key, got out of the car, and gathered the reservations books in her arms.
Sterling walked to the front door, admiring the attractive shrubbery that was lightly coated with snow.
As soon as Nor opened the door, shut off the alarm, and switched on the light, he realized that she also had great taste. The ground floor was a single, very large room with white walls and wooden floors. A raised-hearth fireplace defined the living room area. At a right angle to it stood a floor to-ceiling-Christmas tree, decorated with strings of candle-shaped bulbs. The bottom three tiers clearly bore Marissa’s touch. Handmade paper ornaments, a quantity of tinsel, and a dozen candy canes demonstrated her idea of how a Christmas tree should look.
Overstuffed couches, Persian area rugs, fine antique furnishings, and first-class paintings filled the rest of the room. The effect was that of vivid serenity-if there is such a thing, Sterling thought.
“Cup of cocoa,” Nor murmured as she kicked off her shoes. She walked to the kitchen area, dropped the reservations books on the table, and opened the refrigerator. Hating to rush, Sterling scurried from painting to painting. These are valuable, he thought. I wish I had a chance to really study them. An English hunting scene particularly intrigued him.
As the attorney for a number of family trusts when he was alive, he’d developed an eye for good art. They used to tell me I could have been an appraiser, he remembered.
A staircase to the second floor beckoned him. One quick look and then I’m off, he promised himself.
Nor’s bedroom was the largest. Framed pictures were on the bureau, the dressing table, and the night tables. These were all personal and many of them were of a much younger Nor with Billy’s father. There were at least a half-dozen of Billy with his parents, starting from the time he was an infant. He seemed to be about six years old in the last one that showed the three of them together.
Sterling poked his head into the first of the other two bedrooms. It was small but cozy, with the uncluttered look of a guest room.
The third door was closed. The small porcelain tile on it said MARISSA’S PLACE. As he opened the door, Sterling felt a lump in his throat. This child is about to lose out on so much in this upcoming year, he thought.
The room was enchanting. White wicker furniture. Blue-and-white wallpaper. White eyelet bedspread and curtains. Shelves of books on one wall. A desk with a bulletin board against another.
He heard Nor’s footsteps on the stairs. It was time to go. Remembering the door had been closed, he quietly pulled it shut, then watched as Nor went into her room. A moment later, with the collar of his chesterfield turned up, his homburg pulled down as far as he could get it, Sterling walked briskly down the road.
I’ve got several hours to kill, he thought. Billy’s probably asleep. Maybe I’ll just drop by and look in on Marissa. But where exactly does she live? I never was too good at directions.
Until now there’d been plenty of activity to keep him occupied, but with everyone going to bed, he felt a little lonely as he trudged through the quiet streets.
Should I try to contact the Heavenly Council? he wondered. Or will they decide I can’t do the job? And if so, what then?
Suddenly something caught his eye.
What’s that?
A piece of paper was fluttering from the sky. It stopped falling when it was directly in front of him. Sterling plucked it out of the air, unfolded it, and walked to the next street lamp to read it.
It was a map of the village. Marissa’s home and Nor’s Place were clearly indicated. A dotted line started at a point marked “you are here” and gave specific directions-“four blocks east… turn left one block, then right”-showing him the way to Marissa’s house. A second dotted line illustrated the way from there back to the restaurant.
Sterling looked up, past the moon, past the stars, into eternity. Thank you. I am very grateful, he whispered.
No matter how late the hour, Dennis Madigan always read the
Tonight, however, he could not concentrate on the paper. He knew neither Nor nor Billy realized that their lives could be in serious danger. If the Badgetts were as bad as Sean O’Brien portrayed them… Dennis shook his head. When he worked in bars in Manhattan, he’d seen and heard a lot about their kind. None of it good.
Very. “Wery.” What is this reminding me of? he asked himself as he irritably flipped through the pages of the newspaper. Nor thinks the man might be someone who comes into the restaurant. He can’t be a regular, though, or I’d know him.
“Wery,” he said aloud.
Joan opened her eyes and blinked. “What?”
“Nothing. Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she turned her back to him.
Dennis skipped to the
Still not remotely sleepy even though it was 3:30, he began to skim the restaurant pages. The write-up on a new midtown restaurant caught his eye. “We started with vichyssoise…,” the columnist began.
Sounds like a good joint, Dennis thought. Have to check it out. He and Joan enjoyed going into the city occasionally and trying new places.
He stared at the paper. Vichyssoise. He remembered a smart aleck waiter at Nor’s-one who didn’t last long-joking that a customer who ordered “wichyssoise” last time, now would like a cup of “wegetable” soup.
What’s the customer’s name? Dennis thought. I can see him. He and his wife always had a cocktail at the bar. Nice people. I didn’t think of him right away because that’s the only hint of an accent he had, and he hasn’t been around in a long time…
In his mind, he could see a face. He’s local, Dennis thought. And his name… his name… it sounds European…
That’s it! That’s his name!
Dennis grabbed the phone. Nor answered on the first ring. “Nor, I’ve got it. The guy on the answering machine. Could it be Hans Kramer?”
“Hans Kramer,” she said, slowly. “That doesn’t ring a bell with me. I don’t remember…”
“Think, Nor. He ordered ‘wichyssoise’ and ‘wegetable’ soup.”
“Oh my God, of course… you’re right.” Nor leaned on one elbow and pulled herself up. Sean O’Brien’s card was propped against the lamp on her night table. As she reached for it she could feel adrenaline surging through her body.
“I know Kramer has something to do with computers, Dennis. Maybe he has a warehouse. I’ll call Sean O’Brien this minute. I just hope we’re not too late.”
As Sterling approached Marissa’s house, everything looked quiet and peaceful. All was dark inside except for a faint light shining through an upstairs window.
My mother used to leave the hall light on for me, he remembered. And she’d leave my bedroom door open a crack so I could see it. I was chicken, he thought with a smile. Never mind the light, I slept with my teddy bear till I was ten.
Noting a small sign that indicated the house was wired against intruders, he slipped inside, not bothering to open the door just in case the alarm was on. He had the feeling that the Heavenly Council wanted him to move around like everybody else except when it prevented him from doing his job, but he was very sure they didn’t want him setting off alarms.
