Firebird (23 page)

“You say a lot with the things you
don’t
say,” she said finally.

“And you see too much with those eyes of yours.”

He closed the pad gently and held it out to her.  “You’re playing with fire when you look into a man’s soul, Alexandra Marik.  You might not like what you find there.”

In the shifting twilight, their eyes met.  Held.  Shadows sharp on his face, a dangerous light in his eyes.  She remembered, suddenly, a chilling line from a short story she’d read. 
If a man locks eyes with you, he’s either going to sleep with you or kill you.

Just breathe.

Clutching the sketches to her chest, she turned away.  She felt his eyes on her as she ran across the terraced stones.

CHAPTER 25

“an erring sister...”

Lord Byron

It was raining hard once again by the time the cab wound its way through the traffic and narrow streets of Adams Morgan, an eclectic D.C. neighborhood known for its ethnic food and all-night clubs. 
Club 1215
was a dark brownstone in an even darker alley.  Rain pelted their skin, sharp as needles, as they ran across the wet pavement toward the blue sign blinking above the door.

Alexandra glanced up at the bright neon script blurred by mist, and her eyes widened with shock.  “Good Lord!  Garcia, look. 
Appearing tonight – Satin
.”  She swiped the rain from her lashes as she looked up at him.  “I told you that Eve mentioned satin in her recording - she said, ‘I’m counting on satin.’  I thought she meant a fabric, nothing important.  But it’s a
woman’s name
.  And we’ve found her.”

The lush, husky notes of a saxophone drew them inside and enveloped them in smoky warmth.  The Blues club was dark and sexy and smelled of whiskey and cigarettes and subtle, earthy perfume.  Garcia checked their raincoats, then steered her toward a tiny candle-lit table hidden in a shadowed corner.  The waiter appeared silently at Alexandra’s elbow. 

“Good evening,” she said.  “Will you point out Satin to me?”

“Of course,” he murmured.  “When she arrives.  And y’all will have?” 

“Chesapeake crabs and mussels,” answered Garcia, “and a bottle of good Chardonnay.”

“Seafood, at this hour?”  Alexandra shook her head.  “I was thinking more - salad and coffee.”

“I was in court all day,” growled Garcia, “and I need real food.  Do all New York women eat nothing but lettuce?  No wonder you’re so damned thin.” 

“I’m just not reckless!” she shot back.  “Did you send any bad guys up the river today?”

He looked away.  “Today I had the privilege of promising jurors evidence that I don’t really have.  How’s that for manipulation of our noble judicial system?”

She arched an eyebrow, surprised.  Another glimpse of the darkness.  “So you’re not Perry Mason.  But it’s still better than securing freedom for criminals.” 

“Damned with faint praise?  Touché.”  He gazed around the darkened club.  “This place reminds me…” he said softly.

“Of criminals?”

He flashed her a ‘give me a break’ look.  “I was an Assistant District Attorney in Boston for several years.  Drug trafficking, organized crime, racketeering.  High profile.  We used to unwind in a club very much like this.”

“Is it so different at Justice?”

“Bigger bad guys, so no time for jazz.  Criminal Division, and then - ”  He stopped, looked down.  In the shadows, she couldn’t see his face.

“And then?”

He turned to her with a hard stare.  “And then a woman with wild red hair fell into my life and turned it upside down.”    

Okay, she thought, he’s entitled to his secrets.  God knows I have mine.  Deciding to ignore his mood, she slid her glasses over her nose and checked her cell phone for messages in the dim light. 

“You don’t ever stop, do you?” said Garcia.

She looked at him.  “I still have a job back in New York, Garcia.  A daughter to protect.  And I’m trying to keep track of my niece, which isn’t easy, believe me.  She’s furious that your female agent has shown up to” – her fingers made quotes – “‘invade her privacy.’  Apparently I’ve ruined her life forever.  But she did ask about you and Hoover.”  Alexandra smiled in the darkness.  “Tomorrow is Juliet’s sixteenth birthday.  I was hoping to get back to New York.  Do teenagers still like birthday cakes?  It’s so hard being away, and I - ”  Her voice trailed off.

“And you miss your kid.  Little Red.”

She smiled.  “Like crazy.  I
hate
being away from her.  Is it that obvious?”

He was silent for a moment.  “I could see it in your drawing of her.  All that love, and longing.”

