Death Mask

“When she was pulling at the doors, though, she must have dislodged whatever it was the perpetrator had used to jam the elevator. It started to travel downward again, and at some point the perpetrator climbed out of it and escaped.”

“Jesus, there are some crazies around,” said Trevor.

“If you can’t even get into an elevator in a crowded office building without being attacked. ”

“Is the girl okay?” asked Sissy. “I mean, considering what she’s been through.”

“She’s still in shock, but she’s not as traumatized as I thought she would be. Some assault victims can’t say a single word that makes any sense at all. sometimes for weeks. Sometimes never.”

“Did she know the man who attacked her?”

“Unh-unh. She gave me a very vivid description, but he’s not the kind of man that you would want to know, believe me. She said he was tall, and kind of blocky, but it was his face that really made an impression on her. She said that his face was very red, almost like he was wearing a red mask.”

Sissy reached across the table and picked up the DeVane cards. She sorted through them until she found la Blanchisseuse, the Laundress. She passed it over to Trevor and said, “Just as the cards predicted. A red-faced man, high up on a ladder. Of course they didn’t have elevators when these cards were first drawn. A young woman, and a tub full of blood. In other words, a bloodbath.”

“Coincidence, Momma, coincidence. You’re always reading things into things when there isn’t anything there.”

“I don’t think so. Not this time. Another card predicted that somebody would create a likeness of a man with blood on his hands, and what do you think Molly has been doing this evening?”

“Was he really so red in the face?” asked Trevor.

“That’s how the girl described him.”

“Maybe he was wearing face paint. You know — trying to look like a demon, or Darth Maul out of Star Wars, so that he would scare people more.”

Molly shrugged. “Maybe. But he didn’t need to put on face paint to scare her. She was scared enough already. She was absolutely sure that she was going to die.”

“So what do the police think?” asked Trevor.

“Right now, nothing conclusive. They’re checking out the murdered guy’s background, in case this ‘Red Mask’ maniac knew him and bore him any grudges. He worked in realty, so that’s perfectly possible. CIS are going over the crime scene and asking a whole lot of office workers a whole lot of questions. But there’s not much more that they can do, not tonight.”

“Are you going to be on TV?” said Trevor.

“Not me. But my sketch is. Mind you, they’ve put it out on the Internet already.”

CHAPTER SEVEN Cicadas Coming

Over the yard, a three-quarters moon hung suspended, so orange that it was almost crimson. Although it was nearly 10:00 P.M., the air was still thick and warm. Sissy looked up to the sky and said, “Can you feel something stirring?”

“Oh God, I hope not,” said Molly. “Not yet, anyhow.”

“Make sure you close your bedroom window tonight, Momma,” Trevor warned her. “And close it real tight.”

“They’re only bugs, surely,” said Sissy.

“Of course they’re only bugs. They won’t harm you and they won’t sting you. But you never came to Cincinnati in cicada season before. They come out in billions, and they fly, and they get everywhere. Why do you think I’ve covered the pool and hung muslin over the peach trees?”

“You never told me that they were such a nuisance.”

“I was trying to be stoical, Momma, on account of having a job here and not being able to relocate. But they get caught in your hair, they block up your ventilation, and they get spattered all over your windshield when you’re driving to work. That’s why we never have outdoor picnics in cicada season — they keep dive-bombing the potato salad.”

“The worst thing about them is the noise,” said Molly. “It’s the males, trying to find a mate. They screech and they screech and they never let up. That’s because they know they only have six weeks to live, max.”

“Can’t they be exterminated?”

“Only by digging up the whole of Greater Cincinnati to a depth of nine inches, which is where they brood. No — the only answer is to put up with them, and step on as many as you can. Or take a vacation until they’re gone. Most people make a joke of them. Some people even stir-fry them and eat them with water chestnuts.”

“I think I’ll pass on that,” said Sissy.

They took their glasses of wine and went inside, and Trevor closed and sealed the yard door behind them. “By the way, Momma, if you find a couple of cicadas in your bed, don’t panic. They’re only sexually interested in female cicadas.”

“Don’t talk dirty to your mother,” Sissy admonished him, slapping his arm.

He switched on the flat-screen TV in the living room and flicked it on to Channel 5, WLWT. “These guys are always good for the crime du jour.”

They had to sit through a finance commercial for re-modeling your home until it looked like a sitcom set, but then the two news anchors appeared on screen with serious expressions on their faces. Molly’s sketch of the red- faced man was displayed behind them with the subtitle RED MASK MURDER.

“Cincinnati police tonight are still searching for a knife-wielding attacker who stabbed and killed a forty-one- year-old downtown Realtor and left a twenty-five-year-old legal secretary with serious injuries.

“The vicious attack occurred in an elevator car on the fifteenth floor of the Giley Building on Race Street. When the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened, shocked office workers were confronted by what one of them described as a slaughterhouse.”

There were jiggly, handheld interviews with Jimmy and Newton and the shirtsleeved accountant, as well as other witnesses, with police lights flashing in the background.

“Dude, the doors opened up, and it was like, oh my God, blood!”

“ — of course I checked the man for any signs of life, but — ”

“ — didn’t see nobody leaving the building, nobody suspicious looking, anyhow — ”

“ — quiet, hardworking family man, so far as I could tell — ”

“ — tragic — ”

From police headquarters, a statement was given by Lieutenant Colonel James L. Whalen, commander of the investigation bureau. He had snowy white hair and a very bronze face, and he spoke in a solemn monotone, with unusual pauses.

“Despite the best efforts of the thirty CPD officers and dog handlers who attended the scene within a matter of minutes. The perpetrator has still not been apprehended, and we have found no witnesses who saw him either enter the Giley Building or leave it.

“So far, we have no clues whatsoever. As to who might have committed this heinous act, or what his motive might have been. But the young woman who was badly injured before the assailant made his getaway. Has helped a police forensic artist to create a very striking representation of her attacker.”

Trevor turned around gave Sissy a look that she didn’t really understand, as if he were disappointed or upset.

Lieutenant Colonel Whalen pointed to the drawing. “We are giving the suspect the nickname of Red Mask. Because it will be easier for people to recall if they have ever seen him, of if they see him now. His face is very reddened, possibly sunburned, and his eyes are narrow.”