The Manolo Matrix (22 page)

“Okay,” she said, tapping the computer. “I’ve got two screens open. One with the entry forThe Love

Set and the other withWhen in Rome.”

His earlier musings vanished, and he leaned in closer. “Anything overlap? Cast? Crew? Opening dates?

Theater?”

“Working on that.” She did some more clicking and dragging, then ran her finger slowly down the screen as he followed along.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And then, “Wait!”He stared at the screen, certain that what he was seeing was no coincidence.

He leaned over and took over the track pad. “Here,” he said, pointing the arrow to “Morgan”

in theOne

Thing After Another list. “And here.” He manipulated the track pad again, moving the arrow over

“Catiline” fromWhen in Rome.

“Kenneth Daigneau,” she said.

“Somehow he’s important.”

“Type his name into the search box,” she said. “What shows has he been in?Candide, maybe?”

Devlin angled the computer toward him so he could type, and in no time at all the search engine spit back a result:The Love Set, When in Rome, andOne Thing After Another.

“NoCandide, ” Devlin said. “But all the others are there.”

“Yeah. So what does that mean?”

He wished he knew. More and more, he wished he could just spit out all the answers and make this woman safe. But all he could do was play the game and hope that in the end that was good enough. “If we read the message literally, the place we’re looking for is a gathering place. Maybe a restaurant or a hotel or something. And Dorothy Parker went there. So maybe this Kenneth guy went there, too. And that’s the connection betweenCandide and these other plays.”

“Maybe,” she said, though she didn’t sound convinced. “But what aboutCats? ”

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“No idea,” he confessed. “Hopefully we’ll figure that out.”

“What time is it?”

“Don’t think about it,” he said. But he couldn’t help himself. He looked up at the clock: Approaching six.

Damn.

“Right.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to focus.”

“Good girl,” he said as she typed “Dorothy Parker Kenneth Daigneau” into the search box.

“Nothing much,” she said, scanning the hits that came up.

“Try just entering his name,” Devlin said.

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“Whoa,” she said as the first hits came up. “This has got to be it.Spamalot! ”

“Holy shit,” he said. “You’re right.” Kenneth Daigneau, as about eight million sites announced, had won a contest back in the thirties to name a processed meat product: Spam.

“We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot,”she sang. “The Knights of the Round Table. Arthur, Camelot—”

“And Dorothy Parker,” he said. “The famous writers’ round table at the Algonquin Hotel.”

“That’s got to be it. It’s a perfect fit.” Her brow furrowed, and he knew she was remembering the other piece of the puzzle. “Except forCats. That doesn’t fit at all.”

“Sure it does. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s a knight, and in Camelot there were the knights of the round table, right?”

“True,” she admitted.

“And there’s more,” he said, feeling just a little smug. “About four years ago, I went to a benefit at the

Algonquin. Guess who the guest of honor was.”

“I have no idea,” she said.

“Matilda,” he said. “The house cat who lives in the Algonquin Hotel.”

JENNIFER

Idon’t speak cat, so I had absolutely no clue how a cat was supposed to help us figure this out.

Was it a trained cat, who’d respond to my voice, then rush across the lobby, press his paw on a secret button, and open a hidden compartment?

Probably not likely, but as we stepped into the fabulously appointed lobby of the Algonquin Hotel, I

tried not to worry about it. After all, we’d figured out the clue. Surely we’d figure out the answer, too.

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The place was positively stunning, old-world elegance highlighted by writing desks and other antique furniture in rich, dark colors. Settees and chairs were clustered together in conversation areas, empty now when so many New Yorkers and tourists were still sleeping.

As we moved toward the front desk, I stifled the urge to smooth my clothes and brush back my hair.

This was elegance to the max. By comparison, I felt like a street person in my jeans, even if they were designer.

We reached the reception desk, and banged on the little bell. Almost immediately, a petite blonde emerged, her eyes bright and her smile wide despite the early hour. “May I help you?”

