Page 26 of Deader than Dead

Bellamy sighed. “Anyone who has the money to pay me. You’ve got to understand that most of my jobs are harmless. There’s a kudos to be had in owning certain paintings. Even if they can’t display it, they can boast about it. People will pay ridiculous amounts of money just for the bragging rights.”

“Most of your jobs are harmless?”

Bellamy grimaced. “Believe it or not, I have a moral code. It might not be on a par with most people’s, but it exists. Sometimes I take a job that might be a little less… Well, let’s just say it’s less in a gray area and more in the black.”

“And which category does O’Reilly fall into?” I asked.

Bellamy rubbed a hand over his brow. “That’s the problem. My understanding when I took the job was the first, but that turned out not to be the case. They hired me to break into some old guy’s house. I was told that there was junk in the basement, that it was of nothing more than sentimental value. He was nice the guy I spoke to. Mild-mannered and almost apologetic. I assumed it was his father’s place or something, that their relationship had broken down to where he couldn’t just ask him for it. That was all backed up by it being a relatively straightforward job. Burglar alarm that was easy to deactivate. Locks that were simple to pick. It only took a few minutes to get inside. It was a walk in the park for someone like me.”

I searched deep inside myself for the contempt I should feel for someone casually telling me they’d broken into someone’s house, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t muster any. It was like I’d said to Bellamy, the knowledge that we were meant to be together outweighed everything else. He could probably murder someone and I’d forgive him. It should be scary, but it wasn’t. I was at peace with it.

Bellamy’s lips twisted. “Looking back, I was naïve. I’m pretty sure they’d hired an actor, someone that wouldn’t have all my alarm bells ringing.”

“So you don’t think it was O’Reilly you spoke to?”

He shook his head. “They told me they were O’Reilly, but it doesn’t fit.”

“What happened next?” I asked. “After you’d broken in?”

“The ‘junk’ turned out to be a chest,” Bellamy continued. He held his arms out to about shoulder width. “About this big. I should have just handed it over to them. I wish I’d just handed it over, but curiosity got the better of me. Well, that and the fact it didn’t have a lock on it.”

“You opened it,” I said, less a question and more of a statement.

“I opened it,” Bellamy agreed.

I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. “What was in it?”

“A mask.”

I frowned. “What sort of mask?”

“A very unremarkable wooden mask. It was so unremarkable that it made me suspicious. You see, O’Reilly was paying me a hell of a lot for that mask. Think six figures. And who gets sentimental over a mask? I took it to a friend of mine. Someone who specializes in occult artifacts.”

“And?”

“He freaked out. Didn’t even want it in his shop. Said that it was bad, that in the wrong hands it would give a person great power.”

“What sort of power?”

Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say any more. But it was enough for me to know that I couldn’t give it to someone like O’Reilly. I figured I’d destroy it instead. Tell him that the chest was empty when I found it.”

“Is that what you did?”

Bellamy let out a tremulous sigh. “I tried. The fucker wouldn’t burn. It was wood, and it wouldn’t burn. If that’s not some seriously bad juju, I don’t know what is.”

“So what did you do then?”

“I hid it,” Bellamy said. “The plan was to go back for it later and work out what to do with it. Only O’Reilly’s men grabbed me before I could. Guess where they took me?”

“To the tower block.”

Bellamy nodded. “And that’s where my memories become distinctly fuzzy.”

I pictured the scenario. “You wouldn’t tell them where it was, so they killed you.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bellamy laid his arms on the table, studying the back of them and then turning them over to do the same to the front. “Do you see any signs of a struggle? Any bruises? Any cuts?”

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