The Angel Of Darkness

CHAPTER 8

Anticipation of the kind that’d eaten me up all afternoon set back to work on my insides that evening. I went down to the kitchen and told Mrs. Leshko that she could go home early, as I’d see to the glasses and such in the parlor. She gave me a big grin and near wrenched my cheeks off in gratitude, then got her things together and departed. I went up to the parlor and straightened up the cocktail wagon, taking the glasses downstairs to wash them. Then it was upstairs for several hours of the history of ancient Rome and half a packet of cigarettes, all of which was interrupted by the occasional trip to our new icebox for something to nibble on, periodic bouts of nervous pacing, and long minutes of wondering whether or not the Doctor would agree to help find little Ana Linares.

After dropping the others off at their respective homes, the Doctor returned to Seventeenth Street at about midnight. Such was early by the group’s usual standards, but in recent weeks the Doctor hadn’t allowed himself anything like so much leisure, so I took the time of his return as a good sign. He entered the house alone-Cyrus was next door tending to the horses-and as I heard him come in I started down for the parlor, where I knew he’d be pouring himself a nightcap. I’d taken the precaution of getting into some nightclothes and a robe, and as I walked slowly down the stairs I ran my hands through my hair once or twice to muss it up. Then I did my best to look sleepy, giving out with a quiet yawn as I entered the parlor and found the Doctor sitting in his chair with a small glass of cognac, once again going over his letter from Mr. Roosevelt.

He looked up when I came in. “Stevie? What are you doing up? It’s late.”

“Only midnight,” I answered, walking over to the window. “Must’ve dozed off, though.”

The Doctor let out a small laugh. “An excellent attempt, Stevie. But a trifle transparent.” I didn’t say anything, just kind of chuckled and shrugged. Setting his glass aside, the Doctor walked over to stand at the other window. After a moment, he quietly said:

“You realize, Stevie, what they want me to do?”

The question might seem to’ve come out of nowhere, but I guess I was expecting something like it, being as I answered without much hesitation, “Unh-hunh. Pretty much.”

“And how long have you known?”

“Miss Howard told us about it last night.”

The Doctor nodded, smiling for just a second, then kept staring out the window. “I’m not sure that I can.”

I shrugged again. “It’s your decision, I guess. I mean, I do understand-with what happened-”

“Yes.” He didn’t turn as he added, “We almost lost you, last time around.”

That was a surprise: I’d been so convinced that Mary Palmer would be foremost in his thoughts when it came to considering the Linares case that I’d clear forgotten that I’d had a pretty close brush with the Reaper during the same attack that’d left her dead-and so had Cyrus, a fact what I quickly reminded the Doctor of.

“Cyrus is a grown man,” he answered. “If he tells me he is willing to take the risks involved with this case, then that is his decision. God knows the Beecham affair should have given him a-point of reference…” He paused, then took in a very deep, tired breath and let it out in a slow hiss. “But you are a different case.”

I pondered the thing. “I never thought-I mean, I figured you’d be thinking of-”

“I know,” the Doctor answered. “It wouldn’t have been like you to think anything else. You haven’t had many years of believing that you’re important, Stevie. But you are. Mary was, too, I don’t have to tell you that. But she’s-gone now.” It was as much as he could bear to say about her, and more than he ever had, to me.

“Still doesn’t seem natural,” I said, letting the words out before I’d had time to think. “Not having her around.”

“No. And it never will.” The Doctor pulled out his watch and began to fiddle with it in a way that was strange for him: like he wasn’t sure just how to say what was on his mind. “I-do not expect to ever have children, Stevie. Of my own, I mean. But if I were to have a son-I could only wish that he would have your courage. In all ways.” He tucked the watch away. “I can’t let my actions put you in danger again.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I get that. But-” Words were becoming a problem for me, too. “But I was in danger my whole life. I mean, before I came to live with you. It ain’t that big of a thing-so long as there’s some kind of sensible reason for it. And this case-well, you seen that picture of the little girl. And it’s pretty obvious what could be hanging on the thing.” I stamped my foot once, lightly, trying to be clear. “I wouldn’t want to think that I kept you out of it, that’s all. The rest of them, they all know they need you. If I’m in the way, you can-I don’t know, ship me off someplace. But you oughtta help them. Because like Detective Sergeant Lucius said, this thing could get real big and real ugly.”

The Doctor smiled at that and gave me what you might call a scrutinizing look. “And when did he say that?”

I laughed a bit, knocking a fist lightly to my forehead. “Oh. Right. That would’ve been last night, I guess.”

“Ah.”

For what seemed quite a while but couldn’t actually have been more than a few minutes-not even enough time for Cyrus to finish up in the carriage house-we both just stood there, looking out at Stuyvesant Park. Then the Doctor said:

“The detective sergeants found the weapon this morning-did they tell you?”

I spun toward him in excitement. “No. Mr. Moore said there’d been developments, though. What was it, a piece of pipe?”

“Your old trademark,” the Doctor answered with a nod, pulling out his cigarette case. “It was under one of the benches around the Egyptian obelisk. They dusted for fingerprints and found several. There was also some blood on the thing, though it’s impossible to say who or even what it came from. Much work to be done in that area of forensics, I’m afraid…” He lit his cigarette, then blew smoke out the open window with a troubled but fascinated look on his face. “Who the devil would kidnap the daughter of a high Spanish official and then fail to capitalize on it in some way?”

A smile crept into my face. “Then you are going to help them.”

The Doctor sighed again. “I have a dilemma, it seems. I wouldn’t want you to have to be sent away, Stevie, yet I can’t be the agent of further threats to your safety.” He took another long drag off his cigarette. “Tell me-what would your solution to such a problem be?”

“Mine?”

“Yes. How do you think I should handle it?”

I groped for words. “You should-well, you should do what you’ve always done. Just be my friend. Trust that I know how to handle myself. Because I do.” I let out a small grunt of a laugh. “Good as the rest of you, anyway.”

The Doctor smiled, then walked over to tousle my hair lightly. “True enough. And stated with your usual respect for your elders.”

Then we heard the front door open and close, after which Cyrus came loping up the stairs. He paused when he saw me in the parlor, as if he thought that the conversation might be private; but the Doctor called him in.

“You may as well know, too, Cyrus,” he said, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray. “We seem to be reentering the detection business-that is, if you wish.”

Cyrus just nodded once. “Very much, sir.”

“You’ll keep an eye on our young friend here, won’t you?” the Doctor added. “It seems that he’s already been knocking about the city at all hours of the night with the detective sergeants.” The Doctor looked up from the ashtray to Cyrus. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, I suppose?”

Cyrus only smiled, crossed his hands, and glanced at the floor. “I might know something about it, yes, Doctor.”

“I thought you might,” the Doctor answered, heading for the stairs. “Well… I, for one, intend to get some sleep. It may be in short supply soon.” He paused before heading upstairs and turned to us. “Do be careful-both of you. God knows where this thing will lead.”

Cyrus and I mumbled solemn pledges that we’d try to watch ourselves; but when the Doctor had disappeared up the stairs and into his bedroom, there was no way on earth we could keep ourselves from smiling.