Death Mask

Detective Bellman listened to all of this wearily, without making notes. When Sissy had finished, he said, “How am I supposed to file a report on this?”

“I don’t know. It depends if you believe it or not.”

“No, it doesn’t. It depends if my lieutenant takes me off the case and sends me for a psych evaluation. It’s madness. It’s like something out of Alice in Wonderland. Playing cards, coming to life.”

“Where do you think Lewis Carroll got the idea from? It’s been recorded in so many cultures. pictures that step out of their frames and sculptures that move.”

Detective Bellman took another swig of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, it’s not going to be recorded in the Cincinnati Police Department culture. It’s going to stay our little secret, capiche?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Facing the Giant

They ate a subdued supper that night. Molly was too tired and distracted to cook, so Trevor went to Blue Ash Chili and brought home three four-ways and one five-way for Sissy, who didn’t believe that a chili was a chili without beans. She didn’t really believe that chili should be eaten with spaghetti, either.

“Who eats chili with spaghetti?” she said. “It’s against God’s law.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Trevor told her. “One day, when you’re back in New Milford, you’ll think to yourself, ‘I just got to have myself a Cincinnati five-way — chili, cheddar, onions, and beans, all on top of a big pile of spaghetti — and I got to have it now!’ ”

Victoria said, “Isn’t Grandpa coming for supper?”

Sissy glanced at Molly. If they were going to recreate Frank to go after the second Red Mask, then she didn’t want to say, Grandpa had to go away — not yet.

“Grandpa had some business he needed to attend to,” she said. “Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Is Grandpa going to come live with us, like Grandma?”

“You understand that he isn’t your real grandpa? He’s just like a picture of your grandpa, except that he can walk and talk?”

“I know,” said Victoria. “But that doesn’t matter. He’s still my grandpa, isn’t he? And he can come to my school and everything and see my play?”

“Victoria, sweetheart,” said Sissy, taking hold of her hand. “I’m really not sure how long Grandpa will be able to stay with us.”

“I’ll tell him he has to stay forever.”

Sissy thought about that, and then she said, “Okay. That sounds like a plan. When a granddaughter has asked for something — anything — what grandpa in recorded history has ever been able to say no?”

Sissy could eat only a few spoonfuls of chili. She was trying hard not to show it, but seeing Frank burn up today had shocked her badly. She couldn’t stop herself from shivering, even though the evening was so warm, and she felt the same iron-cold hopelessness in her heart that she had felt twenty-four years ago, when the state troopers had knocked on her door.

She must have been mad to suggest that Molly bring Frank back. But she had been so worried about how Frank would feel that she had forgotten her own emotions — especially her grief.

“Not hungry, Momma?” Trevor asked her. “Don’t worry about it. Mr. Boots loves five-way chili.”

“You’re not going to give it to Mr. Boots, are you?” asked Victoria. “He always makes such horrible smells.”

“Actually, I think that’s Daddy,” said Molly. “He just blames it on Mr. Boots, that’s all, and poor Mr. Boots can’t say, ‘Hey — it wasn’t me!’ can he?”

She started to collect up the plates, but then the phone rang. She answered it and said, “Sawyer residence.”

Somebody must have answered, because she frowned, and said, “Who is this?”

Trevor stood up. “What is it, honey? Give it to me.”

Molly covered the mouthpiece with her hand and stared at them wide-eyed. “I think it’s Red Mask.”

Trevor said, “Give it to me!”

But Sissy said, “No! This could be important! Switch on the speaker and let’s hear what he has to say! Victoria — can you do something for me? I want you to take Mr. Boots outside and give him this chili, okay?”

“But — ”

“Victoria, this is something you don’t need to hear, okay? Now be a good girl and feed Mr. Boots for me.”

Molly said, “How did you get my number?”

She listened, and said, “I see.” But she waited until Victoria had left the kitchen before she switched on the speaker.

“You’re trying to track me down, aren’t you, Molly?” said Red Mask. “You created me, so you think you have the divine right to hunt me down and destroy me.”

“You’re a mass murderer,” Molly retorted. “What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to take the responsibility for your own creation, Molly. Is it my fault if I’m so driven by revenge? I have to have justice, Molly — it’s in my blood, or what passes for blood when you’re nothing but paper and pencils and paints.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough justice? Why don’t you stop, and show some mercy?”

“I can’t, Molly. It’s not the way I was painted. I thought I might be able to stop, but now I know that I can’t. You killed me today, burned me. But I didn’t feel nothing. It wasn’t cathartic. I didn’t feel purged. What I felt was even more vengeful. I felt like killing even more people, scores of people, hundreds of people! I wanted to see their blood spraying like warm summer rain!”

“You have to stop,” Molly told him. “If you don’t stop yourself, then I’ll stop you, and that’s a promise.”

There was a long pause, during which they could hear Red Mask breathing, almost like a single cicada clicking. Eventually he said, “Making a promise like that, Molly, that was a serious error of judgment. If you make a promise to come after me, then by God I’ll make you a promise to come after you.”

“Hang up!” hissed Trevor. But Sissy raised her hand. She wanted to hear everything that Red Mask had to say.

“You’d better keep looking behind you,” he breathed. “You’d better watch out for every shadow on every wall. And you’d better keep your loved ones close to you, too. Yours was the very first face I saw when I was created, Molly. Make sure that the very last face you see in your life isn’t mine.”

Trevor snatched the phone, and snapped, “You listen to me, you SOB —!” But there was a clattering sound, and Red Mask hung up.

Trevor said, “That’s it! That’s it! I’m not having my family threatened! We’re going to go after this psycho first thing tomorrow! We’re going to find him and we’re going to burn him, the same as we did today!”

Sissy said, “I need a drink. Not only that, I need a cigarette.”

She went outside into the backyard. Victoria was sitting on the kitchen steps, watching Mr. Boots as he wolfed down his five-way chili.

“Mr. Boots likes spaghetti, doesn’t he?”

Sissy lit her Marlboro. “Mr. Boots likes everything, except for tuna.”

She sat down next to Victoria and blew smoke into the warm evening air.

“Why do you do that, Grandma? It’s really, really dangerous.”

“I know. I’m a fool. I’ve tried to give it up more times than I can count. But, you know, every time I light a cigarette, I hear your grandpa’s voice saying, ‘When are you going to stop smoking, Sissy?’ And I guess that hearing