Doppelgangster Part 39

Her outfit was even more austere than usual, just a simple dark dress with a modest V-neck. No scarf or jewelry, and her hair was sc.r.a.ped back severely from her face. Her settled expression of resigned unhappiness made her look mysterious and vaguely tragic, rather than sour and embittered even though, in reality, I believed it had turned her into a devious and demented killer.

The rest of the women here were well-dressed, well-coiffed, wearing makeup, and gaily accessorized . . . and yet it was Elena's stark, still beauty that attracted the eye in this chatting, giggling, fluttering throng. The good light in this meeting room made her true age-early to mid-fifties, I a.s.sumed-more readily apparent to me than it had been the first time I met her. The naked skin of her throat and the creased corners of her eyes revealed her years today. But she still wore time very well.

I checked my watch. Lucky and Max should be in her apartment right now. I counted on Max to convince Lucky that the evidence they found there was d.a.m.ning and the widow must be stopped.

"Esther?"

"Huh!" I jumped.

"Did I startle you?" Father Gabriel asked. "I'm sorry."

"Oh! Uh, no." I pulled myself together and met the priest's luminous brown gaze. "I was lost in thought, that's all. How are you, Father?"

"I'm delighted to welcome you to St. Monica's once again." He smiled warmly as he shook my hand.

I had showered and tidied up at Max's before coming to the church, but I was still wearing my black knit dress from yesterday, and it was the worse for wear by now. I saw the priest's nostrils quiver slightly as he got a good whiff of Nelli.

"Sorry," I said. "I was, uh, playing with a friend's dog before I came here."

"I'm more of a cat person." He smiled and added, "It's wonderful to see you taking such an interest in our crumbling old church! Is your interest in this meeting architectural? Or dare I hope that our congregation holds some spiritual attraction for you?"

"I . . ."

I thought my mother's soul would abandon her body in Wisconsin and fly to New York to tear my tongue out of my mouth if I claimed to be thinking about converting. But I was spared the need to pretend a pa.s.sion for architecture. We were interrupted without apology by a middle-aged woman whose hair was a shade of blond that had no equivalent in nature. She grasped Father Gabriel's arm, cooed his name, and dragged him away from me as she flirted outrageously and invited him to Sunday dinner at her house. I wondered whether her husband would be present for the meal.

As I had noticed once before, many of the women here seemed to be dressed for a hot date rather than for church. Their eyes followed the handsome priest with enthralled interest, and a number of them were openly competing for his attention.

How ironic that a man with such s.e.x appeal had chosen a celibate vocation. I was glad that Lopez hadn't done the same, even though his being a cop was, once again, proving to be very inconvenient. As well as dangerous.

As I watched Father Gabriel deflecting subtle and not so subtle advances from these women with courteous skill, I wondered at the level of spiritual commitment that had led him away from the temptations of the opposite s.e.x and the pleasures of marriage to dedicate himself to a solitary life of wors.h.i.+p and devotion.

Realizing I was hungry, I crossed the room to examine the selection of cakes and little sandwiches that had been provided for the attendees. I was perusing the food with interest when my cell phone rang. The caller was Lucky.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, you was supposed to warn us if she left the church," he snapped at me. "What gives? Did she never show up there, or something?"

"Huh?"

"We were only in her place for maybe ten minutes when she walked in on us," Lucky said angrily.

"What?"

"Talk about embarra.s.sing. Max did his best to talk our way out of it, but I won't be surprised if she calls the cops and files a complaint. She was real mad."

I felt my eyes grow wide with horror as I stared at the widow, who stood about fifteen feet away from me. "You . . . you . . . she . . ."

"Anyhow, the job is done. Her apartment is tiny. She ain't makin' any doppelgangsters there unless they're the size of mice. We were practically finished lookin' around anyhow, when Elena walked in on us."

"Lucky," I choked out.

"So you and Max better be satisfied now is all I'm sayin' about it."

