Out of Sight (15 page)

“O
ne instruction,” Nat said. He closed the door behind them in a small, windowless room at the station. “It’ll save time if I can have you all look at what we’ve got together. But hold any comments until I split you up afterward.”

The door opened again and the Medical Examiner, Dr. Blades, stuck his familiar hollow-cheeked face into the room.

Gray Fisher had already moved into his usual negative thoughts about the man when he surprised him. “Fisher, a word. I don’t have much time.”

“Charming as always,” Gray muttered of the man he had dubbed Dr. Death back in the days when Gray and Nat had been full-time partners.

“Nat?” Blades said.

They joined him in the corridor outside. Nat had already made the mistake of grinning.

“Something funny, Archer?” Blades said. His stooped frame was still closer to seven than six feet tall.

Nat shook his head emphatically. “Not a thing.”

“Liar,” Gray said. “You didn’t expect my old friend here to want to speak to me. I’m back in the department, Doc. I know that’ll make you happy.”

Blades’s high, domed head shone. Beneath the bones where his eyebrows should have been, his haggard eyes flashed a hit of humor, something rarely seen.

“We need a more in-depth discussion but it’ll wait until you can get over to my place,” he said.

Gray didn’t have to ask what he meant by “my place.” Blades just about lived at the morgue.

“Sure,” Nat said.

“Something about our monster friends has been nagging at me for weeks. And something about the way they kill and what happens to the bodies afterward. The chief thinks he’s keeping things under wraps, but I know the Embran gradually deteriorate and the process gets faster after close contact with humans.

“They could be allergic to us in some way, simple as that. Or complicated as that. You think about what that could mean. Chief Molyneux’s story is that the reason I can’t see any of the subjects you people have captured in past months is because they’ve been quarantined in some secret clinic. That’s shit. Something weird goes on with them. I’ve got to get back now.”

He sloped away, gray jacket hanging from his hunched shoulders, and never looked back.

When they reentered the room Gray was not surprised to find Poppy, Sykes and Liam sitting silently on their folding metal chairs.

“I’d rather not show this to you, Poppy,” Nat said. “It’s difficult to watch, even for some of us who deal with this sort of thing every day. If you start to—”

“I won’t,” she said, but Sykes scooted his chair closer to hers.

“It isn’t long,” Nat said, sliding in a disk.

The camera was trained on the inside of what looked like a front door. Nat had already told Gray that despite poor light the scene was distinct enough to be identified as the foyer at Ward Bienville’s St. Louis Street house.

The front door opened and a male figure entered with a woman slung over his shoulder.

Gray glanced at Poppy.

What was left of the woman’s dress covered little of her body. Her shoes were gone. Rivulets of dried blood showed starkly against the white skin of her legs.

Liam exclaimed, but didn’t say anything clearly.

Poppy curled into herself, huddled on her chair, ignoring Sykes’s attempts to hold her hand.

The man set the body carefully on the stone tiles in the foyer. The dress hung in silver rags attached to the body only by one shoulder strap. Gray was grateful her face was indistinct.

Gray recoiled from the sight of the man standing back to survey the body. He looked at it from two directions before he loosened his shirt collar, and glanced up and around, smiling.

“That’s it,” Nat said.

“Did you find the murder scene yet?” Sykes asked.

“Yes,” Gray said. “The victim’s home. She was then brought to Ward’s house.”

“Let’s go through it again.”

“Let’s not,” Liam said.

“D’you want some water?” Gray asked.

“I want a shower,” Liam said. “We’ve got work to do first, though, right?”

“The lab got good stills from the surveillance tape,” Nat said. He got up and went toward the door.

“We don’t need stills,” Liam said. “Or I don’t.”

“Do you know who that man is?” Poppy asked him.

“No. At least, I don’t think so,” Sykes said.

“I do,” she said. “Not his name, but I’ve seen him before.”

“Me, too,” Liam said.

Gray saw Nat make the decision to let them talk if they wanted to.

Liam stared at Poppy and said, “He followed me into a bathroom at that fundraiser last night. I went to one for Ward. Don’t get mad—I just wanted to see the kind of people who were there. I worry about you.”

“You need to,” Sykes said. “You’re not the only one, either.”

