The 8th Circle Page 9

  Zach took a step back, and his face twisted into a scowl. “Where the fuck you get that?”

  “I guess that answers my question.” Danny slid the card back into his pocket. “What kind of card is it?”

  “Reporter Man, that’s the kind of card you want to leave home without.” Zach pushed the drink toward him. “Have this instead.”

  “I don’t want a drink. I want to know what that card is. It’s got to be a membership of some kind. Ivy used it to get us in here. Is it just for here, or does it work at other places? You don’t have to take me there.”

  “Anyone can get in here if they got the green, and I couldn’t take you there if I wanted—which I don’t.” Zach rested his elbows on the bar and leaned close. “Listen. There’s special clubs. Then there’s special clubs. The Inferno ain’t like this club here.”

  “Are you saying this is a membership to the Inferno?”

  Zach looked around the room. “Low level, but yeah.”

  Danny’s heart jolted. “The Inferno is real.”

  “It’s real enough, but it ain’t a club—not like this. It’s like management. It operates clubs, and depending on your level of membership, you get access.”

  “Access to what?”

  “Access.” Zach licked his lips as if the memory gave him both pleasure and pain. “To services. The higher your membership, the more access you get.”

  “What kind of services?”

  “Look, sweet ass.” Zach straightened and put his hands on his hips. “You may be the hottest thing walked in tonight, but I’m working, and you ain’t buyin’. Get my drift?”

  Danny thought he got Zach’s drift pretty well. He knew he wasn’t interested in stripping down to frolic with the rest of the patrons. He slid a twenty to Zach. “What do you know about the Inferno?”

  Zach eyed him with disdain. “Twenty? What’s it really worth to you?”

  Danny shrugged as if he didn’t care. “I don’t usually pay sources.”

  “I bet you got a hard-on right now for this.”

  “And I bet you owe at least two months’ rent or you wouldn’t be serving up drinks in a G-string.”

  Zach shrugged and shifted his weight back and forth. “Look, man, I can’t talk about it now. I get off at four. There’s a diner down on Spring Garden. You meet me there at four thirty. Buy me breakfast, and we’ll negotiate proper. Deal?”

  Danny tossed another twenty on the bar. Ivy’s hand caressed his ass. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of you ’til then. Don’t you think he has beautiful eyes, Zach?”

  21

  The clatter of silverware startled him, and Danny jerked up his head. Five thirty. Where the hell was Zach?

  He stared at his notes, which trailed into an indecipherable scrawl down the page. It didn’t matter. If Zach was right, Kevin was wrong. The Inferno wasn’t a sex club. It owned clubs.

  Danny rubbed his eyes. He signaled the waitress and stared at the fat, red plastic elf that sat propped against his menu holder. It leered at him through beady eyes and held up a sign that read, “Happiness Is a Holiday Heart!”

  Danny looked up when the waitress approached with a pot of coffee. Her Santa cap jingled with each step, and he wondered how any human could maintain a holiday facade at this ungodly hour. She gave him a cheerful smile.

  “Y’want anything else, hon? A donut for the road?”

  “No, but thanks. Hey, nice hat.”

  She winked and slapped his bill on the blue Formica table. “Have a great day.”

  *

  Clammy, warm air greeted him when Danny walked out of the diner and up toward the side street where he parked. In three hours, the temperature had risen thirty degrees. Thick fingers of mist curled around the lights and floated in ribbons of gray across the rain-slick street. A few cars and trucks passed up and down Spring Garden. In the murky darkness, their headlights glowed like lidless eyes.

  He glanced around and wondered if Beth ever watched him from wherever she was. Sometimes he thought he could feel her with him in the darkness. A whisper he couldn’t quite discern, her hand almost brushing his. Or maybe the memory of love was strongest, most bittersweet, when love itself was irretrievably lost.

  He reached the Jeep and hit the keyless entry button. Nothing happened. The lights didn’t blink. The car sat, silent and dark. What the fuck was this?

