“Look at him,” I say. “We’ll never get him out of here.”
Leo and Vivienne are sipping brandy while Olive sings to them. Ms. Saunders has adopted the tolerant air of a slumming duchess but Leo is in his element. He’s enjoying himself. For the first time tonight he looks relaxed. I’d been aware of a constant hum of tension all evening but assumed that I was the one generating it. I can see now that attending the ceremony required an act of courage on Leo’s part.
Vivienne has demurred on the offer of a further nightcap in Leo’s lair and I’m escorting her to a taxi. I could have given Gritch the chore, but after insisting that Leo stay inside, he asked me as a personal favour to make sure his date was sent safely on her way. Andrew has signalled up a slightly spiffier vehicle than Josip’s cab and is holding the door.
“Do you tango, Mr. Grundy?” Vivienne asks.
“Not according to Ms. Gagliardi,” I say.
She sniffs at the name. Her night hasn’t unfolded as smoothly as it might have. She gives me a thin-lipped smile and takes the fifty-dollar bill. Cab fare.
Andrew looks me up and down. “That’s a splendid suit,” he says.
“Hope it likes mothballs,” I say.
A large man is weaving across the street in my direction.
“Didn’t waste any time, did she?” he yells at the departing taxi.
“Who would that be, sir?” I ask.
“My slut wife,” he says. “You the new one? Hope you’ve got lots of money. She likes money.”
He’s on my sidewalk now, close enough to breathe bourbon on my face.
“I assume you’re referring to Ms. Saunders,” I say.
“Shit!” he says with disgust. “Saunders already, is it? Christ!”
“Excuse me, sir,” I say, “I have to get back to work.”
He takes a lazy loopy swing at me, well off the mark, not worth blocking, and sits down heavily on the curb.
“Would you like me to get you a cab, sir?”
“I don’t need you to get me shit,” he says.
“Perhaps not, sir, but I can’t leave you sitting on the curb, the police will take notice. Why don’t you head on home?”
He snuffles. “Why don’t you just piss off!”
I can see Andrew signalling to a taxi and coming forward to take charge of the situation. He can handle it from here.
Olive has finished her set and retreated to her private corner banquette. Connie and Leo are missing.
“They went up, sugar,” Olive says to me. “Two minutes ago. With Gritch and the Impeccable Bulk.”
“I told them to wait.”
“Leo was feeling mellow. I think he wanted to show your girlfriend his mansion in the sky.”
“I used to be good at this job,” I say.
“You’re still good, Joey darlin’, but you need to loosen your tie.”
Olive tugs one end of the bow and unbuttons my collar.
“There. Now you look like Frankie Sinatra. With muscles.” She gives me one of her throaty chuckles.
“I’d better get up there,” I say.
The evening has given me a bellyache. I could use a cold beer and a quiet place to sit. Someone went to a lot of trouble to mess up Leo’s memento. That is worrisome. Not that Leo sets much store by such things and would probably have stuffed the plaque in a closet, but I wouldn’t want him to see it in its present condition. And the missing limo driver is gnawing at me as well. One way or another I need to find out what that was all about. At least Leo had a pleasant interlude in Olive’s. By now he’s probably helping Raquel serve canapés, pouring champagne.…
Wrong.
Connie is waiting as the elevator doors open and her expression tells me more than I want to know.
“Joe,” she says.
Leo is sitting on the floor with one leg bent under him. He’s leaning against the wall. His eyes are closed. Gritch is on the phone. Roland is standing in the kitchen doorway.
I cross the room and look past the young man. Raquel is lying on the kitchen floor. Her canapés are scattered. Her shiny plates and glasses are smashed. Her blood is pooled under her.
“I just checked for a pulse, Joe,” Roland says. “Didn’t touch anything else.”
“Oh, Jesus Lord,” I say.
“Cops are on the way,” says Gritch.
Connie is sitting with Leo.
“My fault,” he says. “My fault. All mine.”
“Fire stairs?” I ask Gritch.
“Locked,” he says.
“There’s a blood smear on the key pad,” says Roland.
“Got a pencil?” Roland hands me a ballpoint pen and I use the button end to punch in the security code and open the fire door. Seventeen flights of steel stairs straight down, poorly lit. And faintly echoing.
“Could be somebody going down,” I tell Gritch. “See if we’ve got a man on the ground floor who can get around to the back.”
“You chasing?”
“If my knee holds out.”
Not an idle concern. Since tearing the anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee over a year ago, I’ve been careful not to make the joint do more than it wants to. Fore and aft it’s working fine, but thumping down an endless metal stairwell is a heavier workout than it’s ready for.
I can’t hear the echoes any longer. If there was anyone they’re probably on the street by now. Whoever it is, I’ll never catch them anyway. What the hell, it’s something to do. Christ! She’s dead. Raquel is dead. Lying on the kitchen floor.
By the time I get to street level my knee is throbbing, my shirt is sticking, and I needn’t have bothered. The street is deserted, no squealing tires, no fading footsteps, nothing to do but make the long hike around to the side entrance. No more stairs tonight if I can help it.
At the corner I meet Todd, another of Rachel’s hirees, clean-cut, competent, and confused.
“Joe? Who am I supposed to be looking for?”
“Todd, I have absolutely no idea. Nobody ran past you?”
“Not a soul.”
“Okay. There’ll be police showing up pretty soon. Give Gritch a call, he’s up in the penthouse, he’ll have to come down and escort them. Go ahead. I think I’ll take a look down the block.”
“What’s going on?”
I don’t really want to tell him. “Call Gritch.”
The backside of the Lord Douglas runs north-south. Across the street is the parking garage with a skywalk to the mezzanine directly overhead. To my left are the hotel’s loading docks, dumpsters, service entrances, and at the far end, the fenced construction site where the War-burton building once stood and where a huge hole in the ground has been waiting for Leo and his son Lenny to work out who will own what percentage of whatever they decide to build there some day. Leo has a controlling interest in the property but the hotel’s costly renovations have forced him to hold off on a start date.
The covered walkway along the fence has grilled portholes for sidewalk superintendents to check on progress. Since the hole was excavated there