Better Read Than Dead (37 page)

Slowly I could feel my senses return; my breathing became more normal and the world had stopped spinning. I was now also aware that a small, concerned crowd had gathered, and the man next to me was speaking in slow, measured tones.

“That’s it, miss, just breathe as normally as you can. I’m a doctor, and you’re just having a little attack, but it’s almost over. That’s it . . . just breathe.”

I focused on the kind stranger still holding the bag over my mouth. My mind wanted to wander down dark paths, where the enormity of the loss I now knew about would take me down for the count. I fought that temptation with everything I had. I couldn’t lose it . . . not here . . . not publicly . . . not yet.

Finally I moved my hand up to the bag and gently pushed it aside. “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

“You’re welcome, little lady. Would you like to go to the hospital?” the kind doctor asked. He was an older gentleman with silver hair and a white beard, and even though he smiled reassuringly at me, his eyes held concern.

“No, really, I’m fine,” I said to him. “Just a little panic attack there. I just want to go to my room and lie down,” I said.

To my left a heavyset man with a bad comb-over and a name tag that read JIM MURRAY, MANAGER said, “Absolutely, ma’am. We’ll get you right up to your room. And don’t worry about your meal; it’s on us this evening, all right?”

“Thank you. That’s very kind. . . .” And even as I said this tears welled in my eyes, because no matter how hard I pushed against that dam of grief, it was still stronger than I was. Quickly I got up and with the help of the kind doctor walked on shaking legs out of the restaurant and to the elevator. There I assured the man that I was well enough to get back to my room by myself, and after hesitating a moment as he looked into my pleading eyes, the doctor nodded with a small smile and let me go.

A moment later the doors of the elevator opened and I rushed in, hugging myself as if I were going to fall apart at the seams. When I reached my hotel door I had trouble inserting the key card as tears dribbled down my cheeks and obscured my vision. I finally made it inside and shut the door. Sliding down to the floor I collapsed into great wails of agony.

It was hours later, and I was still on the floor. I was exhausted, but sleep was impossible. I’d been lying there, my face against the carpet for nearly an hour, trying to recall every detail of Dutch’s face, and for some reason I couldn’t remember him the way I wanted to. I could recall only the small things. Like the color of his eyes, the small dimple in his chin, the way his hair came to a gentle widow’s peak at the top of his forehead. But when I tried to back my mind away a little, to envision him whole, like a mental snapshot, his image grew fuzzy and blurred.

When I realized I didn’t even have a single physical photo of him to remind me of the way he looked, the agony was somehow sharper and more painful, like I’d betrayed him somehow by not carrying around a picture of the man I’d come to love.

I’d never told him about my true feelings for him either; and why I hadn’t done so eluded me. Was I so caught up in treading carefully and playing it cool that I’d missed the opportunity to let him know how much I’d fallen for him? Was I really that callous? That much of a goddamned coward?

I sighed into the carpet, these thoughts swirling in my head, and I just wanted them to stop. I lifted my chin and looked around the room, which was now completely dark. I sighed again and lifted myself to my knees, and then slowly, painfully as my cramped muscles protested, I stood up and loped over to the bed. I sat down and turned on the light, which caused me to squint and shield my eyes. After a time my eyes adjusted, and I looked blankly around the room. Just then my intuition buzzed. Angrily I turned my head to the side and mentally screamed at my crew. How
dared
they do this to me! How could they let someone I love
die
? What the hell good was being psychic if I couldn’t stop someone I loved from being killed? I raged.

I told my guides that I hated them, that I never, ever wanted to hear from them again, that I was through with readings, and tuning in, and—

“Screw you!” I said out loud.

“Back
off
!” I practically shouted, holding my hands over my ears as if someone were in the room trying to talk to me.

The thought wouldn’t go away. It swirled around and around in my head, despite my best efforts to ignore it. Finally, irritated beyond measure, I stomped over to my purse and brought it back to the bed. I looked in it and saw nothing unusual.
See?
I said in my head.
There’s nothing here!

