Part 37 (1/2)
”Someone . . . I know?”
”In a manner of speaking.”
”Not just Va.s.sar.”
Max shook his head. His hand didn't shake as he lifted the gla.s.s to his lips again, but Temple sensed that it might have if he had allowed such a thing.
”Who? Max, tell me now. I can't stand this waffling around. It's so unlike you.”
”She's gone. Kathleen O'Connor. Dead.”
”Kitty the Cutter dead? Not possible!”
”Believe it. Devine ID'ed her for Molina this morning, and besides, I was there when it happened. She's in cold storage at the medical examiner's facility, waiting for next of kin to claim her. There won't be any. Only enemies.”
”Dead? After making all our lives so miserable? People like that don't just . . . die.”
”Effinger did.”
”Yes, but you're sure it's her? Both you and Matt? And Molina buys it?”
”The medical examiner buys it. It's undeniable. Even your Midnight Louie witnessed the accident.”
”Louie! He was out earlier, but ... when?”
Max shook his head. ”Not today. Two nights ago.”
”And no one told me?”
”Not our fault, Temple.”
”You speaking for Matt now, too? Mr. Zipped Lips?”
”Not our fault,” he repeated. ”We had a lot to do. I had to call emergency personnel from a phone that couldn't be traced to me, dump the Maxima, and stay low. Devine had to answer Molina' s summons and go stare at the dead body. We haven't much felt like talking to anyone human in forty-eight hours, or like explaining ourselves.”
”Or how you feel about this,” Temple added shrewdly. ”Dead. For you guys it must be like . . . the twin towers falling. No. More like the upside-down world turned right-side up again, like gravity has reversed itself.”
”Yeah,” Max held the whiskey gla.s.s in both hands before his face, as if it were a fire capable of casting warmth and light. ”Her evil pull was like some counterforce I was so used to fighting that I've lost all energy to stand on my own. She was out there somewhere. I'd sensed her hatred for so long, it almost seems unnatural to live without it in the world.”
”Kind of how Matt felt about his abusive stepfather.”
Max nodded. ”Given a nemesis like either one of them, you start to wonder if you don't deserve it somehow.” Max looked at Temple for the first time, straight on. ”He must have thought about killing her, you know. Before he tried Va.s.sar. He knew he could. He had enough martial arts training to do it. And she . . . was a small woman. Perfectly killable, except you'd become her and then she'd go on anyway, wouldn't she?”
”Matt? It crossed his mind to kill? How can you be so sure?”
”She threatened everyone he knew and cared about. It crossed his mind. Mine too.”
Temple took a deep breath. ”So that's what you two talked about, your homicidal impulses?”
”We also talked about our mutual guilt.”
”For thinking that way, and then getting your wish?”
”For being that desperate. And then, Fate steps in and kills her for us. And now we're feeling guilty because Fate had the guts to do what we didn't.”
”Max, start from the beginning. How did she die, and when, and how on earth was Louie present?”
”It began Sunday night, at Neon Nightmare. I have no idea how or why your cat was there, but he ended up in my car.”
”Your car?”
”Yeah. The backseat. Must have eeled in when I left the club. Anyway, I was being my usual paranoid self, checking for any car that might be following and ... thinking of other things, I admit, when that wildcat of yours comes clawing over the leather seat back into the front pa.s.senger seat, yowling and generally ripping cowhide.”
”Ooh, your car,” Temple sympathized as only the ownerof a new vehicle with a costly leather interior could. Of course hers had just a little leather because it was just a little car. Call it a Baby Bear car. ”Louie knows not to scratch the furniture. I can't imagine what got into him.”
”It didn't take imagination. It took glancing into my rearview mirror, which I'd ignored after a few cursory checks because I was busy thinking about something else. There was a motorcycle on my tail.”
”A motorcycle? Wow. A motorcycle? It was Kitty?”
”Apparently. It was dark, the street was She was riding a black Kawasaki Ninja and she wore black leather and a helmet.”
”Then it didn't have to be her.”
”No, but it made a lot of sense that it was her. I think she made me at Neon Nightmare. I've been going there, hanging out.”
”Why? It's a hot new club, but-”
”It's where the Synth meets.”
”You're sure.”
”Sure? I've joined them. They welcomed a pa.s.se magician like myself into the fold. They a.s.sume I'm not working because I can't, that I despise the likes of the Cloaked Conjuror, who gives away trade secrets. That I'm bitter and washed up by the newest trends in mega-magic, i.e., raise the t.i.tanic on national TV and then make it disappear again, all in an hour minus forty minutes of ads. They may be right.”
”So now you're mourning your career as well as the death of an enemy.”
He quirked her a smile. ”I'm mourning change, Temple, the first sign of dawning middle age.”
”What is Matt mourning?”
”A good question. A lot more than I am. His duel with Kathleen was fresh; mine is decades old. He followed Molina's sage but cynical advice right into a death trap . he'd almost feel better if it had been his death rather than Va.s.sar's. I brought that over to cheer him up, but even the whiskey of kings couldn't lift his depression.”
”So you dove right in with him.”
”Momentarily.” Max's smile grew as slender as he was. ”There is some good news. Think about how Kathleen died.”
”In a motorcycle accident?”
”Doesn't that answer some dangling questions?”
”She had an Easy Rider hang-up? Wait! Way back when . . . when you got back from California looking up Rafi Nadir for Molina, someone on a motorcycle took a shot at you while you were driving in that convertible you had then. It was her?”