didn't mean…actually, I was hoping you'd seen someone,” she murmured.

“No. There was no other way in, no other way out. No one suspicious, and guards all over the site, Leslie. You know that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'd die before I'd hurt you, Leslie,” he said. “And I'm a coward,” he added ruefully.

She stepped forward, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Well, I'd better get going. I'm supposed to meet Laymon for dinner.”

“Where are you going?”

“Anthony's, just down the street. He doesn't like to leave the area. You know Laymon. He's always convinced someone is after his discovery.”

“And he can catch them from a restaurant?” she asked, amused.

Brad shrugged. “I guess he figures he can get back to the site quickly if he has to.”

“Think I should go with you?”

“If you want. Or I can tell him you're sore from the subway thing.”

“No…I'll run up and take a shower. And call and invite Joe.”

“Joe. Yeah. Sure.”

“Hey, he's helping.”

Brad took a deep breath. “Helping? Or reminding you of Matt every single second?”

“They're two very different people, and I know that, Brad.”

“Are you sure of that?” Brad persisted gently.

“Joe is helping.”

“Joe's convinced the explosion here was intentional,” Brad said wearily.

“Maybe it was.”

“Who the hell would gain from it?” Brad said.

She wondered if she should be dead honest when she was alone with him in a small underground room, then told herself not to be ridiculous. Melissa knew where they were, not to mention she had worked with Brad for years.

“Maybe someone was trying to kill Matt.”

“And didn't care about hurting a houseful of other people?”

“A lot of people couldn't care less about who gets in the way when they have a goal in mind.”