The Profiler's Daughter (Sky Stone Thriller Series) (27 page)

Sky hit the send button and said, “Kyle, someone is following me.”

She told him about taking Tiffany into the public garden, about seeing a figure in black, ducking into the Four Seasons parking garage.

“Who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re seeing things, darling.” Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated and took a swig of beer instead.

“What?” Sky pushed.

“I’m worried.”

“About this case?”

“About
you
, darling. You see strangers lurking everywhere. You fell apart on me back there at the Four Seasons. And those pills you’re taking …” His eyes went to the sleeping dog. “This Manville character makes me a little nervous, too. The guy has that urge to merge, if you catch my drift.”

Kyle pulled off his wire rims and started cleaning a lens with the handkerchief from his tux pocket. “Let’s say he is the killer, for argument’s sake. That makes him very dangerous. If he isn’t, why waste your energy?” He wiped the second lens. “Either way, its time for you to get the hell out of Dodge.”

Sky ignored him. “Why would someone be following me?”

“Hey! Are you listening to me?” The detective hooked the glasses over his ears. “Manville is connected, darling. I watched him for a while before I even knew who he was.” Kyle made a gesture to suggest a long chin. “Couldn’t take my eyes off that freakazoid Skelator mask.”

“A
bauta
,” Sky corrected him. “Very popular in medieval Venice.”

“Whatever. I’m telling you, that asshole knows
everybody
.”

The detective had a point. Manville knew the mayor. And Magnus. “He knows my cousin Forbes,” she said. “Apparently he’s pledged quite a chunk to Forbes’s gubernatorial campaign.” Sky ran her hand over the sleeping dog’s swollen belly. “And Manville won the Diamond Humanitarian Award. He has allies.”

“I rest my case. Friends in high places.” Kyle stuck the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “No doubt he has a flank of fucking lawyers a mile wide.”

“So what?”

“If he’s guilty, we’ll get him. Forgive me for feeling protective, but you’ve barely been back three days. You’re my muse, darling. I don’t want anything happening to you.” Kyle rubbed his bony forehead. “Please play this one by the book.”

Sky’s phone vibrated and she read Teddy’s response:
see u 1 hr

She smiled in spite of herself. Teddy kept gambler’s hours.

Kyle turned pessimistic. “That crime scene was so goddamn clean.” He poked absently at the sheets of data on the table. “Maybe CSI will give us something. We’re still waiting for footprint results. The killer had to be wearing shoes, right?”

“Don’t count on it.” Sky massaged her right hand, where Manville had squeezed. “He choreographed this murder, Kyle.” She told the detective about Manville’s Harvard BA and the seven years spent learning the pharmaceutical business. “He’s a meticulous planner. And there’s something else.”

“Yeah?” Kyle stopped poking the data.

Sky searched for the right words. “Manville knows.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows that
I
know. That he strangled Nicolette. It turns him on. I can feel it.” The touch of Manville’s fingertip on her shoulder blade lingered, where he’d traced the outline of her fairy tattoo. “He’ll make a mistake.” Sky folded the rat data and stuffed it back in the evening bag. “I’m the chink in his armor.”

“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re joking.” Kyle’s mouth hung open and the unlit cigarette fell to the table just as Detective Axelrod appeared at the booth.

“Axelrod?” Kyle squinted in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s way past your bedtime.”

“I’ve got news. Hey, Doctor S.” The rookie detective brushed snow from each shoulder of his navy pea coat. The sight of Sky in the strapless gown seemed to make him uncomfortable and he gave his blonde cowlick a nervous pat. “Ellery Templeton was in Boston Sunday night. I just spoke with the drummer. At Genuine John’s.”

“That’s more like it.” Kyle’s relief was palpable. “That’s news we can use. Something concrete.” He shrugged at Sky. “Jilted lover. Templeton’s got motive. What’s your CEO got, besides a hard-on?” Kyle picked up the ruby-colored tote that Agnes Pickman had given Sky at the Four Seasons. “Here, Axelrod. As your reward, I bestow upon you this lovely purse.”

The rookie ignored the insult and began going through the tote. “Hey, this is cool.” He slipped the gold
David
mask over his face and kept looking. “And this,” he held up a gold key ring.

“Is that a real diamond?” Kyle snatched the key ring and studied it. “Diamond Ball. Golden Anniversary,” he read. “All yours, Axelrod,” he tossed it back.

The conversation woke Tiffany. The tiny dog tried to stand, but the sable made it difficult to gain purchase. She teetered in the fur, growling at Axelrod.

