Johnston adjusted the angle of the book, perhaps to see if the alteration in perspective might reveal a previously hidden detail.
‘Errors to copyright pages happen, although no authority has previously noted the existence of one for this edition. It might have been a test printing, but if so, it’s unrecorded. Curious, I’ll give you that.’ For the first time, he was perusing the book with real interest. ‘What were you hoping to find out about it?’
‘Where it came from,’ said Parker. ‘What the bookplate at the front might mean. Why those additional pages were inserted. What they’re made from. Whether they’re really blank. Anything you can tell me. There is a “but,” though.’
‘Go on.’
‘You can’t tell anyone you have it.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘Because it’s breeding corpses.’
‘Ah.’ Johnston poked the book, as though to goad it into showing its teeth. ‘Well, that’s a good reason to be discreet. I might have to take it apart to get a better look at those blanks.’
‘Can you put it back together again after?’
Johnston looked offended, and gestured at their surroundings.
‘Mr Parker, what exactly is it you think I do here?’
It didn’t take long for Mors to get Billy Ocean’s body inside and close the door behind her. She made only a cursory effort to hide his remains, dumping him in the shadows at the end of the hall along with the bags of food. The body wouldn’t be visible until morning, and then only if someone were actively searching for it. She didn’t want Billy’s remains to be discovered before she and Quayle were ready. Mors considered checking the place, but it felt empty, smelled foul, and the stairs up to the second floor already had a hole in them where someone had put a foot through the rotten wood. It wouldn’t be a smart move to incapacitate herself on the same premises to which she had so recently contributed a corpse. She left the same way she came in, and didn’t detect any signs of interest in her vehicle from the surrounding residences as she pulled onto the street and drove away.
Mors paid no attention to the building itself. Had she done so, she might have seen a flash of light from the upstairs window and a figure silhouetted against it.
105
Holly woke Daniel. He made a show of rubbing his eyes, but she wasn’t sure he’d really been asleep.
‘I want you to pack a bag,’ she said. ‘We’re going to stay at a motel for a couple of nights.’
Daniel didn’t ask why, and didn’t protest, but climbed out of bed like an automaton. Holly saw the dark rings under his eyes, and knew they weren’t only from his recent troubled night. It bothered her that she hadn’t noticed them before, so tied up was she with her own concerns.
She took Daniel in her arms and held him close.
‘Honey,’ she said, ‘what’s wrong?’
But whatever answer she might have anticipated was not the one she received.
‘Mom, the fairy tale book is gone.’
106
Parker stood before the burned-out remains of his Mustang. The night air reeked of hot metal and melted plastic, of gas and rubber. A deputy chief from the Scarborough Fire Department had explained to Parker how fortunate he was that they’d reached the car before the wind carried the flames to the house. Even so, the eastern wall of his home was charred black, and a couple of windows had broken in the heat, leading to some water damage from the hoses. A glazier was already at work on the panes. Parker was now giving a statement to a Scarborough PD patrolman, but could only inform him that he had no idea how the fire had begun, as he was midair between Cincinnati and Boston when it occurred. Neither were the security cameras a help, as whoever was responsible had come through the woods without breaking the beams, and stayed out of range of the cameras on the front and back of the house.
‘We’re guessing arson,’ said the patrolman, whose name was Cotter. He didn’t look old enough to drink. ‘Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?’
But Parker was barely listening. He’d really liked the car. If it was a midlife crisis on wheels, nobody could claim he hadn’t earned the right to one.
It was Louis who replied to Cotter’s question.
‘You do know who he is, right?’
Louis and Parker had debated whether it might be wiser under the circumstances for Louis not to accompany him back to the house, before eventually deciding to hell with it.
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Cotter.
‘And what he does for a living?’
‘Yes.’
‘So how many pages of that notebook would you like to fill with grudges?’
Cotter got the message and put the notebook away.
‘If you think of anything solid, give me a call.’
He handed his card to Parker, who thanked him for his time. Cotter then wandered off to shoot the breeze with the deputy chief.
‘Guess maybe I shouldn’t have set fire to Billy Ocean’s truck,’ said Louis.
‘You could probably just have stolen his flags,’ said Parker.
‘But it wouldn’t have had the same impact.’
‘No.’
‘We going to look for him?’
‘Not now. It’s late, and I’m tired.’
Parker’s phone rang. It was Moxie Castin again. He considered ignoring it, but instead handed the phone to Louis.
‘Moxie. You mind seeing what he wants?’
Louis answered the phone.
‘What you want?’ Louis listened. ‘Uh-huh, uh-huh.’ He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘Says you’re to do nothing about this until you speak to him at his office in the morning. Says you don’t want to end up in jail over a car.’
‘Give me the phone.’
Louis handed it over.
‘Moxie, I want the names of Billy’s known acquaintances, and a list of all the properties he manages for his father, available to me by noon tomorrow.’
Louis heard Moxie’s voice coming from the phone. Moxie Castin, he thought, didn’t distinguish between indoor and outdoor voices.
‘Yes,’ said Parker in reply, ‘I realize finding out that kind of information is what I do for a living, but I’m angry, and sore, and I really liked that car. Just make it happen, Moxie.’
He hung up. The remaining fire truck pulled away from the house, followed by Cotter’s Scarborough PD cruiser.
‘You want company?’ Louis asked.
‘You have anything better to do?’
‘Not until we go looking for Billy Ocean.’
‘Then sure,’ said Parker, ‘company would be appreciated.’
Bob Johnston worked his way slowly through the book, carefully checking each page, at first bemused, then increasingly disturbed, by the apparently random arrangements of letters and words. He noticed that the complications appeared more concentrated on the pages closest to the vellum inserts, although they persisted throughout.