Killer Look

FORTY-SEVEN

“Take me home,” I said to Mike when we’d finished talking to David Kingsley and Mercer escorted him out of the small office.

“You wanted to come to this party. I’m afraid you’re here till the bitter end.”

“Please, Mike. I don’t have the heart for this.”

“Commissioner Scully’s on his way, babe,” he said, taking me in his arms. “He’s going to do a presser on the museum steps at midnight. You can’t go anywhere before then.”

“I don’t want to see Scully. Don’t-”

“Hush. Come with me,” Mike said. “It’s all quiet in Dendur now. Mercer’s gone to find a waiter to meet us over there. Let’s have a drink.”

We started to walk through the hallways, the now-quiet galleries, toward the Dendur wing.

“I’ve got to go back for Mrs. Stafford’s pearls, Mike,” I said. “Even though they’re her fakes.”

“Mrs. Stafford’s pearls aren’t real?”

“Her fakes are worth more than most people’s real necklaces,” I said. “I was almost relieved when they rolled all over the floor. Real pearls have silk knots between every single bead so they can’t break away like these did. She wasn’t kidding when she told me they were her travel jewels-imitations of her great ones.”

“Not to worry, Coop. There are two janitors and four cops on their hands and knees chasing after the Stafford pearls. You can spend the next month stringing them back together-knots or no knots,” Mike said. “It’ll be the perfect therapy for you.”

“I should be picking them up myself.”

“No, you should be telling me what the hell got into you today. How come I didn’t even make you in the crowd?”

“You’re slipping, Detective. I thought you’d know me anywhere.”

We walked into the Dendur wing together. The cleanup crew had already removed the hundreds of folding chairs and stacked them outside the entrance. The spotlights had been shut off and the music had stopped.

The space was still and serene, a waxing moon hanging above the glass roof, illuminating the ancient temple and the shallow pool of water that surrounds it. It remained the most magnificent room in Manhattan.

I walked to the edge of the reflecting pool, stepped out of my purloined sandals, and sat down on the edge. I pulled up my leggings and put my feet in the water. My calves ached, but then so did all of me.

Mercer came in, too, followed by one of the waiters. The young man was carrying a silver tray, with a glass of scotch for me and drinks for both Mike and Mercer.

Mike rolled up the legs of his tuxedo pants, took off his shoes and socks, and sat down beside me.

“Don’t get the tux wet,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder.

“It’s rented, babe. I can go for a swim if I want.”

Mercer stood over us, passing out the drinks from the waiter’s tray.

“You won’t be mad at me if I have a nightcap?” I asked Mike.

“You can have anything you want tonight.”

I sat up straight and lifted my glass.

Mike clinked me first. “To Vlad! Here’s to Vlad the Impaler. Head of the house of Dracula.”

Mercer tapped his glass against ours.

“I did get a bite or two in on Reed’s hands, you know,” I said. “Maybe there’s something to the Dracula myth after all.”

“You got Reed with a glaive, Coop.”

“A what?”

“It’s a single-ended blade on the end of a pole,” Mike said. “First time I’ll ever have one as evidence. You shafted the bastard.”

“He was trying to knock me out, Mike. Maybe worse.”

“I’m not being critical. I’m a little bit in awe,” he said. “You nailed the sucker with the glaive of the bodyguard of the Duke of Mantua, 1580. That’s what it says right on the wall of the museum. It will make for a great piece of evidence at the trial.”

The drink was as refreshing for my throat-and my spirits-as the cold water was on my legs. The setting was magical, even if the evening had almost been a catastrophe.

“Keith Scully is going to be so mad at me,” I said.

I was staring up at the moon, wishing I were thousands of miles away from the police commissioner and the district attorney.

“The commissioner? On a night you solved two homicides? For now, he’ll be a prince, Coop. He won’t tell you what he really thinks for another week or two.”

“Why? What did he say to you?” I asked. “What does Scully really think?”

“That you’re back in the game, Coop. That we’ve got you back in the game.”