The Dead Room (28 page)

“Why don't you guys take a tour of this place this morning, then grab some lunch, and I'll be back by late afternoon,” Leslie suggested to Adam and Nikki.

“I love tours,” Nikki said.

“She gives ghost tours in New Orleans,” Leslie explained.

“I thought she worked for Mr. Harrison,” Brad said.

“I do research. Adam has researchers working all over the country,” Nikki said.

Brad continued to look suspicious, and Leslie decided that he must be feeling proprietorial. A half hour earlier, he would have been certain he knew all her friends, and she suspected he wasn't enjoying knowing he'd been wrong.

That guess proved to be correct. Down in the basement, the crates were ready, the tool boxes were open, and work had begun. Time had taken its bitter toll on the remains. Laymon had already given her a speech about how the removal of the bones should have been videotaped, but out of respect for her feelings, he had decided not to allow filming in the basement until after the remains had been taken away. After Nikki thanked him, he left to go back to the work he considered important, exploring the crypt. Leslie and Brad were busy at the delicate work of preparing the skeleton for removal. Down here, conditions hadn't been kind. There were a few patches of hair on the skull and a few bits of fabric so blackened by time that they were barely identifiable as cotton.

“Are we test-tubing anything?” Brad asked her.

“No. Let's just get her a real burial. Please?”

“You know, someone with more power could step in on top of us.”

“I have a feeling they won't.”

“Because of your friend?”

“Adam, you mean?”

“Who is that guy?”

“An old friend.” Well, Adam
was
old, even if she hadn't actually known him all that long.

“I see. He has that air about him.”

“What air?”

“Like a guy who speaks softly but somehow everyone knows he's carrying a really big stick.”

Leslie shrugged. “He owns his own company, and he's done work for the government.”

Brad laughed. “He doesn't look like an assassin.”

“That's because he's
not
an assassin.”

“Then what does he do for the government?”

“Research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Historical, of course. Hand me that brush, please.”

“You're evading me.”

“I'm telling you the honest-to-God truth,” she vowed.

He held the brush for a minute, looking at her suspiciously, before finally handing it over.

A few minutes later, as they worked in silence, Brad gasped.

“What?”

“There—on the floor.” He bent down to take a closer look. “I take it you won't mind if we have this tested?”

“What is it?” she asked.

“The shot that killed her,” Brad said softly.

 

When Joe got to the site he was glad to find out that Laymon and Brad had already gone on to Hastings House to oversee the removal of the bones by the basement hearth. He didn't want to see either one of them.

One of the workers directed him to the guard who had been on duty at the gate the day before. He remembered seeing Laymon early in the morning and Brad late in the afternoon.

He went on to question the grad students. They, too, had seen Laymon early and Brad late.

“How about Hank Smith? Was he around yesterday?” Joe asked two of the students, a married couple in their early thirties who had met as undergrads on a dig. It had been a life of digging in the dirt for the two of them ever since.

“Calvin Klein, you mean?” the husband asked with a grin. “The guy with the suits?”

“Right. Him.”

“He hangs around here a lot,” the wife said. “Well, he hangs around for a while, goes to his trailer, comes out, hangs around…who knows what he does?”

“But was he around yesterday?” Joe asked.

They looked at each other, thinking. “I get busy with a dig, and…” The husband lifted his hands apologetically.

“No,” the wife said decisively. “I know I didn't see him. I actually look for him every day.”

“Wendy!” her husband said, surprised and hurt.

“It's his clothes, Cal. I love to see what he's going to wear next.”

“Were any of the cops around yesterday?” Joe asked.

They both stared at him. Cal cleared his throat. “Take a look around. There are always a ton of cops.”

“I'm thinking of Robert Adair, older guy, heavy, but all muscle. And the good-looking one who does the public speaking.”

“Did you see either of them?” Wendy asked Cal.

“I don't think so,” Cal said.

“I'm not sure about the older guy, but I didn't see the good-looking one.”

“You're sure?” Joe asked.

“I would have noticed,” Wendy said.

“Oh, so it's not just the clothes?” Cal asked wryly.

Joe left them to their friendly bickering and went on, still trying to put the pieces together in his mind.

 

Leslie was anxious about how Elizabeth's bones were being treated, but she was equally anxious to spend time alone with Adam and Nikki. For now, though, there was nothing more she could do for the evening. The bones were safely crated, and she and Brad had secured some of the fabric and surrounding earth for testing. In the morning, they would have to make a trip to the morgue, but once the remains were officially aged, Elizabeth could take her place in hallowed ground.

Leslie tried hard not to be rude to Brad, though she was aware that he was angling for an invitation to join her and her friends. She gave him a quick hug. “Finish up with the tools, will you, please? I want to spend as much time as I can in with Adam and Nikki, and they both have to leave tomorrow.”

“Sure. You guys going barhopping?”

“No, we're a sedate crowd.”

“She's pretty cute to be sedate.”

“She's married. Happily.”

“Damn,” he said. Then, “I'm teasing!” he added when she stared at him. He let out a sigh. “Go on. Have fun. I'll finish here.”

She ran up the stairs, realizing that the basement had held no eerie mysteries all during the day. She hadn't heard or felt anything. Did that simply mean that she had been letting her imagination run wild? Was she inventing half of what she had been told was a “talent”? Or maybe her mind had been so filled with the present today that she hadn't had time to dwell on the past.