“Actually, we need a room,” Devlin said, as I looked on in surprise. He caught my glance and shrugged.

I didn’t protest. I felt scummy and gross, and even though Devlin probably didn’t mind—he’d been wallowing in scummy and gross—I was desperate for a shower. And if past experience was any indication, we were going to need some time with the computer even after we found the kitty-cat clue.

Assuming, of course, that we were right and Matilda was harboring a clue for us at all.

As the woman took all of our (false) information, Devlin casually mentioned Matilda. “I don’t suppose she’s up and about?”

“Oh, I bet she’s around.”

I turned in a circle, visually scouring the lobby. “Um, so where is she?”

I was already having a sinking feeling about this. I had a mental image of me crawling on my hands and knees over every inch of the hotel, shaking a bag of Pounce and trying to urge Miss
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Kitty out into the open.

Thank God reality turned out to be so much better.

The clerk turned her attention away from Devlin long enough to call out in a stage whisper,

“Matilda!

Matilda, sweetie, you have admirers!”

And then, just as pretty as you please, this big, beautiful, fluffy grayish-white cat leaped silently onto the top of one of the writing desks. She plumped her rump down and stared at us as if saying, “Well, I’m here now.”

I swear, I wanted to kiss her. The cat, not the clerk, although in my giddiness, I would have kissed the clerk, too. Out of a day of horrors, I think this was the one and only thing that had gone smoothly. As soon as this was over, I wasso getting a kitten.

“Um, can I just go over?” I asked, motioning toward Matilda.

“Oh, sure. She’s very used to people.”

I guess she’d have to be. So while Devlin finished up the paperwork and gave the woman the cash for our room, I went over to make Matilda’s acquaintance.

Sure enough, she was a friendly cat, rubbing her head against the palm of my hand, and then leaping into my lap with little encouragement once I took a seat in the chair by the desk. “What have you got to tell

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me, sweetie?” I murmured, my nose buried in her fur. “Have you got a message for me on that collar of yours?”

That really would be too easy, so I was completely positive her collar would yield nothing.

Fortunately, I was wrong.

“Anything?” Devlin asked, coming over to join us.

Matilda’s purr ratcheted up a notch as I kept my fingers buried in her fur, scratching away at that sweet spot at the back of her neck.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Matilda’s my new best friend. Check it out.”

As he leaned in closer, I manipulated the collar so the back side was facing up. It was a stretchy thing, like a woman’s bracelet, with links of silver encrusted with diamonds and emeralds (fake, I assumed, but what did I know?). The underside was smooth, though, and on it, someone had engraved a message:WWW.PLAYSURVIVEWIN-CAT.COM

“Thank you, Matilda,” I whispered. “If we survive this, I’m sending you kitty treats every week for the rest of your life.”

DEVLIN

Why do you run? What do you wish?

To prevent the Horrors, to shun the fate of a fish.

So scurry, scurry like gaggling geese, Run to Bishop to make your peace.

The clock is ticking, petals falling, Not a Beast, but dead…and no use stalling.

Devlin stared at the computer screen and decided that the world was one very fucked up place.

“This is nuts,” he said. “Absolutely fucking nuts.”

Beside him, Jenn kept her eyes firmly on the screen, but he caught the way her lower lip quivered.Hell.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. She slumped against him, and he knew she was losing confidence. And that simple truth was more devastating to him than the day he’d lost his badge.

He turned her slightly so that she’d be facing him if it weren’t for the fact that she kept her head aimed toward the desktop. Since he couldn’t meet her eyes, he pressed her forehead against his.

“Hey. We’re going to figure this out.”

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“It’s already six. I’ve only got until ten. And damned if this game will throw us a straightforward clue. So when? When are we going to figure it out?”

“Right now. We’re going to figure it out right now.” His voice was firm, determined, and he noticed that when she looked up at him, she was smiling.