I gritted my teeth and growled, turning my purse upside down and dumping the contents onto the bed. I stared at the objects dully, waiting for a hint as to what I was supposed to be looking for, when my eye fell on the folded piece of paper that was the second page of the police report from Dora’s file. Curiously I picked it up and opened it, skimming quickly through the details. Something tickled my brain, and I slowed my reading down and began at the top again, taking my time to reread it slowly.

The report was mostly Demetrius’s account of the events of that day. His mother had picked him up from school and told him they needed to run some errands. Demetrius had complained that he wanted to go home and watch
G.I. Joe,
but his mother had insisted that he come along for the errands.

The officer had taken great pains to document every detail of the little boy’s statement, and that was when I noticed why Madame J had stolen this page. Dora had told Demetrius a story about when she was his age and her nanny had taken her on her first airplane ride to visit her nanny’s family in Texas, and how excited she was about flying in an airplane. I wasn’t sure what prompted the story, but Dora was probably preparing Demetrius for their escape. At the time Dora probably thought it was harmless to mention her nanny, but later when Dora ended up living with her, it became a crucial clue, and one Madame J needed to hide from Andros.

I read the page all the way to the bottom, and something compelled me to read it again. I was missing something . . . and then, with a small gasp, I had it, and for me it was the final straw.

It’s hard to say what motivates a person to want to end another’s life. Some people could never be pushed that far; others need no reason at all. I can only speak for myself, and for me it took an attempt on my life, the destruction and devastation of my home and business, the murder of the man I loved, and now . . . the realization that Andros’s evil extended far beyond the borders of my own world, reaching deep into the hearts, homes and lives of others who were only innocent by-standers. That moment turned my heart black, my resolve to steel, and my mind to one purpose.

Without further ado I reached for the phone.

 

Despite the wind and rough weather our pilot gave us one hell of a smooth landing. As the plane taxied over to the gate I stared blankly out the window with a hollow feeling eating out my insides. I was numb, but resigned to the task at hand. The dichotomy of that mixture would normally have made me ponder the meaning of life. At the moment all I wanted to do was get on with it already.

I waited my turn and exited the plane with the others, avoiding eye contact and holding my duffel bag awkwardly in front of me so as not to catch it on the seats as I deplaned. The pilot thanked me for flying Northwest. I gave him a curt nod and moved on.

I got to the terminal and luckily had to walk only a short distance to the tram that would take me to baggage claim. I had no bags to claim, but that was where I needed to go. I glanced at my watch; we were early, which was neither good nor bad. The tram stopped and I followed a large crowd down the escalator across a long hallway and down another escalator. I went through a small door for exiting passengers and smiled when I saw that my escorts were already here, waiting.
Good.

I walked forward, acknowledging them with only my eyes as Gargoyle took up my right, Goblin my left, and Grim fell in step from behind. We walked a short distance to the same silver sedan with smoked windows that had been my chariot on other occasions, and without hesitation I got in and made myself comfortable.

Grim got in front opposite the driver, Gargoyle and Goblin got in on either side of me and without a word the driver took off.

We headed east, cruising at just above the speed limit, and I smiled at the irony of these big, bad Mafia types wanting to avoid a speeding ticket. Forty-five minutes later we reached the Kapordelis mansion, and I was instructed to leave my duffel in the car. Nonchalantly I shrugged my shoulders, which made my three escorts just a teeny bit nervous, I could tell. It had to be bugging the crap out of them that I was so cavalier about my obviously precarious circumstances, and it didn’t help matters that I continued to smile like the Cheshire cat.

Goblin held the door open for me as we entered the mansion, and I followed him as we wound our way through the house to Andros’s study. As we approached I could see that his door was already open, and as we neared I could also see the hit man who’d probably been the one who killed Dutch waiting in one of the wing chairs.
The more the merrier,
I thought.