She could hear two tours going on. Tandy was in the parlor, while Jeff had moved on to the dining room. She quickly popped her head into each room to see if Adam and Nikki were there, but there was no sign of them. She headed upstairs to her room. As she got ready to hit the shower, she remembered that she hadn't spoken with Joe all day. She hesitated. She desperately wanted to speak with Nikki alone; she needed to ask her why she couldn't communicate with Matt when she was awake. But she also felt she had to call Joe, given his concern for her welfare. And, whether it was because he was Matt's cousin or not, she felt an affinity for him, as if she had known him, been close to him, for years, rather than just days.

She called Joe, but he didn't pick up. She left him a hasty message, telling him friends had unexpectedly showed up in town and she would be out with them, but to please call her cell when he could. She tried Nikki then, and Nikki did pick up. “We're just down by City Hall, but we'll head back now. Oh, and Adam saw his friend Father Behan. Burial is all set, just as soon as the remains are cleared.”

“Perfect, thanks. See you soon.”

She jumped into shower, then paused. The house seemed so…empty. There had to be at least fifty people downstairs, and yet she felt…

As if the house was quiet. As if it were silent, watching, waiting….

“Matt?” she whispered. He wouldn't leave her. He would trust her. If he could, he would come to her. But she had no sensation of him being near.

Thank God she would be able to explain some of what was going on with her now, and to people who wouldn't immediately jump to the conclusion that she had become delusional in the wake of her loss.

The thought made her feel cheerful as she dressed in heels and a knit halter dress, then threw an embroidered shawl over her shoulders. When she went to transfer her essentials into a dressier handbag than she usually used, she saw that there was a message on her phone.

It was Joe. He wanted her to call and tell him where they would be, and said he would join them at some point during the evening.

By the time she went downstairs, the tours were gone, Melissa was getting ready to leave, and Adam and Nikki were waiting in the hall.

Melissa, like Brad, looked as if she would like an invitation to hang around. Normally, Leslie would have asked her to join them at least for a drink, but not tonight. She was too desperate to spill her guts to her friends. “I'll get the doughnuts tomorrow morning,” she told Melissa in answer to her hopeful look.

“Okay…cool. I'll be in early, like usual. Will I see you two again?” she asked Adam and Nikki, trying to hide her disappointment at being excluded.

“I don't have to be at the airport until around ten or eleven,” Adam said, smiling. “I'm sure I'll see you in the morning. Good night.”

At last Melissa was gone, and the alarm had been set, and Leslie spun around on the stairs to face her friends. “I'm so glad to see you guys!” she exploded.

“Was it a mistake to come back here?” Nikki asked gently.

“No…no, I would never say that, but…”

“Is Matt here?” Adam asked.

“Yes. And no.”

“Why don't we find a place to eat and you can tell us all about it?” Nikki asked.

“There's a great pub around the corner, O'Malley's. It's been there since before I first came to New York,” Adam said.

“Sounds good to me. There's…a lot to tell,” Leslie said.

“We've got all night,” Nikki said.

“I don't even know where to begin,” Leslie said.

“Start with your arrival,” Adam said. “We can talk as we walk.”

 

On the way back to his car, Joe realized with a touch of anxiety that there were no messages on his phone. He'd thought he'd simply missed Leslie's call while he was out of cell range down in the crypt, but it looked as if she hadn't called him back at all.

His association with her had apparently given him free access to the site, so he'd decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to check out the work being done in the crypt for himself, just to make sure there wouldn't be any more “accidents” of any kind down there. He wondered how happy Laymon would have been to find out that the people working the find considered it to be far more Leslie's dig than his. He was certain Laymon wouldn't appreciate the fact that he was prowling around on his own.

The crypt yielded no clues to anything, though he stood there just looking around for a long time. While he stood there, he found himself talking aloud to his dead cousin again. “What's going on here, Matt? What the hell am I looking for?”

Damn it, Joe, don't you think I'd be doing more if I knew? It's a mystery to me, too. It has something to do with what's happening underground, I know that much. I mean, that room where I died is right over the basement, and there are bones in the basement…Watch out for her, Joe.

Was that his own wishful thinking talking? Yeah, Matt, give me your blessing. She was the love of your life, and she's still in love with you, but I've got to be near her, at least. And I hope to God I'm helping.

After a while he decided he'd spent too much time by himself in a hole in the earth carrying on an imaginary conversation with his dead cousin, so he left and headed for his car. Once there, he looked at his watch, thought about what traffic was going to be like, swore and decided on the subway. As he was waiting on the platform, he found himself deep in thought again. He couldn't guarantee yesterday's whereabouts of any of the men who were becoming suspects in his mind. To imagine that any one of them could be an unbelievably crafty killer was beyond imagination. And yet, he was convinced that the missing hookers, the missing heiress and the explosion were all connected and that all he had to do was get the dots connected in the right order. He considered the possibilities as he stepped onto the train and grabbed the pole for support. The cops: Ken Dryer and Robert Adair. He'd known Robert forever, and it was Robert who'd connected him with Eileen Brideswell. Robert was a good old nose-to-the-pavement detective. Dryer was a peacock. Good at his job, though, a job that took him all over the city. The others: Hank Smith…the builder. He would know a lot about basements. Laymon. Seriously, did the man ever think about anything other than his work? Then again, maybe still waters ran deep, as the saying went. Laymon was so dedicated during his working hours that maybe he went off like dynamite when he wasn't digging. And Brad. Both Brad and Laymon had been working in Virginia when several of the disappearances had occurred. But the distance from New York wasn't that great.