I turned toward the corner and covered my mouth so I wouldn't be overheard. "Lucky, she's here."

"Who's where?"

"The widow," I said, keeping my voice lowered. "I'm at St. Monica's. She's here here."

There was a pause. "No, she's not. I just left her in her apartment about thirty seconds ago."

"She's here, I tell you!" I stiffened when I saw someone glance at me. I mustn't attract attention. In particular, I mustn't attract her her attention. attention.

I looked cautiously over my shoulder. I saw her pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I'm looking at her right now." Trying to keep my voice steady, I repeated, "Right now now."

He sucked in a sharp gasp of breath. "Holy s.h.i.+t."

I heard him tell Max, and I heard Max's exclamation of surprise. Then Max took the phone from Lucky and spoke to me.

"You're still at St. Monica's?" he asked.

"Yes. Where are you?"

"Right outside the widow's apartment building."

"You just just saw her?" I asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. "Just now?" saw her?" I asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. "Just now?"

"Only moments ago."

"Holy s.h.i.+t," I said.

An older lady standing nearby flinched at my language, then moved quickly away from me.

"You're looking at her right now?" Max asked. "This moment?"

"Yep."

"Have you got your knife with you? The one that Lucky gave you yesterday?"

I realized what he was about to suggest. I turned back to the corner, covered my mouth, and said as quietly as possible, "Max, I can't do that! There are lots of people here."

Unfortunately, Max had left Nelli at home. Since we thought Elena was the killer, it hadn't occurred to us that we might have to identify her doppelgangster today. And Nelli wasn't exactly an inconspicuous companion to take along for the stealthy search of a city apartment.

"Given the widow's reaction to finding us in her home after we had broken in," Max said, "I would rather not return now and pierce her skin, if there's any possible away of avoiding it. I fear that such a confrontation will unavoidably result in an unfortunate interview with the authorities."

"Well, there's probably also going to be an 'unfortunate interview' if I do this in front of thirty witnesses," I argued.

I heard the two men discussing it, then Lucky came back on the phone. "You're an actress. Make it look like an accident."

An accident. Right. I would just accidentally accidentally open a switchblade at a church meeting and cut Elena with it. "Great," I muttered. "Fine. All right. I'll call you back." open a switchblade at a church meeting and cut Elena with it. "Great," I muttered. "Fine. All right. I'll call you back."

"We'll be right here."

I put my phone back in my purse. I felt around for Lucky's little knife and opened it inside the handbag. Keeping the short blade concealed with my hand, I took the knife out of the purse and lowered it to my side. My gaze sought the widow. She was walking in this direction. She stopped about five feet away from me to look at the selection of desserts, evidently wanting a snack to go with her cup of coffee.

If only Lopez could be right. If only this were all a delusion.

I approached the widow and stood alongside her, pretending to peruse the same selection of cakes and cookies.

"h.e.l.lo," I said brightly. "We meet again."

"Yes," she said without enthusiasm. "h.e.l.lo." She didn't lift her gaze from the food.

As she leaned forward and picked up a cannoli, I figured it was now or never.

"Oh, that looks good!" I leaned across her, reaching for a cookie. I pretended to lose my balance, toppled sideways, and grabbed for her, as if reflexively seeking rescue from my fall. I took the widow, her cannoli, and her coffee cup cras.h.i.+ng to the hard floor with enough force to break her cup. Through her shrieks and our tangled limbs, I managed to slash her hand quickly with my knife. I was pulling on her hair at the same time, hoping this would distract her.

"Agh!"

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I cried, rising to my knees. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?

A dozen women descended on us to help us to our feet and inquire after our well-being. And I had evidently given a good performance. Everyone present seemed to a.s.sume I was just very clumsy.

Except for Elena, who snapped, "Are you drunk?"

"I'm so sorry." I concealed Lucky's small knife by pressing it against my midriff with my spread palm. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right."

She looked down at her hand. I looked, too.

There was blood.

