The Rich and the Dead (5 page)

“Please, Detective,” he implored. “Hear me out. If you aren't interested in my offer, I'll understand. Conrad will drive you home. You'll never hear from me again. Just five minutes, I promise.”

Her curiosity getting the better of her as usual, Lila sat back down. But this time she curled her legs up in the chair, giving her quicker access to her gun, just in case.

“First,” Teddy said, turning to face her, “how much do you know about the Janus Society?”

O
N THAT FATEFUL
New Year's Day when the Star Island killer struck, the world lost more than the twelve wealthy and influential individuals who were found dead in Chase Haverford's wine cellar. Though it was unknown at the time, the world had also been robbed of its greatest philanthropic organization—the Janus Society.

Founded in the infancy of the twentieth century, the Janus Society was an international charitable organization whose works were so admired that it had come to be known as the world's fairy godmother. Thanks to its donations, famines had been stopped, polio nearly eradicated, the ancient libraries of Timbuktu preserved, the Bolshoi Ballet saved from bankruptcy, oil spills contained, children educated, faltering economies salvaged, dying languages preserved, and on and on.

Every year on January 1, the society announced the recipient of its annual $100 million donation. Charities and environmental organizations worldwide often spent their New Year's Eve praying, hoping, that this would be their year. It was not unusual to hear of people waiting on their knees by the phone, begging for a call from the Janus Society. It had been named for a Roman god, the god of beginnings, and it provided countless opportunities for millions in need across the globe.

But the Janus Society had one extremely controversial feature: complete and utter secrecy. Not once in the hundred years the charity had been in operation was the identity of a single member exposed. Thus, people said, its donations were truly unbiased. No one could lobby the society to be picked, because no one had any idea who was even in the society, or where it was headquartered, or how many members it had.

So, when the Janus Society failed to announce the recipients of its annual donation on January 1, 2015, no one knew what to do or whom to call. It wasn't until the news of the Star Island massacre broke that people began putting two and two together. By the time that forensic accounting confirmed it, the media had been saying it for days: the Star Island twelve were the members of the Janus Society. And so the murders became the crime of the century.

I
KNOW ENOUGH
,” Lila said in answer to Teddy's question, watching as he walked to the wall of windows overlooking the ocean. He slid open an enormous glass door, filling the air-conditioned room with a damp, ocean-scented breeze.

“Here's a question,” Teddy said, changing the subject. “When you're in pursuit of a criminal, what's the most important yet most quickly depleted resource you have at your disposal?”

“Patience,” Lila shot back. “I'm running quite low on it now, as a matter of fact.”

“What I'm talking about,” Teddy went on, ignoring her, “is time. When you're solving a case, time is of the essence, isn't it? The more time passes, the farther the murderers can run, the hazier the memories become.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Time goes on and people just want to forget about the past. Especially if it involves something like a mass murder.”

After a long pause, Teddy sat back down in the chair next to Lila. “Exactly how long did you look for the Star Island killer?”

“A little over two years.”

“And why did you stop?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Lila asked impatiently.

“There is,” Teddy assured her. “Just tell me why you left the force.”

“My chief pulled me off the case. But I'm guessing you already knew that.”

Teddy nodded.

She continued, “He said I'd burned too many bridges. That I was doing more harm than good. After that, I knew it was time to go. I mean, what's the point if the bad guys get away with it?”

Silently, Conrad walked across the room and slid the door shut. The room instantly became ice cold once again.

“So you gave up?”

“I didn't have a choice. I wasn't getting anywhere. My chief was right. I'd pissed off too many people. No one likes it when a cop comes knocking on their door,” Lila said. “But the rich seemed to take particular offense.”

“It's not that we take particular offense,” Teddy said with a smile. “It's just that we can usually buy people's silence. It's one of the few really valuable things that can be bought in this world.”

Lila let out an exasperated sigh. “You said all you needed was five minutes. So tell me. Why am I here?”

“I've already told you. To catch the Star Island killer, once and for all.”

“What makes you think this time will be any different?”

“This time,” Teddy said with a hint of a smile on his lips, “you're going to solve the murder before it happens.”

Lila let out a sudden snort of laughter. “And how exactly would I do that?” she asked in a mocking tone.

“Forget about that for now,” Teddy replied. “Let's just say it's a given. What if you could go back to several months before the murders. Do you think you'd be able to catch the killer?”

For once, Lila was at a loss for words. What was he getting at?

“Do you?” he asked again, emphatically.

“Yes,” she blurted out. “Of course I could. Knowing what I know now, I'd be able to find that sick fuck in a matter of seconds.”

At that, Teddy began to nod his head, a smile lighting up his face. “I knew you were the right person,” he said.

“The right person?” Lila repeated, still uncertain what he was getting at.

“What I'm about to tell you may sound unbelievable.” Teddy looked directly into her eyes, holding her gaze. “You're going to go back in time to find the Star Island killer.”

“Oh, God.” Lila closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her temples. For a brief second, she'd let herself hope that Teddy had found some new lead, that he might actually have something for her. She scolded herself for her stupidity.