  He took a step closer and saw the doors were unlocked. Maybe it worked after all. Christ, he was more out of it than he thought.

  Danny yanked at the handle and swung open the door. The overhead light snapped on, and he stared down at his seat. It took a second for his brain to process the lump of tissue congealing in a gooey mass before Danny took a step back. The keys slipped from his fingers and clinked onto the road.

  On the driver’s seat, wrapped in a black G-string, sat a human heart.

  22

  “He’s clean,” the first tech said. “Not a trace of blood.”

  Danny looked at his hands and refrained from making a smart remark. He was too exhausted. The CSU folks had recorded the temperature of the heart and bagged it, and the cops had verified his statement with the waitress at the diner. He’d told his story four times.

  “It’s still warm,” the second tech said of the heart. “Bet that scared the shit out of you.”

  Danny gave him a wan smile. He tapped out a text message to Andy and hoped he was lucid enough to read it.

  “Might be arrested for murder. Will be at Center City Division soon. Please help.”

  *

  “Where are you, you little shit?” The monster banged the wall.

  Danny edged back into the winter coats. He knocked against the open boxes of mothballs, and they spilled onto the floor. Conor pulled at Danny’s arm. Fear pinched his white face, but he clutched his blue lightsaber. “Hurry, Daddy.”

  He shoved Conor into the darkness. “Run!”

  Danny tried to push through the coats, but something clamped him by the shoulder and wouldn’t let go. In the flickering blue light, he could see her. The delicacy of the butterflies and dragonflies, the twisting vines and flowers painted on her smooth, pale skull, a hideous contrast with her hollow eye sockets. Jane Doe One touched his face with her mutilated hands.

  Danny tried to move, but she held him tight.

  She started to shake him, and her voice grew harsh and deep.

  “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Goddamn it!”

  Danny jerked backward. His head banged against something with enough force that his jaw snapped together. When he opened his eyes, he lay on the floor of the interrogation room. Kevin loomed over him. Christ, he thought he might puke.

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Kevin said.

  Danny tried to stand, but Kevin put a casual foot on his chest and exerted enough pressure to keep him on his back. He was a bug pinned to the floor by his brother’s size fourteen Florsheims.

  “How about you tell me what the fuck is going on, Danny?”

  “How about you let me up before I sue your ass for police brutality?” Panic made his voice crack. Why couldn’t they stop this crap? Who’s the biggest asshole?

  Kevin smiled and pressed harder. “Assuming you get to a phone.”

  If he moved fast enough, he might be able to knock Kevin off balance, but his hands shook. He couldn’t show weakness though. Danny began to tense, and the pressure on his chest eased. Kevin stepped back. He picked up the chair and pointed to it. “Don’t get any ideas. Sit down.”

  Danny sat.

  “Goddamn it, what in the Good Christ is going on?” Kevin’s bloodshot eyes squinted at him from folds of skin that looked like wet dough. Danny bet he’d gone through at least two six-packs and half a bottle of Johnny Walker Red last night.

  “I found a heart in my car. I believe you know that already.”

  “And you have no clue who it belongs to?”

  “It didn’t come with a name tag.” Danny slouched back and gave Kevin a bland sm
ile as if he were relaxed.

  I found a heart. No big deal, though the G-string made it a little weird.

  “So you just happened to be sitting in a diner in Philadelphia at five thirty in the morning, and you came out and found a fucking heart in your car?”

  “You’re very quick on the uptake.”

  He should’ve told Kevin what he was doing last night, and he would’ve if Kevin hadn’t started off by acting like a prick. Now they stood on opposite sides of the wall. As always.

  “Stop lying to me, Danny.”

  “Is this the part where you beat a confession out of me for a murder I didn’t commit? Do you honestly think I would have called the cops if I came downtown and hacked someone’s heart out of his body?”

  “It’s this Inferno, isn’t it? You won’t let it go. Goddamn it, I wish I’d never opened my mouth. I never should have given you the old man’s shit.”