I was torn between relief and a desire to blurt out a muddled confession. But I stayed in character. "You cut yourself on your coffee cup!" I exclaimed. "Here, let me see."

"Stay back," Elena said firmly, shying away from me.

"May I have a look?" Father Gabriel stepped through the women crowding around us. Smiling kindly, he took Elena's bleeding hand and examined it. "Oh, my, it is is bleeding, isn't it? Nothing serious," he said rea.s.suringly, "but you should get a bandage and some disinfectant. I believe Mrs. Campanello has some supplies in the office. Shall I come with you?" bleeding, isn't it? Nothing serious," he said rea.s.suringly, "but you should get a bandage and some disinfectant. I believe Mrs. Campanello has some supplies in the office. Shall I come with you?"

"No, thank you, Father. It's just a cut. And I'd like to stop by the ladies room, anyhow." She glared at me. "I feel a bit disheveled now." She turned and left.

The priest asked, "Are you all right, Esther?"

"Just fine."

The women around us were already tidying up the cannoli, coffee, and broken ceramic cup that had scattered across the floor. I picked up my purse. Keeping the knife concealed, I dropped it in there under the pretext of fis.h.i.+ng around for a comb to tidy my hair.

"I think I'd better go," I said to the priest.

"There's no need for that," he a.s.sured me.

"I feel self-conscious now," I said. "She didn't like me very much to begin with."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll come around. You don't need to-"

"And, actually, I banged up my knee when I fell. It's throbbing a bit now."

"Oh, well, in that case, yes. You should go home and rest. Be sure to put some ice on it."

"Yes, I will, Father. I'll see you again, I hope."

"Straight home now," he said with a kind smile. "No walking around on these cement sidewalks and uneven pavements with a sore knee. You'll regret it dearly tomorrow if you don't take care of it today."

"Yes, Father. Good-bye."

As soon as I was outside the church, I called Lucky.

"Well?" he said.

"This one's the real deal. She bled. What do we do now?"

"Max says now we gotta abduct the ringer and bring it back to the bookstore for questioning. So we'll see you back there, kid."

21.

What we really wanted to avoid now, I thought, was another visit from Lopez.

We had Elena Giacalona's shrieking doppelgangster tied to a chair in Max's bas.e.m.e.nt. Her hands were also bound together behind her back. And although we had initially left her legs free, Lucky had agreed to tie her ankles to the legs of the chair after she kicked Max in the groin.

It was not a scene I felt I'd ever be able to explain to Lopez's satisfaction. So I fervently hoped he didn't feel another urge to come to the bookstore tonight.

Abducting a grown woman in the middle of Little Italy in the middle of the day wasn't easy, but Lucky was an expert at this sort of thing. With a couple of quick phone calls, he had arranged for a large trunk, a small truck, and two st.u.r.dy Gambello soldiers to do the heavy lifting. And thus he had gotten Elena's perfect double from her apartment to Max's bas.e.m.e.nt with no fuss, no mess, and no awkward questions asked.

The creature seemed to be dressed for Sunday Ma.s.s. Or possibly a dinner date. With Elena, it was hard to tell. She wore a dark blue knit dress, a silver wrist.w.a.tch, cheap pantyhose, and plain black pumps. Her hair was styled in a simple but flattering twist, and around her neck hung the lovely cross she had inherited from her mother, made of silver, diamonds, and mother-of-pearl.

"Are you out of your minds? minds?" she raged at us. "This is kidnapping! You'll go to prison for this! And you'll you'll rot in h.e.l.l, Lucky!" rot in h.e.l.l, Lucky!"

She was every bit as convincing in her role as the other doppelgangsters we had encountered. But we had no doubt of her true nature. Apart from the blood I had seen oozing from Elena Giacalona's hand at St. Monica's today, Nelli's hostile reaction to this creature, upon meeting it, had confirmed that it was indeed a duplicate.

Nelli was now upstairs, since keeping her separate from the creature was easier on everyone's nerves.