Jessica didn't want to give Repasi the pleasure of repeating her story to Lester Osborne. If he must hear it, he'd hear it from her.
J. T. tried to usher her onto the elevator, but she pulled free from his grasp and continued. 'The victim was speaking to me on the phone when he killed her, Lester. He obviously planned it that way. He arranged to murder her for me to… to-''
'For you?'
'For my benefit. For some twisted purpose I can't begin to-'
'Then he-whoever this vile person is-intended for you to be involved in the autopsy, no doubt,' J. T. suddenly realized. 'He killed her because…' He brought himself up short.
'To test me,' she replied. 'To test my abilities against his, to test my reputation? To make a reputation for himself?'
'Dear God,' added Osborne. 'How utterly-'
'Insane,' supplied J. T.
'Ruthless,' finished Osborne.
Repasi had joined them, and overhearing, he added,
'Your reputation always did precede you, Jessica.'
J. T. instantly reacted. 'Not funny, Karl.'
Jessica muttered in soft response, ''He has killed someone simply to… God forbid… to test me. It's too much… too damned much to deal with.''
'Come on, Jessica,' urged J. T. 'I'm taking you to your room.'
'Yes, okay… I've got to find my shoes and change.'
'What you've got to do is lie down, Jess.'
'No, we have an autopsy to perform, J. T.'
'Let Repasi and Osborne handle it.'
'You think so?' She looked at the other two M.E. s-Osborne, the Las Vegas M.E., and Repasi, whose home base these days was Phoenix, Arizona.
'If you get involved in the autopsy, you'll be playing right into this madman's hands, Jess,' suggested Lester Osborne.
J. T. instantly agreed, adding, 'You want another Matisak in your life?'
Repasi and Osborne stared at her, sizing her up, in their own way testing her mettle, all of them familiar with her history of dealing with madmen. She felt so horribly and irrevocably awful about what had happened to Chris Lorentian. Finally Repasi said, 'I think Osborne and Thorpe are right, Coran.' Between the lines he had clearly challenged her. 'Go… go.' He indicated the elevator with a little shrug. 'Do as your friends advise. No one will think any less of you. Osborne and I have everything well in hand. We'll take care of the remains.'
She hesitated only long enough to consider J. T.'s admonition. 'I'll want a full accounting,' she replied when suddenly the fire investigator came storming toward them.
'Lorentian… I just remembered. She's… that is, she could be related to Frank Lorentian.'
'Owner of one of the largest casinos in Vegas,' finished Lester Osborne with a whistle.
Repasi stared a hole through Osborne's chest. 'Lester, you think it could be Mob-related? You know, a professional job, a contract killing?''
Osborne hesitated answering, went to the door and peeked inside, turned, and replied, ''Too messy to be Mob-related.'
'Besides, if that were the case, why'd the killer dial Jessica's number?' added J. T.
Repasi defended his notion, saying, ''Lot of those guys are eccentric types. Maybe he likes fire, likes to watch and wanted to, as she says, taunt her, test her, see if she's as good as the papers say. After all, she has a reputation as the best the FBI has to offer, and guys who travel in Frank Lorentian's circles, well…'
'Then you know who Lorentian is?' asked Osborne.
'I've heard of him, sure.'
Jessica stared hard into Karl Repasi's eyes, angry at the suggestion and all the assumptions that went with his earlier remarks. He'd said nothing of this earlier when he had heard the name Lorentian. But she kept her counsel.
Osborne said with a moan, 'Damn… damn… Frank Lorentian.'
'Can't be sure till we contact him,' cautioned Fairfax. 'Ask him if he's got a Chris in the family and if she's missing. We need some estimate on her age, height, weight, all that…'
Scratching his near-bald head, Osborne asked, 'You found no ID, purse, anything with her?'
'Nada, zip, and the room was registered to a Chris Dunlap.'
'We'll get her vital stats just as soon as you can release the body to the ambulance guys and get it down to my morgue,' assured Osborne, his nose twitching from the stench.
Jessica tried taking deep breaths, but the fire odors were harsh and not to be deeply swallowed. She found the hold button on the elevator, released it, and with J. T. at her side, they floated up three flights to return to the relative safety of her room, but she now wondered at its false security. Once back at her room, she fumbled with the key, her hand shaking, until J. T. grabbed it and steadied her. The god-awful dialogue she'd had with Chris Lorentian moments before the girl was put to the torch kept replaying like a macabre script in her head, and she feared it would ever be there to haunt her, no matter what else came of the crime committed in 1713 tonight.
Inside the room, J. T. solicitously asked if she'd be okay, adding, 'Can I get you a glass of water, twist of lemon?'
'Yes, thanks, and I'll be fine,' she said, trying to sound brave.
'Vodka might be better for me,' he suggested, knowing that Jessica had fought and won a battle with alcohol during the long manhunt for Matthew Matisak.
Misunderstanding him, she quickly replied, 'Not for me, but help yourself to the bar, if you like. Key's on top.'
J. T. found some ice, orange juice, and a dwarf bottle of vodka. He quickly made himself a drink and downed it, and made another. Jessica had already fallen into a chair beside the window, where neon lights reflected up at them.
'Can't see any stars even from way up here,' she mused, staring out at the gray-black sky.
'This lunatic could call you again,' suggested J. T.
'They say… well, Warren Bishop says you've got to go out to the desert to get the full effect of the blanket of stars in the western sky. I spoke to Warren on the phone before we flew out.'
'Maybe you should check out of here, or at least get another room,' J. T. suggested, his thin hand tightly wrapped about the vodka glass.
'He's miles from here by now,' she replied, realizing that moments before she'd been wondering if he might not be in the crowd milling about 1713. 'Besides, I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed, so I want you out.'
J. T. found a seat opposite hers. 'Sure you don't want to go downstairs for a while, be among friends, Jess? The reception's just getting under way, by my calculation.'
'I believe I have to agree with Karl Repasi on that one.'
'Say again?'
'I've already had my macabre reception.'
He groaned in response.
'Go on, enjoy! You can tell me how you made out at the gaming tables tomorrow.'
J. T. smiled, downed his drink, and stood up. ''Yeah, sure. You're probably right about this creep. They're usually cowards in the end, aren't they?'
'They-how can they keep coming and coming?' she asked.
J. T. had no answer for her. He placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder and squeezed. 'I'll look for you in the morning.'
'Meantime, I have this,' she replied, lifting her hefty Browning automatic, the gun that she'd used against Mad Matthew Matisak.
Feydor was pleased with himself, pleased with the work he'd accomplished, pleased that Satan, too, was pleased. Killing number one is nine had given him a great sense of closure. It had also given him a great sense of
