The Mephisto Club

“I told you. I came straight home from O’Donnell’s house.”

“And you stayed inside for the rest of the night?”

“I didn’t leave the house.”

“Did Father Brophy?”

The question, asked so matter-of-factly, startled Maura into silence. After a moment, she sank into a chair at the kitchen table but said nothing, just stared down at her coffee.

“How long did he stay?” asked Jane. Still no emotion in her voice, still the cop, although Maura knew there was disapproval behind that question, and guilt tightened its fist around her throat.

“He stayed most of the night.”

“Till what time?”

“I don’t know. It was still dark when he left.”

“And what did you two do while he was here?”

“This isn’t relevant.”

“You know it is. We’re talking about what the killer might have seen through your windows. What might have inspired him to write those words on your door. Were your living room lights on the whole night? Were you and Brophy sitting there, talking?”

Maura heaved out a breath. “No. The lights…they were off.”

“The house was dark.”

“Yes.”

“And someone standing outside, watching your windows, would have to assume-”

“You know what the hell they’d assume.”

“Would they be right?”

Maura met her gaze. “I was freaked out last night, Jane! Daniel was there for me. He’s always been there for me. We didn’t plan for this to happen. It’s the only time-the one time-” Her voice faded. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Jane sat down at the kitchen table as well. “You know, those words take on new meaning. I have sinned.”

“We’ve all sinned,” shot back Maura. “Each and every damn one of us.”

“I’m not criticizing you, okay?”

“Yes you are. You think I can’t hear it in your voice?”

“If you’re feeling guilty, Doc, it’s not because of anything I said.”

Maura stared back at Jane’s unrelenting gaze and thought, She’s right, of course. My guilt is all my own.

“We will have to talk to Father Brophy about this, you know. About what happened last night.”

Maura gave a resigned sigh. “Please, when you do talk to him, just keep it discreet.”

“I’m not exactly bringing in the TV cameras, okay?”

“Detective Frost doesn’t have to know about this.”

“Of course he has to know. He’s my partner.”

Maura dropped her head in her hands. “Oh, God.”

“This is relevant to the case, and you know it. If I didn’t tell Frost, he’d have every right to cry foul.”

So I won’t be able to look at Frost again without seeing a reflection of my own guilt, thought Maura, cringing at the thought of Frost’s reaction. One’s reputation was such a fragile thing; one tiny crack and it disintegrates. For two years, they had regarded her as the queen of the dead, the unflappable medical examiner who could gaze without flinching at sights that turned the stomachs of even the most seasoned investigators. Now they’d look at her and see the weaknesses, the flaws of a lonely woman.

Footsteps thumped on the front porch. It was Frost, coming back into the house. She did not want to be present when he learned the tawdry truth. Uptight, upright Barry Frost would be shocked to hear who’d been sleeping in her bed.

But he was not the only person who’d just stepped into the house. Maura heard voices talking, and she looked up in sudden recognition as Anthony Sansone swept into the kitchen, followed by Frost.

“Are you all right?” Sansone asked her.

Jane said, “This really isn’t a good time for a visit, Mr. Sansone. Would you mind stepping outside?”

He ignored Jane; his gaze stayed on Maura. He was not dressed in black today, but in shades of gray. A tweed jacket, an ash-colored shirt. So different from Daniel, she thought; this man I cannot read, and he makes me uncomfortable.

“I just saw the markings on your door,” he said. “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometime last night.”

“I should have driven you home myself.”

Jane cut in. “I really think you should leave now.”

“Wait,” said Frost. “You need to hear what he says, about what’s on the door. What it might mean.”

“I have sinned? I think the meaning is pretty obvious.”

“Not the words,” said Sansone. “The symbols beneath them.”

“We’ve already heard about the all-seeing eye. Your friend Oliver Stark explained it.”

“He may have been mistaken.”

“You don’t agree that it’s the eye of Horus?”

“I think it may represent something else entirely.” He looked at Maura. “Come outside and I’ll explain it to you.”

Maura had no wish to once again confront those accusing words on her door, but his sense of urgency forced her to follow him. Stepping outside onto the porch, she paused, blinking against the sun’s glare. It was such a beautiful Sunday morning, a morning to linger over coffee and the newspaper. Instead she was afraid to sit in her own house, afraid to look at her own front door.

She took a breath and turned to confront what had been drawn in ocher that was the color of dried blood. The words I have sinned screamed at her, an accusation that made her want to shrink, to hide her guilty face.

But it was not the words that Sansone focused on. He pointed to the two symbols drawn below them. The larger one they had seen before, on his garden door.

“That looks exactly like the all-seeing eye to me,” said Jane.

“But look at this other symbol,” said Sansone, pointing to a figure near the bottom of the door. It was so small, it almost seemed like an afterthought. “Drawn in ocher, as at the other crime scenes.”

Jane said, “How did you know about the ocher?”

“My colleagues need to see this. To confirm what I think it represents.” He took out his cell phone.

“Wait,” said Jane. “This isn’t some public showing.”

“Do you know how to interpret this, Detective? Do you have any idea where to start? If you want to find this killer, you’d better understand his thinking. His symbols.” He began to dial. Jane did not stop him.

Maura dropped to a crouch so that she could study the bottom sketch. She stared at arching horns, a triangular head, and slitted eyes. “It looks like a goat,” she said. “But what does it mean?” She gazed up at Sansone. Backlit by the morning glare, he was a towering figure, black and faceless.

“It represents Azazel,” he said. “It’s a symbol of the Watchers.”

“Azazel was the chief of the Se’irim,” said Oliver Stark. “They were goat demons who haunted the ancient deserts before Moses, before the pharaohs. All the way back in the age of Lilith.”

“Who’s Lilith?” asked Frost.

Edwina Felway looked at Frost in surprise. “You don’t know about her?”

Frost gave an embarrassed shrug. “I have to admit, I’m not all that well-versed in the Bible.”

“Oh, you won’t find Lilith in the Bible,” said Edwina. “She’s long been banished from accepted Christian doctrine, although she does have a place in Hebrew legend. She was Adam’s first wife.”

“Adam had another wife?”

“Yes, before Eve.” Edwina smiled at his startled face. “What, you think the Bible tells the whole story?”