murderer?”
“ What can you tell us about Matisak?”
Sarafian's shoulders raised. “Strange bird, personality-wise. Doesn't associate, but he's a good man in the field. Has some physical problems that he works hard to overcome.”
“ Handicapped?”
“ No, wouldn't call it that.”
“ What, then?”
He went to a nearby wall and pulled down a photo of a group. “The sales force.”
Otto picked him out of ten men immediately. Matisak fit the profile, both in age and appearance, his features scarred by some childhood disease or porphyria. “Do you know if he is on any medication?”
“ I've seen him popping pills, sure.”
“ What sort?”
“ Couldn't say. Got it from a doctor in Indianapolis. One of our clients. The man complained that Matisak kept after him for freebies.”
“ We'll need the man's name.”
“ Grubber. Dr. Stanley Grubber.”
“ Where can he be reached?” pressed Brewer.
“ St. Luke's Hospital.”
Brewer gritted his teeth. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered.
“ What?” asked Sarafian.
“ Never mind, Sarafian. Just get us an address on Matisak, now! And you,” said Boutine, pointing to the personnel woman, “get St. Luke's in Indianapolis on the phone and get a number for this guy Grubber pronto!”
An incoming telephone call was for Brewer. He took it at a far desk, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. In a comer, he began asking questions of the caller.
“ When? When did the call come in? Did she say anything else? Christ. All right. What?”
“ What's going on, Joe?” Boutine asked his friend.
Joe Brewer stared at Otto, their eyes meeting.
“ What the fuck is it, Joe?”
“ He's… According to Dr. Coran, someone called her tonight at the crime lab, and she believes it was our killer.”
“ Matisak?”
“ Maybe. Maybe just a crank call.”
“ Give me that phone.”
Boutine hurriedly dialed the number for the crime lab, but he found that Jessica had left hours before.
He quickly dialed for the Lincolnshire Inn, getting a wrong number, cursing and asking for operator assistance. When he got through, he found no one answering Jessica's number.
“ Christ, Joe, if anything's happened to her-”Now, don't go jumping to conclusions, Otto. We've just got to go methodical here. Get Matisak's address and-” Otto rushed at Sarafian, who held up a card with Matisak's address on it. “I'm on my way out there, Joe. You coming?”
“ Damned right, but what about a warrant?”
“ Fuck the warrant. We have cause, provocation-the records showing his usual route, the fact some have been pilfered, to cover his tracks, his association with Lowenthal, Sarafian's eyes.”
“ Sarafian's eyes won't help us in a court of law.”
“ And no goddamned warrant is going to help Jess if this bastard has her.”
They raced from the squat factory building of Balue-Stork with Sarafian and the others staring after them, Sarafian saying, “I always knew that Matisak was weird, but I never in a million years-”
“ That's what you said about Lowenthal!” shouted Sarafian's boss. “This could destroy us in the medical community, damn! Damn! Sarafian, pack your belongings!”?
TWENTY-SEVEN
Jessica debated her options before leaving the relative safety of the Lincolnshire Inn for the address given her by Hillary Gamble. She knew he could just as well be an idiot, a fool, a member of the fringe element just out to get someone-anyone-to pay him a bit of attention. He may have guessed at the importance of medical supplies used by the killer, or he may have read about it in connection with the Lowenthal affair. With Lowenthal's death, the gag order on the information about the vampire killings had become too relaxed. Hell, if Brewer in Chicago could learn about Boutine and her in Virginia, anything was possible.
Still, she didn't want to meet Gamble alone, so she telephoned for Captain Lyle Kaseem, who, like her, had not felt entirely comfortable accepting Lowenthal as the vampire killer they had been stalking.
Kaseem was immediately interested in what she had to say. He was also closer to the address and said that he would meet her there.
“ Fine, but hold for me. No sense in either of us stepping into a trap, Captain. Will you inform Forsythe? Will he accompany you?”
“ Negative. He's left for D.C. already.”
“ All right. I'll get a cab and meet you at the destination.”
“ Will do.”
It was reassuring to talk to Kaseem, and for once his military bearing seemed to bolster her confidence in him.
“ And Captain-” Yes?”
“ I suggest you arm yourself.”
“ I'll see you at Gamble's place. We'll see what he's got to show us, and if there's any merit to it, we'll call in the marines if necessary.”
“ A SWAT team at the very least.”
“ Tell me again what this man sounded like, the one who claimed to be the killer. Did he have a European sound, an accent at all?”
“ Honestly, I was so shaken, I… I'm not sure.”
“ Well, the description given you by Gamble sounds like Rosnich.”
“ Only one way to find out.”
“ I'll see you at the location.”
She had hung up, wondering if she should not try Brewer again. But now she must rush. She didn't want to keep Kaseem waiting too long. He was an impatient man. So she rushed out.
The cabdriver was collecting the fare from her when she asked if he would wait.
“ Five minutes tops,” he said mechanically.
She frowned in response, got out and searched for Kaseem, but he was not here. Had he gotten caught in traffic, an accident? What?
She waited to see if he would show up, and in the waiting, she lost the cab. She then decided to go the twenty yards to the door where the windows were covered in thick, heavy, paisley drapes. It was a small building with two floors, cramped into a small space between two identical two-flats. The streetlights gave the place some relief, but the shadows created by the lights were like black holes all around the steps. She thought she saw movement at one window, as if someone had been staring out all along. She felt the cool heftiness of her. 38 Special strapped to her ankle below her pants leg. She could get to it quickly if she had to. A final look around for Kaseem proved futile. She couldn't wait any longer. She rang the bell and waited.
The door swung open on an inward hinge and there stood Gamble, a short, flabby little man, balding, wearing only a pair of socks and thick-lensed glasses. His erection was the largest thing about him, she thought as she prepared to turn and walk away from the bastard, saying, “All right, Mr. Gamble, I'll be leaving now.”
“ No, w-wait!” He stepped out after her, pulling on a robe as he did so, pleading, 'i'mmmmmm so-sorry! Really! It's-you don't unner-stand-it's a sic-sickness with me-”
