Evie batted her lashes and tried to look forlorn. “Thank you. You’ve been a real doll, sir.”
Sam put his finger to his nose in the secret signal, at which Evie’s eyes fluttered. She swayed on her feet. “Oh, ohhhh…” She swooned as attractively as she could, and the officer caught her. Through slitted eyes, Evie watched Sam steal his keys.
“Oh, thank you, officer. If I could just sit down somewhere until I feel steadier on my feet?”
The officer led them inside to a waiting bench. Evie winked at Sam and he whispered low in her ear, making her neck tingle. “Sister, together, we could be a hell of a team.”
Up front, a commotion broke out among a group of drunks and the officer abandoned Evie and Sam to help out. Evie grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him after her, deep into the building.
“For the record, sister, this isn’t my idea of a swell time,” Sam whispered as he and Evie sneaked through the labyrinthine corridors of the city’s notorious jail.
“How are we going to get past the guards?” Evie said. She could see a policeman sitting on a stool behind a desk, filling out paperwork.
“Leave that to me.”
“Sam,” Evie warned as they got close.
The officer looked up, and it seemed to Evie that he looked right at them. She heard Sam muttering something under his breath, prayerlike. He put up a hand as if to shield them, and the officer looked back down at his paperwork, almost as though he hadn’t seen them. It was very strange, and Evie told herself that he hadn’t really seen them after all.
“That was a stroke of luck,” she said, letting out her breath.
“Just keep walking,” Sam instructed.
They found Jacob Call sitting in a dingy room with only two chairs and a table. He wore the same coveralls and black hat as when they’d last met him. The pendant still hung from his neck. His sleeves were pushed up some, and Evie could see crude tattoos peeking out from beneath the cuffs.
“Hello again,” Evie said. “Do you remember me, Mr. Call?”
Brother Call barely glanced at her. “Yep.”
“I hear you won’t tell the police anything. Why is that?”
“Won’t tell them. Won’t tell you,” he said.
“That’s a shame. I think we’d have just oodles of things to talk about. This, for instance.” Evie placed the Book of the Brethren on the table between them.
Jacob Call’s expression darkened. “Where’d you get that?”
Evie opened the book and turned the pages but didn’t offer him a glimpse. “Fascinating reading. Much better than Moby-Dick. Like this passage, for instance.”
She’d opened to the page for the eleventh offering, the Marriage of the Beast and the Woman Clothed in the Sun. She laid the book on the table and watched as Jacob Call looked on in awe.
“The ritual of the offerings. It’s begun, hasn’t it? The rise of the Beast?”
He leaned forward, placing a hand reverently on the page. “Just like the prophet seen,” he said. “When the fire burns in the sky, the chosen one will make the final offering. The Beast will rise in him, and Armageddon will begin.”
Evie’s skin crawled. She fought to keep her composure. “And the Beast comes into this world through the ritual kill—um, the offerings. Is that correct?”
Jacob Call gave a curt nod. “The world has fallen into sin. The Lord will purify it in blood through the chosen one.”
“And you are that chosen one,” Evie tried.
The man’s lip curled in contempt. “Why should I tell you? You ain’t the law or a believer. You’re just a girl.”
“Just like Ruta Badowski was a girl?” Evie snapped. She did not like Jacob Call one bit. “Tell me, did you really mail her eyes to the police as an offering to the Beast, so that he’d know you’d fulfilled the prophecy?” she bluffed.
“I-I done it. May it please the Lord.” Jacob Call wouldn’t make a very good poker player, Evie thought. In that brief, unguarded moment of surprise, he’d shown his hand—he didn’t know she was lying. He didn’t know the details of the murder.
“What about Tommy Duffy’s hands? What did you do with them?” she pressed.
Jacob Call sat stone-faced. “I’ve said all I’m a-goin’ to. I ain’t saying no more.”
“All right, then. I just want to know one more thing. That’s all, and then I’ll leave you alone. Your pendant—what does it mean?”
Jacob Call continued to sit in silence.
“Let’s blouse, Evie,” Sam said. “I hear somebody coming down the hall.”
“It’s just darling!” Evie said, deliberately goading him. “I simply must have one for myself. Where did you get it?”
“The Lord will not be mocked!” Jacob said, glaring.
“Who said anything about mocking the Lord? I just want to know the name of your jeweler. Or perhaps you’d let me buy yours….” Evie reached out a finger as if to touch the pendant, and Jacob Call pounded his fists on the table, making her jump back.
“It’s for me and me alone! And the Lord said, ‘Anoint thy flesh and prepare ye the walls of your houses. Bind your spirit to the Holy Mark and wear it upon your person always and ye shall be protected both in this life and the hereafter. But take care that the Holy Mark be not destroyed. For then shall ye sever the tie to your spirit!’ ”
“I see,” Evie said, trying not to smile. She’d gotten what she needed, though her heart was racing. “I’ll just try Tiffany’s, then. Thanks all the same.”
“What was that hooey about binding yourself to the Holy Mark?” Sam asked after they’d slipped out of the Tombs and were walking briskly back to the spot where they’d parked Will’s car.
“He seems to believe that you can tie your spirit to that pendant, that it’s some sort of magical object that allows you to live on.”
Sam let out a whistle. He shook his head. “The things people will believe. So, you think he’s our killer?”
Evie shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. The killer didn’t send Ruta Badowski’s eyes parcel post. I made that up, and he went along with it.”
“Maybe he’s only pretending not to know.”
“Maybe,” Evie concurred, but she wasn’t convinced.
A newsie hawked the late edition on the curb. “Extra! Extra! Daily News! Pentacle Killer exclusive! Read all about it!”
Evie tossed the kid some change and gaped at the headline: COPYCAT KILLER! PENTACLE FIEND TAKING GRUESOME PAGE FROM HISTORY? “That fink!” Evie fumed. “I gave him that tip, and he went and used it to make a name for himself!”
“Never trust the press, doll,” Sam said.
Evie flipped to the story and they read it together on the street amid the swirl of pedestrians.
“ ‘In the summer of 1875, the partially decomposed body of an unidentified man was found at the Belmont racetrack. The body bore traces of strange tattoos, including a five-pointed star, and a note was found pinned to his shirt. Most of the ink had been washed away by the elements, but two words were legible: horseman and stars.’ ” Evie gasped. “The Pale Horseman Riding Death Before the Stars. The third offering. He is taking a page from history.”
They hopped into Will’s car and drove quickly back uptown, and while Sam parked, Evie burst into the museum, interrupting Will’s class.
She held up the newspaper. “I found the third offering!” and ran out, leaving Will and his students at a loss.
Will barreled into the library a moment later. “Evie, what the devil do you mean by interrupting my class?”
“Unc, listen to this!” She read to him from T. S. Woodhouse’s article. “Fifty years ago! The third offering happened fifty years ago….”
“Evie,” Will said.
“That’s why the killer started with the fifth offering—because the other four have already taken place, and he’s just finishing up the job!”
“Evie, Evie!” Will interrupted. “Jacob Call confessed.”
“He… what?”
“Just a half hour ago. Terrence phoned me. He confessed to all of it. Said he’s the chosen one, meant to bring about the end.”