Because Leslie had known things. She had seen things. He wasnt certain that psychic was the word to describe her, but whatever shed been, shed been for real.
He waved a hand in the air. Hey, I was a horses ass last night, and it was inexcusable, he said.
No, once you werent so angry, you were kind of cute.
Kind of cute? Great. Just what hed always wanted to be. A kind-of-cute drunk.
Well, thanks for your forgiveness. And your couch.
Think nothing of it.
I need to get going.
Joe, theres a meeting tonight, she informed him, her eyes somber.
A meeting? Heaven help him, did she think he needed AA?
Of thethe Ravens.
He looked at her quizzically. On Saturday night? Date night? His tone was mocking; he was stalling her, he knew. Must be a wild bunch, he said.
Joe, were going.
No.
Joe, you promised last night that
He lifted a hand. Damn, she was persistent.
I said Id take the case, he told her. And Ill go to the meeting. But you arent going.
Of course I am! she said indignantly.
No.
Yes.
Genevieve
My mother is going to be there, Joe. Theres no way Im not going to be there, too.
He fell silent. What the hell was the matter with these people? If they all believed that Thorne Bigelow had been killed because he was a Raven, wouldnt anyone sane think that perhaps they shouldnt meet until the killer had been apprehended?
Its just stupid for them to be meeting, he snapped.
Stupid or not, its happening, Genevieve said. Besides, youre the one who said that the whole Poe thing is a smoke screen.
I said it could be a smoke screen.
Thatwoman said that another Raven would be dead in a matter of days.
Gen He winced, lowering his head. He wasnt sure if he was feeling the temple-pounding headache of a killer hangover, or a sense of mixed anger and dread. Gen was surely the most stubborn human being hed ever met. She was like pit bull on behalf of the underdog or any cause she believed in. She rushed in where the sane wouldnt go.
But he wasnt angry with her, only upset that people liked to play so casually with the fears of others by claiming to know the future.
He lifted his chin, eyes on fire, and pointed a finger at her. I said Id take the case, and I will. But youll listen to me.
I always listen to you, Joe, she said softly. That unnerved him.
Oh, yeah, she listened, in a perfect case of point notedand rejected.
Joe, honestly, I have to go tonight.
And you think the Ravens are just going to discuss some favorite masterpiece by Poe?
She shrugged. Im sure theyll talk about the murder.
Were not members. Are you sure theyll let us in?
Members are always free to bring guests. Its simply a matter of paying for their meals. And can you imagine anyone trying to tell my mother that shes not welcome to bring her daughter and a friend?
Gen had a point. Eileen had the power to open a lot of doors.
He stood up. The world didnt rock. A shower would fix him, he decided.
All right, Im going home, but Ill be back in time to go to the meeting with you. And youll stay here until I come back for you.
Joe She said his name in a soft whisper, accompanied by a weary sigh. I am not a hothouse flower. Ive been taking care of myself in the city for some time now. I do not intend to stay cooped up in my apartment all day.
He arched a brow. Its a really nice apartment.
She flushed. It was a nice apartment. She lived here because of Eileen; the building was supposed to have the best security system in the city.
Joe
Give it a rest, Gen. Ill be back in a couple of hours. Depending on traffic, he added dryly, wondering how long it would take to reclaim his car at the impound lot.
Oh?
Yeah. If were going to this meeting, lets do a little Poe research first, huh?
She stared back at him, a slow smile curving her lips, a light entering her eyes.
Damn, she was a beautiful woman.
Oh, Joe, thats great!
She leapt up and threw her arms around him. Her scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her warm body as she crushed herself against him was like a taste of heaven.
He unwound her arms and stepped back. You, uh, you stay here till I get back, promise?
She looked at him with a frown.
Just this morning, Gen, please? Until I get a handle on this.
Im not a Raven. Its my mom were worried about, remember?
Gen?
Yes, fine.
He started out.
Joe? You dont have your car, she reminded him. You can take mine. Its in the garage.
He was certain that the garage fee in this building was probably more than most Americans paid for an apartment. But he couldnt take her car. It was time to rescue his own.