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze.  “All the more reason to wrap this up,” she said brusquely. 

He sat back in his chair.  “Everything is on hold until we talk with Satin.  So we have time to have dinner, time for you to bring me up to speed.  Tell me about Billie Jordan.  How did your meeting go at the church?”

“It’s a shelter, Garcia.  And not a gun in sight!”  She flashed a look at him.  “Billie’s an interesting woman.  I liked her.  She and Eve were close.  So close that she knew about the relationship between Eve and her half-brother – and Eve trusted her.”  She held out her hands, palms up.  “She knows something, I’m sure of it.  Billie doesn’t believe that Eve committed suicide any more than we do.  But she wasn’t ready to trust me.   I’ve been waiting all day for her phone call.”

The waiter returned with the wine and poured two glasses.  Turning his back on Garcia, he bowed deeply toward her.  “For you, Pretty Laydee, I will bring our specialty house salad,” he said, his Creole eyes glinting with appreciation before he moved away.

“Pretty Laydee?”  Garcia lifted his glass to her, drank, and smiled with amusement in the candlelight.  “I do believe our waiter is flirting with you.  He finds you attractive, Red.” 

“Good grief, Garcia.  I’m not attractive, I’m a
curator
!”

“I haven’t seen you look flustered before.  It’s a good look for you.”  Laughter rumbled in his chest.

“Don’t get used to it.  It’s just - Eve flirted enough for both of us!”

He leaned back, crossed one booted foot over his knee, and looked at her speculatively over the rim of his wine glass.

Her stomach tightened. 
I should have ordered a whiskey
, she thought suddenly, glaring at him.  “Flirting is for women who believe in romance, Garcia.”

He cocked a surprised eyebrow.  “And you don’t, Alexandra?  Why is that?”

“Stop doing that!”

He gave her a look of choir boy innocence.  “Doing what?”

“Throwing a personal question into the middle of every professional conversation.  We were talking about Eve.”

“Ah.”  He shrugged without apology.  “It’s the lawyer in me, Red.  You and Eve are still connected in more ways than you realize.” 

“Wrong tree, Counselor.  Eve loved men.  She was always trying to get someone to love her.  But I’m done with relationships.  Men are more interesting in art than in real life.”  Her words were vehement, and solemn as a vow.  “My name, Alexandra, means ‘warding off men.’”  She gave a rueful smile.  “Prophetic.  I’m a card carrying ‘Don’t love me’ woman now.  Never again.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes.  “I get that, sure.  Romantic illusions are for old movies.  But - not even the occasional date?”

“The last time I had a date, Garcia, it was in a Turkish fruit salad at the Carnegie Deli on Seventh Avenue.  My life is all work and Ruby.  Hiding from life
work
s for me, it’s the way I want it.  I don’t need anything – or anyone - else.”  She stopped, took a breath.  “I hate talking about myself!  I’m really bad at it.”

“You think so, Chica?”  There was an odd light in his eyes.  “There’s no great sweeping romance waiting in
my
cards, either.”  He started to say something else, then thought better of it and turned away to gaze at the empty stage.

“Oh, no, Counselor,” she said softly, touching his sleeve.   “It’s your turn in the witness box now.  You don’t get to take a pass here.”

“I don’t talk about my feelings.”

“If I can, you can.”

“You are a challenge, Alexandra Marik,” he muttered.  He raised a sardonic brow.  “Esta bien, you prefer that I incriminate myself?  Fair enough.”  He took a deep swallow of wine.  “Once upon a time I believed that there was someone you were meant to spend the rest of your life with.  I believed in the power of redemptive love.  But I know better now.  The more you have to live for, the more you have to lose.  Romance is dangerous for me.  And only a fool falls hopelessly in love across a crowded room.” 

His brutal honesty threw her.  It was the last thing she’d expected to hear.  Somehow she managed to say, “Finally, we agree on something.”

“That’s a fact.   So now I only date women with big hair who want
no
talk and
no
ties.  And no children.”  He held up his glass, eyes locked on hers.  “To ‘No-Happily-Ever-Afters.’”

The waiter appeared with their food, and Alexandra was relieved to end their unsettling conversation.  Bad idea to talk about personal lives.  For God’s sake
, romance
?  She didn’t even know what romance
was!
  Except, apparently, that it had been dangerous – and redemptive? - for Garcia.   She was shocked to realize, suddenly, that she wanted to know why.  Irritated with her unexpected reaction, she turned away to gaze up at the waiter.  “Has Satin arrived yet?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he promised.  “Enjoy your salad, my lovely Laydee.”