“Are you taking care of me?”

“Damn straight.” He of all people knew how easy it was to wallow in self-pity. But that kind of thing could kill you. Him, it would just kill his soul. Her, it could kill before the day was out.

“God, I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here letting the asshole win.” Her chin jutted out in a way he found both cute and incredibly sexy. “I’m not going to let him win.”

“Then get off your ass and do something about it.”

She must have taken him literally, because she started to pace, nodding a little as she moved.

“Right.

Right. Evita, maybe. She’s strong. And in the first act especially, she totally gets her way.” Her forehead creased in a frown. “Except she dies in the end, so maybe she’s not the best choice….”

“What are you talking about?”

Her cheeks bloomed with color. “It’s silly.”

“I promise to only laugh for ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Ha ha.” She made a face, but continued. “It’s this thing I do when I’m nervous. I pick a character—sometimes I even make up a character—so that I can be someone other than me. It’s stupid, but—”

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” he said simply. “I don’t.”

“Oh. Well, then. That’s cool.”

Her smile was sweet and a little shy, and impulsively, he pressed his hands to the sides of her face, tilted her head back, and kissed her. He’d honestly meant it to be a quick kiss. A symbol. A thank-you.

Somehow, though, it became more than that. Her mouth opened, not from passion so much as surprise, and he took advantage, exploring her lips with his own, feeling his body burn with a need that had sparked hours earlier and hadn’t yet been extinguished When he finally pulled back, she stared at him, her eyes surprised, shocked, and dreamy.

“Wow,” she said. She closed her eyes and rubbed her lips with two fingers. “Wow,” she said again.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he said. “Even though I probably should. Because we don’t have time right now. But consider that a promise.”

“Keep making promises like that, and you’ll find yourself seriously hurting if you don’t make good. And

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soon.”

He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, so he just nodded gravely. “Absolutely.”

“Good. Now quit making passes and get to work.”

He scooted his chair closer so he could see the computer screen better. “We’ll deal with just the clue now since we’re racing the clock. But as soon as we’re sure we’re safe, I’m going to see what I can find out about this domain name.” He also intended to call and see who donated the cat’s collar. But he had a feeling that was going to be a dead end.

“You can do that?”

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“Sweetheart, I can do anything I put my mind to.”

He was expecting a laugh. Instead, she just nodded, all business. “Yeah. I can see that about you.” For a second, her face turned serious and he thought she was going to say something else, but she shook it off. Instead, she pointed to the screen. “You can start by solving that piece of shit riddle.”

“It’s a tricky little bastard.”

“So prove to me what a hot shot you are.”

“Right.” He reached for the phone. “And maybe some food, too.” He punched the button for the speed dial, then ordered in a feast of coffee, toast, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Plus a short stack of pancakes thrown in for good measure. To Jenn’s wide-eyed stare, he just shrugged. “We need protein. And food.

And I think better when I’m not hungry.”

“Whatever.” She tapped the screen. “It’s broken down in chunks—stanzas. I’m betting each stanza is a separate part of the clue.”

“I bet you’re right. So we start with the first part. Here, pass me your pad.”

He took it, then wrote out the first stanza.

Why do you run? What do you wish?

To prevent the Horrors, to shun the fate of a fish.

“I want to live and I wish this game were over. Especially this part right now. And I want to know what the hell is going to happen at ten.”

“Actually,” Devlin said, “I think that’s exactly what those first two phrases refer to.”

“Really? They’re literally asking me what I want? Why on earth would we be so lucky as to get a straightforward clue in a game as fucked up as this?”

“Because the gamekeeper wants you scared. And the second line is easy. It tells you exactly what’s going to happen at ten.”

“It does?”

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“Ever seeLittle Shop of Horrors ?”

“Sure. It’s not one of my favorites, but it’s fun. I like the movie a lot. I love Rick Moranis.”

“The dentist’s song. Do you remember it?”