Final Breath

'Well, can't you call in sick?' he countered. 'I'd really like to see you, Jill. And if we meet for breakfast, we'll have the rest of the day together--if we want. I know it's what I'd like.'

Jill let out an exasperated, giddy, little laugh. 'I'm tempted...'

'C'mon, let's do it,' he urged her.

'I guess I could call in tomorrow with some excuse,' she said, leaning on the counter.

'That's my girl,' he said on the other end of the line.

Jill felt absolutely light-headed while he explained that he'd pick her up in front of Seattle's Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park. It wasn't too far from her apartment. And they could walk or drive to the Coastal Kitchen for brunch--depending on their mood. And then they'd see where the day took them.

'Sydney, that sounds awesome,' she said into the cell phone. A customer walked into the flower shop, but Jill turned her back to her.

'Then it's a date,' he said on the other end of the line. 'Listen, I need to cancel that order from yesterday, the one to Mrs. Joseph McCloud at number nine, Tudor Court in Seattle. It didn't work out with the client the way I planned. Did that order go out yet?'

'Not yet,' she replied. 'We'll just credit it back to your account. You still have a lot of money left over from that cash deposit you made.'

'I may have a couple of more orders for delivery tomorrow,' he said. 'One will be to a Seattle address and another to someone with the last name Finch in Evanston. I'll phone them in later today. But if we don't connect, we're still on for brunch tomorrow morning, aren't we?'

'We sure are,' Jill replied. 'It's a date, Sydney.'

The overly tanned, forty-something blond woman answering Mr. Demick's front door was wearing a tennis outfit. A pair of sunglasses were perched on top of her head. 'Yes?' she said, with a slightly icy look.

Standing on the front stoop in his tie and short sleeve shirt, Eli wondered if she, too, thought he was a Jehovah's Witness. He showed her the manila envelope. 'I have something here that requires a signature from Mr. Burton C. Demick.'

She nodded. 'Oh, well, come on in.' She called over her shoulder. 'Honey, you need to sign for this! Burt?' There was no answer. With a big sigh, she rolled her eyes. 'Wait here just a minute,' she muttered, heading off to a room on her right. 'Burt? Burt, for Christ's sake, I'm going to be late for my tennis lesson. You've got to sign for this...'

Her voice faded. Eli waited in the front hallway, a very pale green foyer with a marble floor and a sparkling crystal chandelier overhead. Demick's house was one of those newly built 'McMansions'--set back from the street on an isolated piece of property with a lot of trees.

During the cab ride here, Eli kept thinking about that man. I'm a friend of your dad's, the guy had said. If he was really a buddy of his father's, why was he sneaking around like that? How come his mom hadn't recognized him when she'd first spotted him in their driveway?

The taxi here had cost twenty-two bucks, which had practically cleaned him out. Eli had paid the driver, and sent him away. Now he wasn't sure how he'd get home.

Eli heard footsteps, and he glanced up to see Mr. Demick coming down the hallway. He wore a turquoise golf shirt, white shorts, and sandals. His legs and arms were tanned and hairless. Demick's eyes locked onto his, and he seemed to balk at the sight of him.

Eli nervously cleared his throat. 'Hi, Mr. Demick. My name is Eli. I don't know if you remember me from yesterday--'

'Yes, I remember you,' he said. He had a strange half-smile on his face that didn't quite conceal his irritation. 'My wife thought you were a messenger boy. What are you doing here?'

'Um, I just had one more question for you, sir,' Eli said. 'I was wondering if Earl or Mrs. Sayers ever mentioned someone named Chris.'

'Chris,' he repeated.

Eli nodded. 'It might even be short for Christine. I'm not sure if it's a man or a woman.' He reached inside the manila envelope and pulled out the old Hallmark card. 'Y'see, the reason I got interested in Earl and his mother was because I live in their old place by the beach at Lake Washington. And I found this card today.'

Demick frowned. 'I don't have my glasses. Come on into my study.'

Eli followed him down the hall and into a room with a big, mahogany desk. A state-of-the-art computer monitor sat on top of it, along with a large antique lamp that had a bronze golfer figurine as its base and a golf-ball design on the shade. On one wall there were old framed prints of people golfing and some framed diplomas. Behind the desk was a floor-to-ceiling picture window with individual little panes; a few of them had stained-glass designs. But it didn't obscure the view to the large, well-manicured backyard. There was a patio just outside that window with some wrought-iron furniture.

'I don't remember Earl or his mother ever talking about someone named Chris,' Demick said, retrieving his glasses from a pile of paperwork on his desk. He slipped them on, then reached for the Hallmark card. 'Let's have a look at that...'

Eli handed it to him. 'You know how you said you weren't sure at first if Mrs. Sayers killed Earl and herself. Well, this Chris person could have done it. I mean, he's really mad in that letter. And the postmark is just a few days before Mrs. Sayers and Earl were killed.'

Demick opened the card and read it. A sour look passed over his face, and he heaved a sigh as he closed the card and handed it back to him. 'You're right, Eli,' he said finally. 'I think we should show this to the police. Have you contacted them?'

Shrugging, Eli shook his head. 'I haven't even told my uncle about this yet. In fact, would it be okay if I called and told him where I am? I just want to let him know I'm okay.'

'Certainly,' Demick said, nodding at the phone on his desk. 'Help yourself. Sit down. I can leave if you want some privacy.'

'No, this is fine,' Eli said, walking around to his side of the desk. He reached for the phone. 'Thanks very much.'

Demick opened the top side drawer. 'I have this police lieutenant's business card in here...'

Eli was about to dial his uncle's number when he noticed a yellow legal pad on Mr. Demick's desk. He'd scribbled some notes, and at the bottom of that top page, Eli read: 'Despite everything, I recommend that all parties concerned...' It was the exact same sloppy script that had scrawled those words, 'Despite everything, I still love you...'

Eli glanced at the antique brass name plate on the fancy pen holder: Burton Christopher Demick.

He turned toward Mr. Demick, and froze.

Loretta and Earl's killer had a gun in his hand.

'It was you,' Eli murmured. The receiver fell out of his hand. 'But you--you were Earl's friend...'

With an icy stare, Demick nodded. 'And the poor sap had no idea I was fucking his bitch mother for over a year.'

All at once, he reeled back, then brought the butt end of the gun down on Eli's head. 'Snoopy little bastard,' he growled.

It was the last thing Eli heard before he collapsed to the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sydney gazed at Joe's handsome profile and the Band-Aid covering the cut from the piece of glass that had hit him on the train platform. She sat in the front with him in his Honda Civic as they drove along Mannheim to O'Hare. Joe's eyes were riveted to the road ahead.

He'd spent most of the day answering questions and trying to convince his fellow cops that this morning's sniper incident might not have been gang-related. He hadn't won any converts with his theory of a hero-killer. He hadn't mentioned anything about the hero-killings to the press. 'There just isn't enough evidence to go public with it