Darren Shan - Hell's Horizon

“In a few days, matters will have been resolved. Capac Raimi will have made his stand or fallen. Either way, I’ll be free to act, and then — assuming my tumor doesn’t kick in and turn me into a fruitcake — I’ll do all I can for you. We’ll go after your tormentors, find your friend, put everything right that can be put right. Until then, I must be neutral.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of The Cardinal’s extraordinary pledge, but there was no mistaking his earnestness. If he’d been playing with me before, he wasn’t any longer.

“And in the meantime?” I asked quietly.

“Go about your business. If you find the killer, do with him as you wish. If not, I’ll get in touch and we’ll make plans.”

His secretary paged him and said Ford Tasso was on his way up. He thanked her and said she should send him straight in when he arrived.

“I have to bid you farewell. Mr. Tasso has not taken his son’s death well. If I can’t calm him down, he might do something silly when and if young Raimi turns up again.”

“His son?” I asked.

“Vincent Carell. Ford Tasso was his father. You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“I didn’t realize the secret had been so well kept. That’s why we went out of our way to overlook his deficiencies. In all honesty,” he said in a tone of strictest confidence, “his death isn’t too much of a blow. I’m only surprised the fool survived this long. He won’t be missed. Mr. Tasso will realize that once he’s had time to think about it. He’d better — if Raimi comes through, he’ll be the new boss. Wouldn’t do to have bad blood between them.”

“You really think Tasso would serve under the man who killed his son?”

“Ford Tasso was born to serve,” The Cardinal said, then led me to the door.

I would see him once more from afar, two nights later, after he fell to his death, but this was our last encounter. As I made my way downstairs to collect my shoes, I brooded on how healthy he looked for a man on his last legs, and found myself wondering if hell was big enough to accommodate both Ferdinand Dorak and the First of the Fallen, and if it wasn’t, which of the two would be forced out. Old Nick was a mighty foe, but I couldn’t see The Cardinal playing second fiddle to anyone. The Devil might be about to get his ass kicked. I almost wished I could be there to see it.

I ended up exploring more blind alleys on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Ellen’s workmates proved as clueless as I’d suspected. None knew anything of her love life. I showed them photographs of Valerie, Ziegler and Nick, along with pictures of everyone else associated with the investigation, in case one would jog somebody’s memory, but although several recognized the now infamous Miss Thomas, nobody could connect any of the suspects to Ellen.

Wednesday afternoon, following an uninformative interview with one of Ellen’s friends, I realized I was close to Cafran’s and called in to have a few words with Ama Situwa, to see if she could tell me anything about Ellen’s dinner companion. I guessed it had been Valerie in the Skylight bar with Ellen, but figured I should confirm it.

It was quiet when I arrived and a bored-looking waiter pointed to Ama. She was laying cutlery on one of the tables. The silverware jangled loudly in her hands, which shook nervously. This impression was reinforced when I tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

“Easy,” I said as she turned, brandishing one of the knives. “I come in peace.”

“Then why are you sneaking up on people?” she snapped.

“Didn’t mean to.” I stuck out a hand. “I’m Al Jeery. I called about Ellen?”

Her face relaxed into a warm grin. “Sorry for biting.” She laid the cutlery down in a bundle. “Shall we go through to the kitchen? We can talk in private there.”

I followed her into the back. Ama found a quiet spot and pulled up a couple of stools. She asked if I’d like anything to eat. I said I didn’t want to impose.

“So,” she smiled. “What would you like to know?”

“You saw Ellen in the Skylight the night before her murder?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea of the time?”

“After nine, maybe a quarter past.”

“She was with another woman?”

“Yes. They were waiting for dates.”

“Do you know if they were going on together from there or if they were planning to separate?”

“I’ve no idea. The bar was noisy, I’d had a few drinks. We didn’t say much.”

“The other woman — could you describe her?”

“White. Pretty. Well dressed.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention. I might recognize her if I saw her again, but…”

“No problem.” I forced the smile I’d been making good use of recently. “If you can spare the time, I’d like you to look at some photos.”

“Sure.”

I took out the envelope, shook a few snapshots onto the table and shifted through the pile, lining them up. “If you see anyone you know, please let me…”

She wasn’t listening. Her eyes had focused on a picture and her lips were pursed. She leaned her head sideways, reached for the photo, stopped. “May I?”

“By all means,” I told her, heart starting to pound.

I watched with sick fascination as she picked up the photo and studied it. She sorted through the rest of the pile until she found another.

“This woman… I can’t say for sure — it was dark and I didn’t get that good a look — but I think this is the woman I saw with Ellen.”

“It can’t be,” I said shakily. “You’re mistaken.”

“Maybe, but it sure looks like her.”

I stared at the photos in her hand and suddenly, terribly, it made sense.

“Thank you,” I muttered, sliding off the stool, almost tumbling to the floor.

“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching out to steady me.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks. I have to leave now. You’ve been very helpful. Thank—”

I started for the door.

“Mr. Jeery — your photographs.”

“Keep them. I don’t… Goodbye.”

I rushed out of the restaurant and fell to the pavement, panting, forcing back bile. I raised a hand and watched it shake like crazy. Gradually, as minutes passed, the shaking subsided and I breathed normally. When I felt steady, I stood, fetched my bike and pushed it along for a while, collecting my thoughts.

I knew who the link was. The lover. The pieces fell into place neatly in retrospect. Ellen saying she might surprise me. The porter in the Skylight who said Valerie Thomas could be a lesbo. Priscilla and Nic tricking together, closer than ordinary friends. Ellen laughing — a wedding wouldn’t be appropriate.

So obvious. Hard to believe it had taken me this long to figure it out. I didn’t know the motive, but that would come. One short ride and all the answers would be at my fingertips. I wouldn’t even have to search. I knew exactly where to find the monster.

I climbed on my bike and started pedaling, slowly at first, then faster, furiously, till I was flying, a hurricane on two wheels, destination — home.

Ali was bagging bagels as I started up the stairs. I retraced my steps. He burst into a smile when I entered. “Hello, my friend!” he greeted me, emerging from behind the counter to pump my hand. “Back on your feet and hungry again? I can guess what you are after. Salmon and cream cheese, yes?”

“No,” I said softly.

“The new lady in your life has changed you,” he chuckled. “An occupational hazard of love, yes?”

I cleared my throat. “You should shut up shop for a while.”

He frowned. “Is this a joke, my friend?”

I shook my head. “Go for a walk and don’t come back for a couple of hours.”