  Danny looked away. He was in dangerous territory. He was pretty sure he knew who the heart belonged to, but he also knew better than to admit it, especially since no body had turned up.

  “What were you doing in that diner?”

  “Having coffee.”

  “For two hours?” Kevin leaned close. He rested one hand on the table and the other on the back of Danny’s chair. His chin jutted in Danny’s face. It was almost like Kevin wanted him to make a move, so he would have an excuse to beat the crap out of him. Danny could smell the fury oozing out of Kevin’s pores along with the whiskey.

  “What were you doing last night?”

  Danny gave Kevin his best smartass smile. “You got me. I’m a fucking vampire.”

  “You think this is funny? I can hold you here.”

  “For what? Finding a heart?”

  “For suspicion of murder.”

  “Where’s the body, Kevin? The blood? Don’t you think I’d have gotten a little bloody cutting out a heart?”

  Kevin slammed both hands down on the table. It used to scare the hell out of Danny when the old man would do that on the kitchen counter because it had always signaled the start of a whipping with a belt or a fist—or sometimes a nightstick. It depended on the old man’s mood and whatever was handy. Danny sat very still and tried to will his heart to slow.

  Kevin said nothing for five minutes, and Danny watched the hands on the clock crawl forward. Finally, Kevin stepped back. “You look like shit. Did they get you anything to eat?”

  Danny blinked. “I’m okay.”

  “Why didn’t you call me when they brought you in?”

  “I figured they’d get around to it.” Danny didn’t mention that he’d alerted Andy. Kevin would find that out soon enough, and he’d be furious. Andy Cohen was never a favorite of the Philly PD, thanks to his paper’s frequent and pointed criticism of the department.

  “You must have some idea why someone would leave you this kind of calling card. What were you really doing last night?”

  “I was at some bars. I told that to the other detectives. I gave them the names of people I was with.” Danny hoped that the alcoholic haze engulfing most of the women would keep their sense of time fuzzy. He didn’t want to tell Kevin he wrapped up his evening at a sex club with a Goth princess whom he’d last seen stripping down to plunge into a sea of naked bodies. Not yet.

  “Did you run those licenses?”

  Kevin blinked. “Licenses? Jesus Christ.” He pulled out an envelope and slammed it on the table. “Not a lawbreaker among them. So if you hassle any of them, I’ll have you brought in. And don’t give me bullshit about your car.”

  Danny shrugged. “What about the address?”

  “All right. That’s weird. Technically, it belongs to a John Smith, but I can’t find any information about John Smith. Still, the house was bought legally, and the taxes are paid every year. There’s never been a complaint filed about the property, but I’m still checking.”

  Danny heard urgent voices outside. A blond detective entered and motioned to Kevin, who followed him out of the room. He didn’t completely close the door, and Danny heard someone say, “You’ve got to turn him loose. Right now. His big-shot lawyer’s here, and he’s raising all kinds of hell.”

  23

  Danny spotted Andy and then the framed caricature of himself hanging on the wall when he entered the Palm. The restaurant sat inside the Bellevue Hotel and featured good steak and caricatures of noted local celebrities and politicians. It used to give him a rush to see himself on the wall positioned between Andy and the mayor. Now it gave him a queasy sense of his overinflated ego.

  God is watching you, boy.

  He ignored the curious stares and made his way to Andy’s table.

  Andy shook his hand. “You’ll have a drink today.” He looked at the waiter. “Bourbon for my friend, bring the wine list, and I’ll take another.”

  Danny didn’t argue. He could still see that heart, the dark blood oozing into the beige leather upholstery.

  “I’d like to say you look better,” Andy said. “You got a decent haircut at least, but you look like hell. Maybe you should try sleeping at night instead of stealing hearts.”

  Danny forced a smile. “Thanks for getting me out.”

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell Andy. Yet. He took the coward’s way out. “You and Linda all right?”

  “How do you think?” Andy finished his scotch. “I sent her to New York for one of those women’s trips. Shopping. Whatever they do. Well, she deserves it. This week’s been hell enough.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “But you’re going to make my day, aren’t you? I’m going to hype the shit out of you.”