Ill just grab a cab for now.
I can call you a car
And I can run out to the street and snag a cab. Ill be back soon, he promised.
Genevieve didnt mind spending a few hours in the apartment. In fact, she loved the apartment and liked killing time there. What she did mind was being told that she needed to stay somewhere, anywhere, even though she knew that she should be grateful she had friends who cared.
At least he intended to involve her in the investigation, although he definitely wasnt happy about how things had played out last night. He was never happy if he wasnt in control. Not so much of others, but he was the kind of man who wanted to be in control of himself at all times, and getting drunk was anything but.
Restlessly, she paced the room. The morning would go slowly. She was sure of it.
She put a call through to her mother, just to say hello and tell her that she and Joe would be taking her to the meeting that night.
Im afraid it wont be much of a meeting, Eileen warned. All theyll do is talk about poor Thorne. She hesitated at the other end of the line. I suppose a lot of them are frightened, after what that psychic said.
But youre not, Genevieve chided.
Of course not. There was another slight silence, then a gasp. Oh, Genevieve! Perhaps you shouldnt come.
Mother, stop.
But, darling, after all youve been through, do you really want to be around a bunch of people talking about murder?
After all Ive been through, I take great delight in going wherever I choose to go.
But
Well pick you up at six-thirty, Genevieve said.
Genevieve, I can get there by myself.
Well pick you up at six-thirty, Gen repeated.
At least youll be with Joe, Eileen said.
Right. At least Ill be with Joe, Genevieve agreed, though she was more than a little irritated by her mothers words. Even her own mother felt she needed protection.
Genevieve rang off and wandered over to her desk, where she brought the front page of the paper up on her computer, curious to see if anything new had been written about Thornes murder.
The headline and the main story were on the accident that had taken place on the FDR. She read the story, then clicked a link and watched the video that had been taken by a chance onlooker. Unfortunately, nothing in the story or the video told her anything that Joe hadnt.
Genevieve drummed her fingers on the desk. Sam Latham had been in that accident.
And so had Joe.
She hesitated, then picked up the phone again. This time she called St. Vincents.
Sam was in a regular room and able to see visitors.
Again she hesitated. Then she glanced at the clock. She could get to St. Vincents and back in plenty of time. She wouldnt take her own car. She would have Tim, the morning security guard, call for car service, and the driver could just wait for her while she was at the hospital. She could be back in no time.
Even as she made the arrangements, she felt guilty.
She told herself that she didnt owe anyone anything, that she was a free woman who could come and go as she pleased. Even so, she felt guilty.
After all, shed promised.
But it was broad daylight, and she needed to see Sam Latham.
But she had promised.
As her mind warred with itself, the phone rang. She was going to let the machine get it, but she heard Joes voice and picked up.
Hey.
Hey, he returned. Listen, I forgot I had an appointment. Ill be a few hours longer. Is that okay with you?
Im sure I can fill the time somehow, she told him.
Okay. Lets say Ill be back around two or two-thirty.
Perfect, she told him.
Okay, so she still felt guilty. But, really, the promise had been made during the last conversation, when he wasnt going to be gone nearly so long. That had to make it null and void. She had said that she would find a way to fill the time, and she would.
She left her apartment, making sure to lock up, and hurried to the elevator.
If hed been blindfolded, he would have known where he was.
No matter how much antiseptic was used, no matter what kind of air filtration was in place, a morgue smelled like a morgue.
Even in the entry rooms.
Joe was grateful to be in good standing with the police. He didnt even need to show his credentials when he arrived; Judy, at the desk, knew him well.
Hey, gorgeous, he said.
Hey, handsome.
Youre too kind.
She was a big woman, round and rosy-cheeked, fiftysomething and always pleasant. She was the perfect person to meet the public in such a place.
Hey, she said, laughing. The living always look handsome to me.
Ah, shucks, be careful or all these compliments will go to my head.
Better be carefulyour head could swell up like a balloon if I really got going, she teased. But youre not here to flirt.
