“That’s how we think he operates.”
“Yeah. It was a dumb question. I read the papers and watch the news. Here’s another dumb question: do you think he had time to come back into the building after you drove away?”
Pearl knew what she meant: might he be in the apartment now? “Not such a dumb question, Claire. I don’t think it was possible, but we can have a look to put your mind at ease.” Pearl got her gun from her belt holster, though she was sure it was unnecessary. Sometimes you had to act for show instead of go. Claire was a taxpayer and no fool; if they did find somebody in here, she’d want her protectors able to react and save her from injury or death. “Can I do a walk-through?”
Claire shivered. “Can I stay close?”
Couple of yeses. Pearl smiled. She moved to the side to make sure there wasn’t enough angle for anyone to be crouching concealed behind the far sofa arm; then she walked to the closet by the hall door and opened it.
Nothing but a few coats and bare plastic hangers. And on the single shelf a couple of shoe boxes and a collapsible umbrella.
Pearl continued clearing the apartment, room by room. She went down the short hall to the kitchen, feeling Claire close behind. She groped around the corner and flipped the light switch.
No Night Prowler.
Using faint illumination from the previous rooms, she checked the bathroom, then went into the bedroom, which was brightly lit. Claire watched while Pearl investigated the closets, the small bathroom off the bedroom, even under the bed.
Pearl straightened up and smiled. “We’re alone. Unless there’s another room.”
“The baby’s room,” Claire said. “Baby-to-be.”
Bolder now, she led Pearl down the hall to a closed door. She rotated the knob and pushed the door open, then backed away so Pearl could enter first.
There was enough light from the hall for Pearl to see pretty well, but she threw the wall switch, anyway.
Unoccupied.
Great room! Pearl noticed the stars that had been glittering on the ceiling were no longer visible in the brighter light. There was a section of white picket fence on one wall with painted flowers behind it. A white crib. A padded love seat lined with stuffed animals. The room was ready for baby.
“The stars come out when the light’s turned off?” Pearl asked.
“Every time. Just like outside.” Claire was relaxing now. Whatever threat this night had brought seemed past. “My husband Jubal thinks she-or he-might grow up to be an astronomer.”
“Let me take a look in the closet and we’ll be clear,” Pearl said.
There was a knock on the apartment door, and Claire jumped. “Damn! I didn’t know I was so nervous.”
“Healthy to be nervous,” Pearl assured her. “That should be my boss.”
“Detective Quinn?”
“Yeah.”
“He looks kinda tough, but he seems very nice.”
“Yeah. Wait a minute while I check the closet and we’ll go let him in.”
Pearl walked to the closet door and pulled it open.
Empty. Not even hangers.
“We need to know the sex before we buy baby clothes,” Claire explained.
“Can’t you find that out ahead of time?”
“We’d rather be surprised.”
Another knock on the door.
Pearl holstered her 9mm and led the way to let Quinn in.
Rumpled and tired-looking, he said hello to Claire, smiling to put her at ease. Then he turned to Pearl.
“Any sign of him having been inside?”
“None. We just did a walk-through.”
He only nodded to indicate he’d heard as he looked about, then began idly moving deeper into the apartment.
“Everything’s no doubt fine,” he assured Claire as she and Pearl followed him. He drifted down the hall to the kitchen, the bath…tracing Pearl and Claire’s earlier route, glancing about in case he might notice something they hadn’t. Of course he wouldn’t come right out and tell Pearl that, for fear she’d get ticked off and start acting like… Pearl. “Your husband left town last night?”
“Yes. He took the red-eye to Chicago. An emergency. Well, an emergency if you’re an actor. The understudy who took his place in a play got sick and Jubal had to fill in for him.” Claire realized how ironic that sounded and shook her head with a grin.
“I get you,” Quinn assured her. “The show must go on,” he added unnecessarily, drawing a look from Pearl. Anything to soothe poor Claire.
“Would you like some coffee, now that we’re all awake?” she asked.
Pearl was surprised when he said he would.
When Claire had bustled off to the kitchen to put coffee on, he said to Pearl, “The Night Prowler might not have known hubby wasn’t home. He might have come in here ready to kill if he had to, as usual, then noticed Claire was alone in bed.”
“You think that would’ve stopped him? Being one victim short?”
“He’s always killed in pairs before. It seems to be the happy couple that sets him off.”
“So he might come back when he figures hubby’s returned.”
Quinn smiled. “You’re ahead of me, Pearl.”
Keep it in mind.
He moved away from her, into the child’s room.
“Marvelous,” he said, glancing around.
“When you turn out the lights, there are stars on the ceiling.”
“Really?” But he didn’t try it to see. “If I’d had a room like this as a child, I might have grown up to be president.”
“Probably happier, whatever you turned out to be.”
Claire was back and had heard them. “Look,” she said, and flipped the toggle switch back and forth to demonstrate the stars set in the ceiling.
“Ah, that’s something rare. You’ll be raising a future astronomer-”
Quinn stopped talking when he heard Claire gasp and saw how pale she was. Pale, but her eyes were dark with terror.
“Claire?”
She was pointing at the love seat with its lineup of stuffed animals. “There! That stuffed bear! It wasn’t there! The brown-and-white bear!”
“You’re sure?” Pearl asked, unable to help thinking Claire was sounding a little like Dr. Seuss.
“Positive. I bought all the stuffed animals myself. Four of them. There are five now.” She moved closer to the love seat, so it was obvious she was pointing at a small brown-and-white bear with a toothy smile. It was wedged between a stuffed dog and a fuzzy alligator and was wearing a pinstripe baseball uniform and a Yankees cap. “It wasn’t there before!”
“We believe you,” Quinn told her. He absently clutched her shoulder and squeezed gently to reassure her.
Then he went to the bear and picked it up, wondering if the paw he couldn’t see, because of the way the bear was angled between the stuffed animals flanking it, would be wearing a fielder’s glove or catcher’s mitt.
It was wearing neither.
It was clutching a single yellow rose.
64
