Fever Dream

'No,' came the quick, sharp reply. 'They are long dead and gone.'

'I'm sorry. First, I wonder if you could help me out with a detail here--we're having a little trouble locating your legal records. Do you happen to know your Social Security number?'

'I don't have a Social Security number.'

'Where were you born?'

'Here in New York City. On Water Street.'

'The name of the hospital?'

'I was born at home.'

'I see.' Hayward decided to give up this particular line; their legal department would eventually straighten it out, and, if the truth be admitted, she was just avoiding the difficult questions to come.

'Constance, I'm in the homicide division, but this isn't my case. I'm just here on a fact-finding mission. You're under no obligation to answer any of my questions and this is not official. Do you understand?'

'I understand perfectly, thank you.'

Once again Hayward was struck by the old-fashioned cadence of her speech; something about the way she held herself; something in those eyes, so old and wise, that seemed out of place in such a young body.

She took a deep breath. 'Did you really throw your baby into the ocean?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because he was evil. Like his father.'

'And the father is...?'

'Dead.'

'What was his name?'

Silence fell in the room. The cool violet eyes never wavered from her own, and Hayward understood, better than from anything Greene might have said, that she would never, ever answer the question.

'Why did you come back? You were abroad--why come home now?'

'Because Aloysius will need my help.'

'Help? What sort of help?'

Constance remained motionless. 'He is unprepared to face the betrayal that awaits him.'

30

Savannah, Georgia

JUDSON ESTERHAZY STOOD AMID THE ANTIQUES and overstuffed furniture of his den, looking out one of the tall windows facing Whitfield Square, now deserted. A chill rain dripped from the palmettos and central cupola, collecting in puddles on the brick pavements of Habersham Street. To D'Agosta, standing beside him, Helen's brother seemed different on this visit. The easygoing, courtly manner had vanished. The handsome face appeared troubled, tense, its features drawn.

'And she never mentioned her interest in parrots, the Carolina Parakeet in particular?'

Esterhazy shook his head. 'Never.'

'And the Black Frame? You never heard her mention it, even in passing?'

Another shake of the head. 'This is all new to me. I'm as much at a loss to explain it as you are.'

'I know how painful this must be.'

Esterhazy turned from the window. His jaw worked in what to D'Agosta seemed barely controlled rage. 'Not nearly as painful as learning of this fellow Blast. You say he has a record?'

'Of arrests. No convictions.'

'That doesn't mean he's innocent,' Esterhazy said.

'Quite the opposite,' said D'Agosta.

Esterhazy glanced his way. 'And not just things like blackmail and forgery. You mentioned assault and battery.'

D'Agosta nodded.

'And he was after this--this Black Frame, too?'

'As bad as anybody ever wanted anything,' said D'Agosta.

Esterhazy's hands clenched; he turned back to the window.

'Judson,' Pendergast said, 'remember what I told you--'

'You lost a wife,' Esterhazy said over his shoulder, 'I lost a little sister. You never quite get over it but at least you can come to terms with it. But now, to learn this...' He drew in a long breath. 'And not only that, but this criminal might have been involved in some way--'

'We don't know that for a fact,' Pendergast said.