“The night before last, at Ward’s.” Poppy nodded toward the now-blank video screen. “He served me champagne.”

T
hey left Gray and Nat behind and went out to the street. Poppy felt as if she wanted to start touching people, ordinary people, and greeting them just to hear normal voices saying meaningless things.

She wasn’t sure where to go, but it couldn’t be back to Fortunes.

“I feel sorry for Ward,” she said.

“Save it, Sis,” Liam said. “I’ll feel sorry for him when I’m sure none of this craziness has anything to do with him.”

“Go away!” Poppy said. “You’re so mean. Someone left Sonia’s body at his house to frame him but you’re still picking on him. I’m sick of it.”

“Tell me this…” Liam caught her by the arm and swung her to face him. “Look at me and tell me you really like the guy. Tell me you aren’t trying to prop him up because you always do prop up the underdog.”

“
Underdog?
Ward? He doesn’t even know the meaning of the word. He knew it was nothing to do with him.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Liam said. “Do you really like the guy?”

She glanced at Sykes whose face was averted. He stood motionless with his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t have strong feelings about Ward,” she admitted at last. “He wants me to be his friend, and I’m not mean to people.”

“Thanks,” Liam said. “Now will you admit that he seems to have dangerous stuff going on around him.”

She felt rotten about everything. “Maybe.”

“I did my best,” Liam said. “The more I try to persuade you to give the guy a miss, the harder you’ll hold on to him, so I give up. I had lunch with him and I think he’s a self-absorbed boor. I’ll see you later.”

He walked to the corner, turned left and headed away from the center of the Quarter.

“Now it’s your turn,” Poppy said to Sykes.

“You’re a big girl. You get to make up your own mind.”

She gave him a suspicious stare and stepped out of the way of a woman who was drunk and wearing enough gaudy beads to throw a less sturdy person off balance.

“I’m going back to my flat at Millet’s,” Sykes said. “Why don’t you come with me? You could check in with Marley to see how she’s doing and say hello to Pascal. He loves to see you and you haven’t been by much recently.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I managed to make myself unpopular.”

“The only one who knew that—until you told me—was you. And Willow. Willow doesn’t hold grudges. It’s time to let it go.”

“You’re so full of platitudes,” Poppy said. She crossed her arms and felt out of control of her behavior. “Why can’t you just be as nasty as you want to be sometimes?”

“I can. I don’t feel nasty right now. Sad, maybe. And worried about you. But not nasty.”

“Can you kill people with hypnosis?”

His expression turned guarded. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s been on my mind. Everyone knows you’re over-the-top talented, but what it is you do is hardly mentioned.”

He took a deep breath and moved closer to her, looking down while she had to raise her head to return the stare.

“You’re not yourself,” he said. “I don’t blame you. The tapes were horrible.”

She felt tears prickle and blinked fast. “I handled it fine.”

“Of course you did.”

“You’re not going to answer my question, are you?”

He studied her face for a while then said, “I can kill with hypnosis. The brain just stops and the subject dies. I would never use that kind of power except to save an innocent life. Are you satisfied now?”

She felt her face crumple and bowed her head. The
experience of watching that murderer had shocked her terribly. There was no point denying it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“There’s something I’m looking for. Ben was helping before he and Willow left for Kauai. Maybe you can come along and try being an extra pair of eyes and ears for me.”

Confusion scrambled her mind. “I don’t need sops to make me feel needed,” she said. “I want to be alone. Why don’t you just get lost. Leave me alone and get lost.”

She closed her eyes and covered her face. And she felt him walk away from her. At first she was going to call after him, but then she turned her back on the street and fought to calm her breathing.

“Sykes,” she said when she could, turning around.

She looked up and down Royal Street, stood on the curb staring in the direction of the Millet’s antique shop.

Sykes had done as she asked. He’d got lost.

It took Poppy twenty minutes of pacing up and down to admit just how ridiculous she felt but only another two to decide what to do about it.

She arrived at J. Clive Millet out of breath from running and hurried into the shop.

Pascal was there, a tray of fabulous jewelry on top of the counter while he explained each piece to a teenage boy with a black eye.

“Poppy!” Pascal saw her and his pleasure showed. “Hey, it’s a long time since you came to see me. Come and look at these.”

