Mister X

58

Pearl showed Quinn the C and C documents on Lilly Branston's flash drive. After Pearl copied them onto her computer, Quinn took the flash drive with him and left to deliver it to Renz for expert analysis in narrowing the considerable list of suspects.

Alone again, Pearl called Addie on her cell and suggested they have dinner at a small Afghani restaurant on Amsterdam, not far from the office.

Eastern Starr was the name of the place. It was long and narrow, and there was a vaguely astrological feel to the decor. One long wall was all dark blue tapestries with quarter moons and backlit constellations. The scent of spices wafting from the kitchen was dominated by something unfamiliar and pungent that made eyes water at the same time it stimulated appetites.

"Meat and yogurt," Addie said, when their entries had arrived and she'd taken a taste. "I never dreamed they could be so good together."

"Just about everything here is good," Pearl told her. "Yancy introduced me to this place. He's a regular here."

"Ah, Yancy."

Pearl forked in a bite of her samboosak, watching how Addie obviously appreciated her food, which was made up of seasoned beef and noodles tossed in yogurt. She took a sip of Afghani wine, also surprisingly good, judging by the look on Addie's face.

"We here for another sisterly talk?" Addie asked, putting down her wine glass but not releasing its stem.

"Sort of," Pearl said. "I did some deeper research on you."

Addie seemed only remotely interested. "And?"

"Until you signed up for classes six years ago at the Metcalf Valley College of Criminology, there was no you."

Pearl had to give Addie credit. She saw the surprise in her eyes, then the quick calculation. There was no point in denials.

"I did find an Adelaide Price," Pearl said, "but she died thirty years ago of rheumatic fever. She was only five years old."

Addie pushed her food away and took a long sip of wine. "There's something you need to understand, and I don't know if that's possible unless you're me. After I was almost killed, I was afraid every minute I was awake, and I was afraid in my sleep-what sleep I managed to get."

"You mean Geraldine Knott was afraid," Pearl said.

"That's true," Addie said. "I am-was-Geraldine Knott. When I became something of a celebrity as well as a victim, the fear suddenly became worse. It wasn't idle fear. I even received threatening letters."

"I can understand your fear," Pearl said. "But the odds of being attacked by a serial killer twice are pretty slim."

"Oh, it can happen, though in my case it didn't. In order to be safe and anonymous again, I began using the name Addie Price. I did a search through death records and found someone who was born around the same time I was and died young. I appropriated her identity, even her early childhood. I became Addie Price."

"But why the fictitious second attack?"

"I realized that in becoming Addie Price, I'd also given up the advantages of celebrity. So when it suited my purpose, I reclaimed them. I concocted a different, fictitious attack so I could draw on my experience as Geraldine Knott for professional purposes. Some of the details were the same. The man who tried to kill me was never caught. He wore a mask, so even if I came face-to-face with him again, I wouldn't know it."

"And this new identity helped you professionally?"

"Immensely. But I also created it for personal reasons. It sounds crazy, but being Addie Price empowered me so I could look at Geraldine's experience objectively, so I could deal with it. The new name, the new me, helped. You can't imagine how much it helped. I remain Addie Price."

Pearl continued to eat, but slower and with less enthusiasm. "So the story of Addie Price being attacked is just that-a story to help establish your bona fides as an expert with special, personal knowledge."

"Exactly," Addie said. "Based on the genuine Geraldine Knott attack for authenticity."

Pearl sipped her wine. She seemed to have had this all figured out before sitting down at the table with Addie.

"What are you going to do with your information?" Addie asked.

"Tell Quinn. Let him tell Fedderman. It doesn't have to go any further."

Addie let out a long breath and took another sip of wine. "I can live with that. And I mean it literally."

"Do you think it's possible that the man who tried to kill you was the Carver?" Pearl asked.

"It's possible but hard to say. He broke off the attack before he had a chance to…well, you know."

"That's why you're here in New York," Pearl said. "Why you politicked so hard for the job. That part of it's personal, too."

Addie toyed with her wineglass, using the crystal stem to rotate it in short but smooth intervals that did nothing to disturb the wine. "Yes, it's intensely personal, even though I'm not totally sure whoever attacked me was the Carver. I'm not his usual type, not part of his psycho scenario." She met Pearl's gaze and held it. "In fact, you are, Pearl, and that's something to consider."

"I've considered it," Pearl said.

There was a hitch in Addie's voice when she said, "There's enough of a chance it was the Carver who tried to kill me that I can't leave it alone."

Pearl smiled and shrugged. "Obsessive pursuit fits right in with our organization."

Addie cautiously tried another bite of her beef and yogurt dish. "I noticed."

"You mean Quinn," Pearl said.

"No," Addie said, "not just Quinn."

"So Addie's really Geraldine Knott," Quinn said to Pearl, the next morning in the office. He was gazing off to his right, the way he did when he was distracted and thinking. He'd been sitting that way almost from the moment Pearl had begun telling him what she'd learned about Addie Price.

The air conditioner was still making its hammering noise, but not nearly as loudly as yesterday. The day hadn't heated up yet. Pearl had made coffee. Its fresh-roasted scent permeated the office.

"We shouldn't be surprised," Quinn said. "She's a sort of show-business figure in Detroit. Celebrities more often than not change their names."

"You're a kind of celebrity in New York," Pearl said, "and you haven't changed yours."

"I've thought about it, though," Quinn said. "I'm trying to choose between Mike Sledge and Sherlock Spade."

"After the last couple of nights," Pearl said, "I might settle on Nancy Droop."

Quinn winked at her. "Not hardly, Pearl. Hey, what about Feds?"

"Oh, he's definitely Inspector Clu-"

"So," Fedderman said, standing just inside the door. "Caught you talking about moi."

"We were talking about Addie Price," Quinn said in a businesslike tone. "It's information that doesn't go past you."

"I'm a deep well of secrets," Fedderman said, sitting down behind his desk and fitting his fingers together tightly, as if preparing to show some kid the church and all the people.

"Aren't we all," Pearl said, not smiling.

Five minutes later, when Fedderman had heard about the Geraldine Knott-Addie Price identity switch, he shook his head. "Poor woman. She musta gone around scared shitless all the time. Maybe she still does, even with her new identity."

"That's why we keep her secret limited to us," Quinn said.

"And maybe the Carver," Pearl said.

Fedderman stared at his laced fingers and thought about it. "Addie's not his type." He looked up at Pearl in a way she didn't like.

"I know," she said, "I've looked in the mirror and seen photos of all the Carver's victims. I'm the sicko's type."

"You and a million other New York women," Quinn said.

"More than a million," Fedderman said.

"Those are comforting odds," Pearl said, but she didn't mean it.