  “Maybe no one cares about a washed-up columnist.”

  “By the time the PR department’s done, they will. We still get your fan mail, you know. Besides, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for you. You know that, don’t you, Daniel? I’ve always thought of you like a son.”

  It was true in as much as Andy looked at anyone as a son. Generally, Andy preferred the guys who tossed back the booze, did endless lines of coke, and chased long-legged blondes in short skirts. Every night was a fiesta in Andyland, and if you didn’t join the conga line, he always wondered about you. But Andy was there for him when it counted.

  “I’ve always been grateful.”

  Andy held up a sheaf of papers. “Good. We’ll sign your contract now.”

  “Don’t I get to read it?”

  Andy held out a pen. “Have I ever fucked you? You need to come back to the living, my friend. Sign the goddamn contract.”

  “But I—”

  “Didn’t I just haul your skinny ass out of jail? At a cost of nine hundred an hour, I might add. I’m getting soft in my old age. Sign it.”

  Danny took the pen. He knew it was a test of loyalty. Everything with Andy was a test of some kind. He also knew Andy was a man whose word still counted for something. He signed the papers and handed them back. “You’re still insane.”

  Andy slid the papers into his breast pocket. “Yeah? Well, only a Goy would sign a contract without having his lawyer check it out. I’ll send you copies.” He kissed Danny’s cheek and grinned. Danny wasn’t sure he liked the grin. “Welcome back. I’ve missed you.”

  The waiter brought their drinks, and Andy scanned the wine list for a second. “You can bring the Dom ’98. We’re celebrating. Right? That was a good year, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it was.” Danny wondered how early Andy had started drinking today. It wasn’t quite noon, and he was already half in the bag.

  “Here.” Andy shoved an envelope into Danny’s hand. “An invite to the holiday party. Didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”

  “I guess not.” Danny stared at the silver envelope. The Cohens’ holiday bash was the stuff of legend, but Michael was barely in the ground.

  “Is this a celebration?”

  Danny shuddered at the familiar voice. When he looked up, he found hi
mself staring into a pair of fathomless black eyes. Beth’s eyes. They always gave him a jolt staring out from Senator Robert Harlan’s face.

  They were in turn warm and filled with charm when he was wooing a constituent or financial backer or bleak and forbidding when confronting an undesirable human specimen. Right now they were somewhere in between.

  Danny forced himself to stand and reach out to grasp his ex-father-in-law’s hand. He did so only because Kate Reid stood at the senator’s side. Her hair was drawn off her face, and she gave him a quick look that was almost a warning.

  “Daniel, this is an unexpected pleasure.” The senator’s voice was warm and rich like maple syrup. No one in politics had a voice like Robert Harlan. “You’ve been hard to find these days.”

  “Have you been looking for me, Senator?”

  The senator gave him a benevolent smile. “I think it’s time we mended some fences.”

  Danny clenched his hands into fists. After the funeral, the senator had accused him of abusing Beth and had contested her will.

  “We went through a terrible time a year ago, and I was hard on you. I can only say it was the grief talking. Beth was my only child. Just as Conor was yours.” The senator’s voice hit a dolorous note. “Grief does terrible things to a person.”

  “Some more than others.” Danny knew he sounded harsh. Petty.

  For a moment, the senator’s eyes grew hard, and then he blinked and the look passed. When he spoke, his voice shook. “We all bear our grief in different ways, Daniel. We both lost a child. Indeed, I lost a daughter and grandson. Isn’t our mutual loss something we can use to forge a new relationship?” He grasped Danny’s hand and pumped it as if television cameras hovered nearby.

  Danny couldn’t answer. He fought for air.

  “Daniel’s coming back to the fold. He just signed a contract.” Andy’s face was inscrutable. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to forge a new relationship if you’re keen to do so.”

  The senator dropped Danny’s hand. “He’s coming back?” His voice chilled a few degrees. “To write what?”