His trainer, Anthony, stood behind him looking even more cheerful than usual.

Poppy looked down on pins and lapel watches, bracelets loaded with diamonds and enamel, and unusual dress rings.

Pascal went into his office and took a ring box from the safe. When he brought it back he said, “Look at this one,” and pushed it onto the middle finger of her right hand. “It’s got a secret compartment for carrying your poison in.” He laughed.

Poppy smiled. “It wouldn’t hold much mad money.”

“With a ring like that why would you need mad money?” Anthony said.

“Maybe it was for carrying hartshorn,” Poppy suggested. “Isn’t that what ladies sniffed if they felt faint?”

“Clever girl.” Pascal beamed. “That’s what I was told. But I’ve always thought it was for poison. Makes a better story, too, only nobody can figure out how to open it. Those are old rubies, and they’re good. Hold them up to the light. Oh, sorry, this is David.”

The boy beside him, who also had a shaved head, smiled at her and held out his hand. She shook it thinking that the multiple piercings he wore looked out of place—although his clothes were all black and visibly old.

“Hi, David,” she said. “I’m Poppy Fortune.”

“She’s a family friend,” Pascal said. “David is my son, Poppy.”

Her smile fixed and she glanced at Anthony, only to find him grinning like the boy’s other proud parent.

“It’s super to meet you,” Poppy said to David. “Now I look at the two of you, I can see the likeness.” Apparently Pascal had made an exception with at least one woman.

“I know,” Pascal said, laughing. “He’s going to be taller than me but when he’s had a few weeks of eating properly, you’ll see just how much he’s like me.”

David seemed overwhelmed.

“Are you looking for Marley?” Pascal said. “She’s in her flat.”

“And madder than a wet hen at Nat for luring Gray back into the department,” Anthony added. “Rotten timing.”

“I, um, wondered if Sykes was here,” Poppy said.

Pascal and Anthony’s quick look at each other wasn’t quite quick enough for Poppy to miss.

“Yes, yes,” Pascal said. “He came through a while ago.”

“He did,” Anthony echoed.

“He looked pissed,” David added, and all became silent.

Poppy cleared her throat. “Thanks. I’ll go find him.” And she scuttled toward the French doors that led to the courtyard. “Oh, the ring,” she said, turning back.

“Wear it,” Pascal said, waving a hand. “It’s lucky.
I’ve always been told that. You wear it as long as you like.”

Poppy hesitated, but decided she’d give it back before she left rather than refuse Pascal’s kindness. “Thank you. I feel luckier already,” she said.

The first thin membrane of evening had slid a grayish fuzz over the courtyard. Poppy stood still and took in the beauty of the place. In a city filled with beautiful courtyards, this was the loveliest she had seen.

She looked up toward Sykes’s flat, then at Marley and Gray’s. Her resolve wavered. Sykes wouldn’t be unpleasant but he might be cool and she didn’t think she could handle that today. And if she went to visit Marley and he heard about it, he would know she had really come looking for him.

“Would it be okay if I got found now?”

She jumped at the sound of Sykes’s voice, then had to smile. “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “To find you and apologize for being a worm.”

He emerged from a dense stand of bamboo, the same one where she had found him on that day, months ago, when she had decided to confess how she had meddled in Ben and Willow’s relationship.

Mario bopped out behind him, his whiskers covered with dirt, and Marley’s Boston terrier, Winnie, followed, dragging a huge and yellowed plastic bone.

Sykes put an arm around her neck and hugged Poppy’s face into his shoulder. “Have I ever told you how much I like an outstanding worm? Very tasty.”

She put her arms around his waist and held on.

“Poppy, I don’t go around killing people for fun.” His voice was suddenly tight.

“Of course you don’t.” She eased away from him. “I shouldn’t have asked what I did.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you aren’t wondering if I thought of…you know I would never hurt you, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She stared at him. “It never crossed my mind. I want to help you look for whatever it is you’ve lost.” Her heart beat wildly.

The bluest eyes she had ever seen were very serious. Sykes was weighing the truth in her denial. “I never actually had it,” he said. “But it’s something we need to clear up. I’ll tell you why later—if you want to listen, that is.”

