Page 100 of Alex Cross Must Die

At the center of the mausoleum, the marble top had been removed from the vacant crypt, and an elegant mahogany casket was suspended by a mechanical arm over the opening.

Helene Grey stood with Poe at the foot of the crypt. Marple stood with Holmes on the opposite side. All in their somber Sunday best. Virginia had not worn a dress since her high school graduation. Marple had loaned her a spare from her closet.

There was no priest or minister in attendance. The partners hadwanted to keep it private. No ceremony had been planned. For a few moments, the group stood in awkward silence.

Finally, Holmes nudged Marple. “You should say something, Margaret.”

Marple looked up to see everybody staring in her direction. She knew Holmes was right. Nobody was closer to this case—to this young woman—than she was. Except maybe Virginia.

Marple clasped her hands over her chest, closed her eyes, and quickly searched her memory. She recalled a prayer from another funeral service, for another young woman who had died too soon. She thought at the time how beautiful the prayer was. And now it came back to her, word for word. She cleared her throat and spoke it.

“Come in haste to assist her, you saints of God. Come in haste to meet her, you angels of the Lord. Enfold in your arms this soul, and take your burden heavenwards to the sight of the Most High.”

In the silence that followed, Marple looked across at Poe. She could see tears brimming in his eyes. She knew he remembered the prayer too. Then she saw Grey reach down and wrap her hand around his.

As Holmes pressed the lever to lower the coffin into the marble vault, Virginia stepped forward and placed a bouquet of green blossoms on top. She spoke softly but clearly.

“Rest in peace, Mary McShane.”

CHAPTER 116

“ARE YOUSURE?” asked Holmes. “I can take a town car.” He was standing next to Poe on the outskirts of the cemetery. Poe handed him the keys to the Trans Am.

“Nonsense,” said Poe. “Take it. Just watch out for speed traps.” He tapped the hood of the Pontiac. “This thing is a trooper magnet.”

Marple stepped up. “How long?” she asked.

“As long as it takes,” said Holmes.

“Can we send up the bat signal if we need you?” asked Grey.

“You can try,” said Holmes. “But I won’t respond. Hanging up the suit for a while.”

Virginia stepped forward and wrapped Holmes up in a hug. “I’ll miss you, Mr. Holmes. You’ve taught me a lot.”

“You’ve taught me a few things too,” said Holmes. “And it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all.”

Virginia leaned back with a smile of recognition. “The Sign of the Four.Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 1890.”

“Well done,” said Holmes.

“I’ve been studying,” said Virginia.

“I can see that,” said Holmes. “I may just have to will you my portion of the library.”

With that, he slipped behind the wheel of the car, turned the ignition, and drove away.

Five hours later, Holmes rounded the corner on a tree-lined road and turned into a gravel driveway. He was on the east side of Cayuga Lake, five miles north of Ithaca, at the entrance to an isolated estate. There was no sign, just two fieldstone pillars with a heavy metal gate between them. The gate opened as he approached.

He drove up the long, curving lane to a large brick building with Norman-style turrets. He pulled the Pontiac around the circle at the top of the driveway and parked near the main entrance. Then he pulled a leather bag from the back seat and walked inside. The entryway was just as he remembered it, natural stone and heavy oak. It looked like a millionaire’s hunting lodge.

The scents were the same too. A mixture of aged wood and tea tree oil. The receptionist behind the desk looked up. “Can I help you? Visitor or physician?”

“Neither,” said Holmes. “I’m checking myself in.”

The woman clicked her keypad and checked her computer screen.

“Don’t bother,” said Holmes. “I’m not on your list. I came on my own.”

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