Carol O’Connell - Shell Game

„It wouldn’t have made any difference.“ She rested her head on the back of the chair. „It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.“

Coffey turned away from her and walked out the stage door.

Riker inched his chair closer to Mallory. „You really blew it, kid. If you’d said it was Coffey’s fault, you could’ve used that on him down the road. Nothin’ like guilt in the bank.“ He put his hand on her forehead. „Are you feeling okay?“

She brushed him away.

„No fever,“ said Riker. „Well, your old man always said you’d grow up to be a class act. I guess that’s the only explanation.“

So this was her idea of payback for nailing the weasel. And Jack Coffey had done that with style, a smooth beau geste without a drop of sweat or a blink – all to save Mallory’s face. It was damn near romantic.

Of course, the stress would make the rest of Coffey’s hair fall out overnight, but he would still be beautiful to Riker in the morning.

Mallory pulled her gun from the holster and set it down on the desk. „What else have we got? Anything? I bet no one remembers seeing Malakhai in the theater, right?“

„No one can put him on the scene.“ Riker never took his eyes off her gun. A suicide watch was standard practice for a cop involved in a bloody killing, but Mallory would get no such service for an accidental death.

„What about motive for the first one? You think Oliver Tree really knew how Louisa died?“

„No, he was just a nice old man.“ She picked up the gun and turned it over in her hands. „But he was brave, wasn’t he? All those arrows.“

„Yeah, he was.“ Riker understood how much Oliver Tree had meant to her. But she was already on a first-name basis with the new corpse, Franny Futura, and that worried him. There was a possessive quality to the way she pronounced his name.

She was not done yet.

„You did good. It’s not your fault that – “ And now he watched her pull back the hammer on her revolver. „Mallory, you know Coffey’s right. There’s nothing more you can do.“

Certainly nothing legal.

His eyes were still on the revolver in her hands. Even without his glasses, the damage to the firing pin was obvious. Though he would wonder about that for a long time to come, he would never ask how it had happened. He put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. „You’re only human, kid.“

Mallory smiled. „But you’re not really sure about that, are you, Riker?“ She slid the broken gun into her holster. „Drive me home?“

„Sure thing. You wanna change clothes?“

„Something like that.“

The long room was paneled in dark wood. Plush red leather couches and chairs were arranged in conversational groupings, and the far wall was lined with bottles and a long mirror above the mahogany bar. For lack of customers, a cocktail waitress passed the time in low conversation with the bartender. They were too far away to be overheard.

Mallory stood near the archway of the lounge, facing the wide dining room entrance across a narrow hallway. She watched the waiter’s progress through the many tables set with crystal and linen, wine and food. The man had not yet found Malakhai among the patrons at this private party.

It was a window on another time. Fur wraps were draped on the chairs of women who showed no fear of assault by political spittle. Illicit smoke curled upward from long cigarette holders, and bright jewels flashed sparks of light from bracelets and rings. Champagne corks were popping, and the music of another era swelled up and floated back across the divide of the hall. Two people were slow-dancing between the tables, and other outlaws were rising to join them in this unlicensed, untaxed pleasure.

And behind her, the December rain was drumming on the glass.

Malakhai emerged from the dining room and walked toward the lounge. He was happy to see her. Perhaps he misunderstood her visit, taking it as a graceful gesture of defeat.

She felt lighter in the body as he drew closer. And there was a quickening in her chest where the most vital organ should be, but none other than Dr. Slope had said she did not have a heart. An ache was rising in her throat. She knew what that was; it came with sorrow, but she could not understand it – not here, not now. And so she put it down to the frayed nerves of closing on endgame. She was here to call Malakhai out and finish him off.

„Mallory, I hope you’ll let me pay for wrecking your gun.“

„Don’t worry about it.“ She unbelted her trench coat. „I have lots of guns.“ She opened her blazer to display the.38 in her holster. „This one works just fine.“

He was standing very close to her. Her pulse was racing. And this excitement going on beneath her skin? Nerves, only that. Such a long night. Almost over.

„Come to the party?“ Malakhai glanced at the dining room for a moment. „Or were you planning to make an arrest for illegal dancing?“

Mallory looked into the other room. „I thought they might’ve canceled it – because of the accident.“

„Most of these people were at Carnegie Hall tonight,“ said Malakhai. „No one’s come in from Faustine’s yet. I may have forgotten to mention the incident.“

„But you remember killing a man. You know I’ll get you for that.“

„Ah, the arrest – that’s the main thing, isn’t it? Nick says there won’t be one. But I have more faith in you. Of course, by the time you make a case, I probably won’t remember why you’re arresting me. I hope that doesn’t spoil it. I hate disappointing you.“ Perversely, he seemed sincere in this. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He was moving closer.

Mallory did not back away, but she did warn him off with the slow shake of her head. „I think I can get a warrant before your brain turns to soup.“

He smiled as if this were a great joke. „The strokes are coming faster now. Years are disappearing. Entire decades are mostly smoke.“

„So I was right, wasn’t I? Louisa’s gone?“

„She’s been gone a long time.“

„But she was there when you took a shot at Futura. Louisa wouldn’t let you do it, would she?“

He shook his head in mild confusion.

So this was one more mystery she would never have the answer to – like the way he had worked a dead woman’s shadow. Curiously, Mallory had more faith in Malakhai’s wife than he did. If Louisa had not died a second time, Franny might have lived.

He put out one hand to touch her hair. „Right now, this moment – it’s just you and me.“ He bowed his head, bringing his face closer to hers. „I hope to die before I forget you, Kathy Mallory.“

She listened to the rain drumming on the windowpane behind her. One moment strung into the next. His arm moved around her shoulder, and he was leading her toward the dining room.

„So come to the party.“ His voice was stronger now. „We’ll break the law while I still remember how to dance.“

Mallory pulled back, shook him off, and still he was not seeing her as an opponent – a good time to slip in a knife. What would it take to convince him that he had murdered the wrong man? Nick Prado was standing on the other side of the narrow hall, and she knew the same idea was crossing his mind as he watched their conversation with great interest.

With just the right words, the right timing, she could aim Malakhai at Prado and commit a perfect murder with proxy hands.

Prado was a serial killer – three deaths. He was so good at this. She had underestimated him – another mistake. But now she could do the same thing better, quicker – and get clean away with it. Prado would die, and Malakhai would be effectively destroyed when he knew he had killed the wrong man. A little justice for everyone.