“What’s that?” The rookie peered in the direction of the Shih Tzu but the dog’s brindle coat virtually disappeared into the pile of mahogany fur.

“M’lady’s companion,” Kyle said. “Careful, Axelrod. She bites.”

Axelrod reached across Sky to pet the dog, but Tiffany’s growl escalated to a snarl and the rookie jerked his hand back.

Kyle shook his head with a resigned air. “You give me great pain, Grasshopper.”

A needle of doubt pricked Sky. Did Ellery lie to her? She took a gulp of the burgundy and tried to remember the musician’s exact words, but Axelrod had grabbed a chair and was sitting at the end of the booth staring at her. Which made it difficult to concentrate.

“Yes?” she said. “Can I help you?”

“It’s just that you look so … Your eyes are … And your lips …” His voice trailed off.

“Gorgeous is the word.” Kyle finished his Sam Adams and slammed the bottle down. “I feel your pain, Axelrod. I’ve been looking at her all night.”

A construction worker in a red plaid shirt hopped off his bar stool and walked unsteadily across the room to the ancient Seeburg jukebox. Soon the smooth strains of a Motown classic filled the pub,
Back Stabbers
by the O’Jays.

Kyle’s face brightened. “Hey, it’s not too late for that dance.” He stood up and came around to the other side of the booth. “Let’s go,” he pulled on Sky’s bare arm. “They’re playing my song.”

Kyle’s claim to the tune traced to his first failed marriage, the alleged theft of his youthful bride by a fellow police officer. ‘Never bring a cop home to meet your wife,’ Kyle was fond of saying. And the detective was as good as his word, no one in the department had laid eyes on any of Kyle’s subsequent spouses.

Kildare’s dance floor was basically the space in front of the juke box, enough room for maybe two couples if they didn’t move much. Kyle held Sky in a tipsy embrace and swayed as he sang to the music. Something about buddies who looked shady, with knives aimed at his back.

Sky closed her eyes and let Kyle lead.

She tried to focus on the interview with Ellery but thoughts of Manville kept intruding. Drawing him had given her an opportunity to study his face at close range, and what she’d seen was disturbing. The wide mouth personified avarice, but what sort? Sky couldn’t say. Men who lusted after women and power, that was nothing new. Men who lusted after money, an old story. But Manville’s greed had a different feel. And his pale eyes, with pinpoint pupils, not quite right. An image of the crocodiles in the animal facility at BU popped into her head, the topaz, reptilian eyes.

Cold-blooded. That was the word for Manville. Something not quite human.

“Darling,” Kyle whispered. “Couldn’t help but notice the amount you wrote on that bidding sheet back at the hotel. Fifty thousand dollars? For a lousy chess set?”

Sky ignored the unspoken accusation in Kyle’s voice, she’d heard variations of it her whole life: the rich were so frivolous. The truth was, Sky felt hopeful when it came to the bid, maybe she could rescue a little piece of her grandfather. The hours spent with Whip playing chess on that set were some of the happiest of her childhood. How like Izzy, to toss it out like so much garbage.

“It’s late, Kyle. Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

“No need. My wife’s at some Buddhist retreat in the Berkshires.” Kyle whirled Sky around with a flourish. “Gone for the rest of the week. Says she needs to de-stress, something about being a cop’s wife. Doesn’t care for the lifestyle.” He flashed a sardonic, gap-toothed grin. “She actually used that word. Lifestyle. In a text message. I got it while you were schmoozing in the caravan with Madame Tatiana.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Think the monks will enjoy her three-martini lunches?” Kyle whirled Sky around a second time and pulled her close. “I’m not sure why she feels the need to anesthetize her way through the second half of each day.”

I know why, Sky thought. Living could be a painful matter. No one’s fault, really.

“Guess I should be glad my only competition is vodka and cigarettes,” the detective continued. “But enough of my sad existence. Any tidbits from Miss Knows All Tells All?”

The babushka’s guttural voice, Madame Tatiana’s Egyptian eyes, the words of warning floated back to her. Sky’s fingers slipped beneath the diamonds and sapphires and found the amulet the old woman had hung around her neck. The tusk-shaped shells felt different somehow, as though they’d taken on the old crone’s clairvoyant energy.

“She gave me the usual reading. Lots of money and a handsome man just around the corner,” Sky lied.

“Psychics,” Kyle grunted. “Give me a break.”

"Get lost, O’Toole.”

It was Jake’s voice.

Kyle pulled away from her arms and Jake took over, enveloping Sky in a cloud of bourbon and cigar smoke. Before she had time to react, his arm was around her waist, her right hand tucked into his.