Goblin stepped to the side and waved me into the study, and as I entered only Grim followed, while Goblin closed the door and waited outside with Gargoyle. Without pause I walked over to one of the chairs in front of Andros’s desk and plopped down, crossing my legs and arms and screwing up my face with the cockiest expression I could muster.

Andros was seated in his usual spot behind his enormous chair. He looked awful, as sweat soaked his white cotton shirt and dripped down his puffy face. His skin had a yellowish hue, indicating that jaundice had set in. I could feel the waves of intense pain flowing off of him, and I allowed myself not an ounce of pity. “Miss Cooper, it is so nice to see that you have escaped that unfortunate fire in your home,” he began.

“Yeah, I’m lucky like that,” I said, beaming a fake smile at him.

“It is unfortunate, however, that we must end this relationship. Sadly, you have not held up your end of the bargain, and I will be forced to dismiss you.”

Andros was a funny guy. He said the word “dismiss” as if he were merely discharging someone’s employment, rather than ordering their murder. “Hang on there, big guy,” I said, holding up my hand in a stopping motion. “Who says I haven’t held up my end of the bargain?”

“I beg your pardon?” Andros asked me, acknowledging me fully for the first time.

“Who says I haven’t held up my end of the bargain?” I repeated, more insistent this time.

“Miss Cooper, I have no time for games. You are clearly not the talent I am looking for, and you have failed in your assignment. These men will escort you—”

“As I recall,
Andros,
” I said, using his first name for impact, “my assignment was to find your wife, which I have done, by the way. So it is
you
who must pay up or be discharged, in my opinion.”

“You found Dora?” Andros said with a smile. He didn’t believe me.
Good.

“Yes.”

“Then where
is
my beloved wife?” Andros asked, looking around the room mocking me. “After all, I would love to accept you at your word, Miss Cooper, but you see, I am a skeptical man. . . .”

“So you don’t believe me?” I asked, leaning in and holding Andros’s beady little stare.

“No.”

“She flew back with me on the plane. If your henchmen had been a little more observant they would have seen her walk down the terminal with me,” I said, laughing and pointing a wagging finger at Grim, who suddenly looked exceedingly nervous as Andros and his hit man both turned to look at him.

“I didn’t see anyone with her, Mr. Kapordelis. She was alone,” Grim said quickly.

“Well, of course you didn’t see anyone with me, Grimmy-boy. You had eyes only for me. Too bad too—you could have saved Andros from having to take a car ride.”

Andros looked back at me with a scowl that could freeze a polar bear. “Miss Cooper, I’ve had enough of this. Sal, dispose of her. . . .”

Grim jumped forward and jerked up my arm as he began lifting me out of the chair. I decided it might be best to get to the point. “If you don’t believe me then call her!” I shouted.

Grim heaved me clear of the chair and began to pull me over to the door. “She’s got my cell phone!” I shouted. “Call my cell phone! She wants to meet you, Andros, and she’s got your son with her!”

Grim paused for a moment, the shock of my statement reverberating through the room. “What are you talking about?” Andros asked me as I stood on tiptoe, still gripped by Grim.

“Have him let go of me and I’ll tell you the whole sorry story,” I said. Andros waved at Grim, who released me like a hot potato, and after I had straightened out my clothing and walked back to the chair I sat down and again crossed my legs and arms and began. “Okay, I found Dora. She was down South. Remember how I told you there was a fourth son? Well, when Dora disappeared she was pregnant. She left because she was afraid of you, but she feels terrible about it, and now that she knows about your condition she wants to see you, and she wants her son to know his father before it’s too late. Now I’ve met this young man, and I gotta tell you, Andros, he’s a perfect fit to carry on your legacy. I’ve looked into his future, and he’s a shining star....”

A small tic formed just above Andros’s left eye, punching his eyebrow up and down as he looked at me and considered what I’d just told him.

“If you don’t believe me then make a phone call,” I urged. “I gave Dora my cell phone; just call the number and when she answers ask her a question only she could know the answer to,” I prodded. He had to take the bait, but I couldn’t appear too anxious, so I sat back and waited for him to decide what to do.