Garcia’s eyes followed the waiter.  “It’s possible he knew your sister, especially if she was a regular.  I’ll talk with him before we leave.”

“Good idea.”  Back on firmer footing now.  She took a bite of her salad.  “And I want to follow up on something tomorrow before I return to New York.  I met with the detectives today.  Eve died in Great Falls Park, but the taxi driver took her to an inn that night.  The River Falls Inn.  It’s about a mile away from the river.  They kept it from the media.”

She thought of the note she’d found in her sister’s bedroom. 
Meet me tonight, after eleven, near the river.  You know the place
.  “I want to talk to that driver.”

“I’ve read the official report.  The police went to the inn, Alexandra.  And they questioned her driver.”

“About a suicide, yes.  But I found the cab receipt -” she took a deep breath - “among her things.  It doesn’t cost $200.00 to drive ten miles from Georgetown to Maryland’s Great Falls Park.  I want to know where else they went, and what that driver told the police.”

He set down his fork, raised an eyebrow.  “You could be on to something.  Worth checking out.” 

Three wizened old black men settled on the stage.  Coltrane’s soft jazz spilled into the room, and Alexandra looked around the darkened club.  “This is my sister’s kind of place,” she said softly. “And somehow I think Eve knew I’d find my way here.”

“Why, because of a ‘sister connection’?  You and Eve were that close?”

Her head swung up.  

“Ah,” he said, “I can see by your face that you weren’t.”

“We were close, once.  Eve gave me my first artist’s paints.” 
You have eyes the color of a misty Maine morning, Zan.  This color, here, in your paint box.   “
And that sketchpad you saw.  I adored her, followed her everywhere.  Until...”

“Until?”

She gazed down at her salad, not ready to answer.  “Ironic, isn’t it?  The sister whose love I lost has made me remember how much I was loved once.  And how much I loved her.”

He was very still and those dark, serious eyes on her were as intense as a touch on her skin.  She looked away self-consciously.  Her sister had been right about his damn magnetism.  But these ‘moments’ between them were too damned unsettling.  Very deliberately, she shifted her chair to put more distance between them, and then turned to him.  “What?” she demanded.  “What are you thinking?”

“Just wondering what makes you tick.”

She shrugged.  “How can two sisters be so different?  Eve was so electric, so daring, always getting into trouble.  And taking me with her!  I was the younger one, but I was always watching out for her, giving in to her, protecting
her
.  Even after she crawled inside a bottle of Jack Daniels and refused to come out.”

“Fate?” he said.  “DNA?  Or just different choices…”

She shrugged.  “We had to raise ourselves.  We had each other.  But then - ”

“But then?” he prompted.

She pushed a hand through the spikes of hair.  “I fell in love for the first time my seventeenth summer. 
But then
he met Eve.  They eloped just before my birthday.”  Her lashes came down to hide the hurt.   “My sister loved men.  But I think it was more about the power rush, the danger.  The same reason she loved heights, said it was closer to flying.”

“So you just let your sister take the man you loved without fighting for him?  Betrayed by the sister you adored... but perhaps she did you a favor, Chica.”

Staring into her glass, she shook her head slowly.  “Or maybe love just turned into anger.”

“Anger hides hurt, Alexandra.  You know it.  It hurts to love someone who is never going to stop disappointing you.”

She stiffened, staring at him.

He leaned closer.  “But I think there is more.  Much more you are not saying.” 

She turned away from him, looked at her watch.  “Where is our waiter?  Satin should be here by now.”

“I finally talk about feelings, you talk about waiters.”  His eyes looked like dark clouds reflected in the sea.

She shifted uncomfortably.  “Because talking to you is like trying to cross a frozen lake in early spring,” she said darkly.  “With every step I take, the sounds of ice cracking beneath me grow louder and louder.”

“Sink or swim,” he murmured.  He smiled down at her.  “Come, you can’t stop the movie before the big moment, Red.  So what did you do when your sister stole your life?”

Just shoot me, she thought.  “I made a new life for myself.  I went to Berkeley, got my masters in Fine Arts, stayed in California and worked and painted.”  She looked away.  “And three years ago I married a man who’d never heard of Eve Marik Rhodes.”