Another Motown tune started on the juke box, the Four Tops,
Baby I Need Your Lovin'
.

“You smell good,” Jake whispered.

Sky tried to pull away but he held her fast. Theresa Piranesi's image flooded back, the embrace in Jake's black Mustang. Sky wanted to scream the woman's name in Jake's face but it was too humiliating with Kyle and Axelrod so near.

“You’re drunk," she said. "Let go of me.”

“Your boyfriend was lying." Jake’s arm tightened across her back and his voice took a casual, playful tone. "He was in town all along. Fucking the drummer's wife.” Jake swung Sky in a clumsy circle. “Bring the girl in tomorrow. Maybe she can ID Templeton.”

"But Molly didn’t see the man’s face.”

“Maybe she saw it, maybe she didn’t.” Jake’s mouth was on her neck. The heat from his body burned through the gown's thin layer of silk and Sky's body responded.

“Give me my key," Sky pushed back.

“What key?”

“The key you used to get into my office last night.” Sky took an awkward step back on the pumps and put her hand out, palm up.

"You got it, babe." Jake dug into his pants pocket and extracted a loose copper key. "Get that kid in the station tomorrow for an ID. That's an order." He dropped the key in her outstretched hand and walked toward the pub door.

Sky stood with the key in her clenched fist and saw Jake turn around. Pain and anger were etched across his eyes and the look scared her.

Jake returned to the dance floor, so quickly that Sky pulled back and bumped the jukebox. The record skipped.

"Just so you know," Jake whispered in Sky's ear. "The lock doesn't exist that can keep me away." He turned and walked out of Kildare’s.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Fat flakes of snow floated through the night air.

Kyle and Axelrod escorted Sky the few steps from Kildare’s Pub to her office building. In one arm she carried the yellow gym bag, four pounds of Purina dog chow, and a leash – parting gifts from the Four Seasons hotel manager. In the other arm, her evening purse, the red tote, and Tiffany.

“Sure you’re okay? I’ll hang around if you’re feeling paranoid.” Kyle burped loudly and gave the dog a pat.

“I just need some sleep,” Sky said. “Go home.” She was expecting Teddy any minute and she wanted the detectives gone.

“Jake called a meeting, nine o’clock tomorrow morning.” Kyle climbed into the driver’s seat of the Crown Vic and rolled the window down. “Don’t be late, Cinderella.” He laughed as Axelrod slipped into the passenger’s seat.

Sky watched the men drive off and pulled her keys from the gym bag. She looked up and down Adams and checked the intersection again. Deserted. No people, no cars.

Kyle was right. She was being paranoid. Why would anyone stalk her? Sky left the street door unlocked for Teddy and climbed the steps to the second floor.

After rummaging in the galley kitchen at the end of the hall for clean dishes, Sky unlocked her office door and set bowls of fresh water and kibble on the floor. She dropped the bags next to the desk, switched on the floor lamp, and arranged the fur into a quick nest on one end of the sofa, for Tiffany.

Then, finally, she removed the diamond earrings, the Harry Winston necklace, the amulet. She kicked off the satin pumps and peeled out of the Balenciaga gown. Her fingers searched out and removed all bobby pins and she shook her head, savoring the sensation of loose hair on her bare shoulders. It had been a long night of corsetry and heels.

Tiffany crunched a few nuggets of kibble, lapped up some water, and jumped on the sofa. She collapsed into the fur and proceeded to track Sky’s every move with bulbous brown eyes.

Sky found the satin hanger that Francois had sent with her, celadon green with a ribbon bow and pearl balls at either shoulder. She hung the gown on the door hook and pulled a Turkish towel, a blow dryer, and a change of clothes from the yellow gym bag.

Still wearing the strapless silk slip, she trotted barefoot down the empty hall to the pink bathroom. After turning on the shower faucet, Sky pulled the slip off over her head and stepped into the pink tiled stall. She stood motionless as steaming water sluiced over her body.

She was glad to be out of the formal clothes and done with the evening’s performance. But where was the sense of relief? There were so many questions. Why would Manville kill Nicolette? Did Ellery lie to her? Sky lathered face and arms, breasts and belly with a bar of lemon verbena soap and thought about Ellery Templeton’s features. Not the eyes of a liar, she would have said. Axelrod’s revelation was troubling. Sky would talk to the musician. He was innocent, she knew it as surely as she knew Manville was the killer. Did Ellery take her advice? Did he have a lawyer? And Jake. She wouldn't think about him right now.