No. Judy, fraid not. I need to know who was on the Thorne Bigelow autopsy.
Oh, that was Frankie.
Not many people could have used such a casual reference. Frankie was Dr. Francis Arbitter, one of the most renowned members of the medical examiners office. He was a down-to-earth guy, but his expertise had earned him a reverence over the years that made most people speak of him with awe.
Is he available?
Im sure hell see you.
A phone call sent him through the double doors and down the hallway to autopsy room number four.
Francis Arbitter was alone. There was a corpse on a Gurney, but a sheet covered the torso and limbs. There was a huge gash on the head of the middle-aged, bearded man who lay there, but there was no sign of blood. The body had been washed for the exam that was about to take place.
Frank was at his desk, munching on what appeared to be a ham and cheese on rye. Joe! he called with a smile, and he rose. He was a tall, well-muscled man who looked like he should have been playing fullback instead of solving mysteries at a morgue. But his tousled, thinning hair and Coke-bottle glasses gave him a little bit of the mad-scientist look that was more befitting to his chosen calling.
Sit, sit, he said, drawing up a chair from behind one of the other clinically clean desks in the room.
Joe took a seat. Hed been in plenty of morgues, but he never became as accustomed to working with the dead as Frank, who got right to the point.
If you just wanted to shoot the breeze, youd have called to meet for a beer somewhere. So whats up? Im guessing its the Thorne Bigelow murder.
Good deduction, Joe said.
Well, speaking as Dr. Watson here, Id have to say I learned something from Holmes, Frank said shrewdly. Youve worked for Eileen Brideswell before. She knew Thorne, so I assume she intends to use her resources to help the police find the murderer. After all, she has a lot at stake.
Joe decided not to correct him and explain that he wasnt working for Eileen but had been pretty much forced to take the case by Genevieve. He wasnt surprised that Frank had made the assumption that his appearance had to do with the case, but he was surprised that Frank seemed to think that Eileen had a lot at stake.
He nodded, watching Frank. Yes, Im here about Bigelow.
His son picked up the body the other day. Personally. What with the Bigelow money, he certainly didnt have to do it, but the kid came in here crying like a baby. Well, hell, hes not a kid, really. Hes got to be about thirty.
I guess you never get so old that you dont feel the loss of a parent.
No. Frank shrugged. I talked to him. Hes on the warpath himself, wants to know who killed his father, and why.
Joe stared at Frank, and Frank grinned and shrugged.
Okay, you and I both know that the Bigelow money and power drew lots of enemies. But, hey, Im not a cop. I turn over my findings, and the cops take it from there.
And what did you find?
That the mans love for a good glass of wine did him in.
So his wine was definitely poisoned?
Definitely. He hadnt eaten in hours. From the timing, I got the impression he was probably about to go out for dinner. That it was the aperitif before the meal.
What was it?
Rosencraft 1858. A very rare burgundy, Frank said.
Joe almost smiled. I meant the poison.
Arsenic.
I thought arsenic poisoners usually dosed their victims more slowly?
Arsenic poisoning was popular in the past. Centuries ago. People got sick, and eventually they died. But a large dose is just as effectiveand quicker.
Was there anything else? Any sign of a struggle? Bruises, gashes, defensive wounds?
Not a thing, Frank told him.
Joe was silent. Frank shrugged. Quoth the ravendie.
Theres nothing about poisoning in The Raven, is there?
No, but there is in both The Black Cat and The Cask of Amontillado.
I do the autopsy, Joe. Thats it. After that, I let the cops do their work.
Who caught the case? Joe asked.
Raif Green and Thomas Dooley. Theyre both good guys. Neither one is green. Theyve been working murders together for almost ten years.
Yeah, I know them both, Joe said. He knew them well, and he liked them both. That was a relief. Neither was the type of hothead to get antsy because a P.I. was on the case. They were both workhorses who had come up through the ranks, seen everything, grown weary and kept at it anyway. Good cops, they were constrained by the departments budget and tended to be pleased when someone like him could throw some private citizens funds at a case.