“I do. What are we looking for?”

He dug a tiny gold key out of his pocket and showed it to her. “With this one we’ve got four of them. I want to know what they unlock.”

“Four keys. For four different things, you think?”

“No. Probably one thing. It could be that we’ll need whatever these unlock to help with the Embran friends.”

Poppy shook her head.

“You need to know more about the Embran,” Sykes said. “That’s what we’ll talk about later. Over a really good bottle of wine. In my flat. Where I keep my etchings.”

Poppy laughed and poked him in the chest. “I know all about your etchings.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said and kissed her cheek. “You’ve only begun to explore my etchings.”

His expression changed abruptly, the smile disappeared and he glanced to his right, then back at her.

Mario whimpered and took off in the direction Sykes had looked.

“Do you hear anything?” Sykes said.

Poppy’s scalp tightened and her face felt stiff. “I don’t know. What sort of thing?”

He was already concentrating again. A light wind picked up, ruffling his hair and distracting Poppy. She could look at Sykes forever, or pretty much forever.

Shushing, or what sounded like several people shushing each other came to Poppy on the wind and she frowned, suddenly even more edgy. “Do you hear that?” she said, catching hold of Sykes’s sleeve. “Where are they?”

She could have sworn he gave her a satisfied glance.

The sound grew louder.

Scraping brought her attention to Winnie who made for a flight of stairs leading to the flats, her bone dragging on the ground. There was no sign of Mario.

“It’s happening,” Sykes said. “Ben used to tell me about it but I wasn’t aware of anything for a long time. Do you see it changing?”

His hand folding around hers was a relief. “I’m not sure. Do you mean the colors!”

“What are they?” Sykes asked, squeezing her fingers. “The colors.”

“They’re mixing together. Sliding down. Green and violet. And dark purple. Like they’re running over each other.”

“It’s something to do with the angels,” he told her. “There’s a particular one we’re supposed to find but I can’t. I keep looking at them but not one of them is right.”

“How do you know what the special one should look like.”

“I’ll explain,” he said. “Give me time on that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Help me look at them again. I think our angel has long hair. Nothing on her head, no headdress or anything like that.”

“How would you know if she has long hair?”

“Because I’ve started to see her.” He faced Poppy. “Why didn’t I know that until now? Of course I’ve started seeing her. That’s why the stone came.”

“You’re being very mysterious.”

“I don’t mean to. Look for an angel with long hair that sweeps away from her face.”

Poppy went to the first stone angel she saw. A veil completely covered her head. But there was something about her face that stopped Poppy. “She’s not the one but she’s lovely. She’s smiling.”

Sykes joined her. “Not usually,” he said without inflection.

A door slammed and they both looked up. Marley waved and started down the steps.

The closer she got, the more vivid her expression seemed. “Winnie ran upstairs to hide,” she said. “I figured something was going on down here. Where’s Mario?”

“Digging something up,” Sykes said. “How are you doing, Marley?”

“They’re here,” she said, her green eyes almost unfocused. “Listen. Oh, you can’t hear them, can you? I always wondered where they went and they’ve been here in the courtyard all the time.”

“You two are starting to scare me,” Poppy said. “That’s not easy to do.”

“What do you mean?” Sykes asked Marley.

She turned bright pink. “I have some, er, friends I call my Ushers. They talk to me when I need them, usually when I travel. This is the first time I’ve ever heard them when I wasn’t traveling.” She glanced at Poppy and swallowed. “Out of body, that is.”

“Yeah,” Poppy said. “Some people might think we’re a pretty weird lot. Imagine that. You’re not getting ready to…to go somewhere right now, are you?”

“Oh, no.” Marley rubbed her rounded belly. “Not at all, that wouldn’t be a safe thing to do.”

Sykes grinned at both of them. “This is a landmark occasion. There are three of us here and we’re all hearing the angels communicating.”

“You hear them, too?” Marley’s voice rose, then she
frowned. “The angels? You think the sounds are coming from the angels?”

“They are,” Poppy said.

“Yep,” Sykes agreed. “Ben told me about it for years but I didn’t hear it so I didn’t believe it. I wonder how long before we figure out the significance. Or if there is some significance at all.”