“Of course you don't believe me. I understand.” Teddy stumbled over his words, talking quickly and anxiously. “But if you'll just let me prove it to you—”

“Listen,” Lila interrupted. “I don't have time for this. I've had a long night. So if you'll excuse me.” She stood up from her chair and walked toward the door to the garage.

“Of course.” Teddy's expression was unreadable. “Conrad will drive you home.”

Lila kept her eyes glued to the black partition as Teddy's car carried her back to reality. She kept replaying the scene in her head, the fact that Teddy thought he could actually send her back in time, the way his eyes had lit up with excitement as he described his plan to her. Well, she thought, the history books are full of rich people losing their minds. And now Teddy Hawkins was just one more eccentric billionaire gone over the edge.

But why was Teddy so fixated on the Star Island case? Maybe he'd lost friends in the massacre. Maybe he was worried for his own safety. Maybe—she cut off her speculation. Who cared anymore? If he wanted to take over the search for the Star Island killer, then good for him. Lila wanted nothing to do with it.

Let him walk into the labyrinth,
she thought. She knew from experience that there was no coming out in one piece.

CHAPTER 6

L
ATER THAT EVENING
, Lila was curled up on the threadbare couch in her apartment, staring blankly at the TV. She'd been in a state of agitated numbness all day, ever since her meeting with Teddy. Her thoughts were racing, but the rest of her felt lethargic and exhausted. She blamed Teddy. All the memories she'd tried to erase from her mind had been churned up by him and his ridiculous plan.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Not again.” She cursed, securing the tie of her silk robe around her waist as she quickly walked to the door. But no one was there. All she found was a large manila envelope sitting on the concrete landing.

Lila quickly grabbed the envelope and, shoving aside her slight hesitation (didn't danger always lurk in strange packages left on doorsteps?), tore it apart. Inside was a
Miami Herald
and a note that read:

Lila. You are holding in your hands proof that time travel exists. This is tomorrow's newspaper. I am writing to you from the future. Now do you believe?

—Teddy

“This guy is relentless,” Lila said aloud as she inspected the newspaper. True enough, the date on the paper was tomorrow's date—July 21, 2018—but after all, Teddy Hawkins was a man with unlimited resources. How hard could it be to manufacture a fake newspaper?

Then she had a thought. The lottery results. As she flipped through the paper and found the numbers, Lila looked up at the clock. It was 11:15
P
.
M
. Her heart racing, holding the night's Mega Money lottery numbers in her hand, she turned on the TV, switching channels until she found the one she wanted. A smiling woman in a red dress stood behind a Plexiglas cube full of airborne balls that bounced like kernels in a popcorn popper.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Mega Money lottery drawing for tonight, July twentieth,” said the woman. Her teeth were refrigerator white and her hair was teased into a hysterical meringue. “All right, then. Let's get to it.”

One by one, five balls were sucked away from their furious tumbling and shot up a Plexiglas tube. “The numbers for tonight are: twelve . . . five . . . two . . . thirty. And the Mega ball number is . . . thirty-seven.”

Lila looked down at the paper she was holding. There, in her hands, were the same numbers: 12-5-2-30-37.

“Impossible,” she whispered.

Could Teddy have rigged the lottery? Maybe that was how he'd amassed such spectacular wealth, and now he was simply toying with her. Maybe this TV broadcast was closed-circuit, made only for her benefit as part of an elaborate hoax. Anything seemed more likely than the notion that, all by himself and without any media attention, Teddy Hawkins had built a time machine in his glass mansion by the sea.

She checked the lottery numbers online, just to make sure all the facts lined up. A mixture of shock and something closer to dread flooded through her when she saw that the numbers were exactly the same.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, the pink dawn light slanted into the living room as a mockingbird started to sing out in Lila's run-down corner of Miami. She still sat on her old couch, her bare feet up on the cluttered coffee table, the newspaper from the future spread across her lap. Sleep had been an impossibility. She'd spent the night reading through the paper, looking for anything—a clue, a mistake, a slipup in the forgery. But all she'd found were more questions.

Profound fatigue made her body feel almost weightless. Just as her eyes were starting to close at last, there was a loud knock at the door.

She looked at her watch: 6:18
A
.
M
. There was no question in her mind as to who was doing the knocking. Rising slowly from the couch, Lila walked to the door and unlocked it. She turned back toward her bedroom, calling out over her shoulder, “Hi, Conrad. I just need a minute to get dressed. Then we can go.”

In a little under an hour, Lila was back at Teddy's estate. Conrad led her behind the house to the pool.

“Mr. Hawkins is finishing his morning swim. It shouldn't be too long a wait.”

Lila perched on the corner of a chaise longue, watching Teddy's form cut through the water, lap after lap, as if he was part sea creature. A tiny woman in a crisp white apron and with the kindly face of a Beatrix Potter squirrel brought over a tray burdened with fresh fruit juices, coffee, and an entire boulangerie's worth of croissants, brioche, and other baked goods.