Page 34 of The Furies

“I’m okay,” said Olivia. “But I haven’t been sleeping so good lately.”

Which was true. When she closed her eyes, she felt Mr. Beige begin to draw near.

“Bad dreams?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You must have a guilty conscience.”

For a moment, Olivia considered sharing her recurring dream with Caitlin. It had been coming to her for the last few nights, although it wasn’t the same each time, but was instead a variation on a theme. She would sit up in bed, aware that someone was in her apartment, and see a shape occupying the chair by the window; or standing by her bookshelves, running a finger along the spines of the novels; or silhouetted in her bathroom door, staring at her from the dark. She could never see the intruder’s face, because it was always in shadow, but she knew who it was, knew him by his trilby hat and his distinctive scent.

Except you didn’t smell stuff in your dreams, but somehow it was always the odor of his cologne that finally woke her, and it would still be there when she opened her eyes, like a ghost in the room, before slowly dissolving away.

“I think I have to go home,” said Olivia, suddenly. “I feel sick.”

“Hon, we’re kind of busy—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” said Olivia, untying her apron. “I have to leave. I have to get out of here before I puke.”

I have to be gone before he comes.

CHAPTER XXXIX

Kepler now had a name for the man who had been in Raum Buker’s room: Parker, a private investigator. Kepler was curious to know who might have hired him, but the only way to establish that would be to confront Parker himself, and everything Kepler had learned about him suggested that this would not be advisable, not yet.

Kepler inspected himself in the mirror. He was applying ointment to the cuts that were now regularly blighting his face and hands, but they refused to heal, and these were not the only visible signs of his deterioration. Small, painful swellings had erupted in his armpits and at the base of his neck, so that he now had to keep the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. They resembled plague buboes, and he had a vision of his fingers and toes beginning to rot. The black joke shared with Reuben Hapgood—it’s not terminal—no longer seemed quite so funny. It was terminal. Kepler was dying, and as he faded Raum Buker grew stronger.

He had hoped that Buker might have been foolish enough to keep in his accommodations at the Braycott some, or all, of what he and Egon Towle had stolen, but the room was entirely free of valuables, possibly because it contained no safe in which to store them. Meanwhile Buker didn’t even bother locking his woebegone Chevy, and would surely have acquired a more secure form of transportation had he intended to use it as a mobile vault. Finally, Kepler had tried and failed to gain access to the house of Ambar Strange, the woman with whom Buker was said to be keeping company, but the fact that he was now living at the Braycott Arms suggested their relationship might have come to an end. If this was so, Buker was unlikely to have entrusted the hoard to her. Ambar also had an older sister, but Kepler had established that Dolors did not enjoy her sibling’s level of intimacy with Buker. Where, then, was he keeping what he had taken?

How much easier it would have been had Kepler been able to confront Buker directly, but Kepler was weak and Buker was strong, while the very nature of the crime he had committed was offering him protection, even if he might not yet be aware of it. The result was that Kepler was being forced to circle, hoping that his reputation, and his presence in Portland, would be sufficient motivation for Buker to reach a settlement with him. But Buker had not responded to Kepler’s overtures: You can keep most of what you took. I want only this. It is important to me. Emails sent to Buker’s address went unanswered, and his most recent cell phone number was no longer in service. Soon, Kepler would have to make his move. Admittedly, the private investigator was an unwelcome complication, but all Kepler had to do was evade him.

Kepler felt the sands of his days slipping through his fingers. He stared at his reflection again and saw it change to the image of another man, also dying, this time by Kepler’s hand. The man was laughing, laughing even as Kepler tore away strips of his skin.

He’ll destroy it if you get too close to him, said the laughing man. He’ll destroy it, and put an end to you.

CHAPTER XL

The morning dawned unseasonably warm for the third day in a row, presaging an early thaw. I called Will Quinn to ask if he’d had a chance to reach out to Dolors Strange. He told me that he’d driven over to see her immediately after our meeting at his home, and they’d spoken for two hours. The upshot was that Dolors admitted to feeling about Will the same way he felt about her, and they’d decided to resume their romance.

“What about Raum?” I said.

“He’s definitely out of her life for good. She says that if her sister wants to keep seeing him, that’s her decision, but she’s advised Ambar against it. Buker and Ambar had an argument, and he hurt her arm. Ambar says it was an accident, but Dolors isn’t so sure.”

“I don’t suppose I need to ask if Ambar reported the incident to the police,” I said.

“I wouldn’t waste my breath. I believe that was Ambar’s view, too.”

I thought that the next Thanksgiving with the Quinn-Strange households would be quite the occasion, and I’d need to have my excuses prepared well in advance in order to miss it.

“Did you tell Dolors that I would continue to work for you?”

“I did. Was that a mistake?”

“She’d have found out sooner or later. How did she take the news?”

“She told me I shouldn’t have done it, and that I didn’t need to go wasting any more of my money on a private investigator. She recommended I sever my ties with you immediately. I said I couldn’t do that until I was sure she was safe. I suggested that if she was willing to answer any further questions you might have, it could help set my mind at ease.”

I was pleased to see that Will had some backbone. It must have been all those years spent hauling lumber.

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