“Knives? Hypodermics? Vats of chemicals?”
He laughed again. “Let us just say you would regret it forever if you did not meet my visitor. I’ll send my car for you at six.”
“You’re very kind,” I said formally, “but I prefer to drive myself And I will bring a friend with me.”
My heart was pounding when I hung up, and wild surmises flashed through my mind. He had Caroline hostage, or Lotty. I couldn’t check on Caroline, but I did phone Lotty at the clinic. When she came to the phone, surprised at my urgency, I explained where I was going.
“If you don’t hear from me by seven, call the police.” I gave her Bobby’s home and office numbers.
“You’re not going alone, are you?” Lotty asked anxiously.
“No, no, I’m taking a friend.”
“Vic! Not that meddlesome old man! He’ll cause more trouble than he’ll save you.”
I laughed a little. “No, I agree with you totally. I’m taking someone who’s silent and reliable.”
Only after I promised to call her as soon as I got away from the Roanoke would she agree to my going without a police escort. When she’d hung up I turned to Peppy. “Come on, babe. You’re going to the haunts of the rich and powerful.”
The dog expressed herself interested as always in any expedition. She watched, her head cocked, while I checked the Smith & Wesson one last time to make sure a bullet was chambered, then bounded down the stairs ahead of me. We managed to make it outside without a checkup by Mr. Contreras—he must have been in the kitchen making supper.
I looked around cautiously to make sure I wasn’t walking into an ambush, but no one was lying in wait. Peppy jumped into the backseat of the Chevy and we headed south.
The doorman at the Roanoke greeted me with the same avuncular courtesy I’d had on my first visit. Apparently Anton hadn’t told him I was a menace to society. Or the memory of my five-dollar tip outweighed any nasty messages from the twelfth floor.
“The dog is accompanying you, ma’am?”
I smiled. “Mr. Humboldt is expecting her.”
“Very good, ma’am.” He turned us over to Fred at the elevator.
I moved with practiced grace to the little bench at the rear. Peppy sat alertly at my feet, her tongue hanging out, panting a little. She wasn’t used to elevators, but she took the uncertain flooring with the cool poise of a champion. When we’d been decanted she sniffed around the marble floor of Humboldt’s lobby, but came to attention at my side when Anton opened the ornate wooden door.
He looked coldly at Peppy. “We prefer not having dogs up here, as their habits are difficult to predict or control. I’ll ask Marcus to keep her in the lobby until you’re ready to leave.”
I grinned a little savagely. “Uncontrollable habits sound as though they should mesh perfectly with your boss’s style. I’m not coming in without her, so make up your mind how bad Humboldt wants to see me.”
“Very good, madam.” The frost in his voice had moved into the low Kelvin range. “If you will follow me?”
Humboldt was seated in front of his library fire. He was drinking out of a heavily cut glass—whiskey and soda as nearly as I could tell. My stomach twisted as I watched him, my anger returning and jolting my system.
Humboldt looked severely at Anton when Peppy came in at my left heel, but the majordomo said aloofly that I refused to see him without her. Humboldt immediately switched personae, genially asking the dog’s name and trying to make much of her beauty. She’d picked up his antagonism, though, and didn’t respond. I ostentatiously walked around the room with her, inviting her to sniff in corners. I flicked back the heavy brocade curtains, but the view was of the lake—there was no place for a sniper to hide.
I dropped the curtain. “I was kind of expecting a burst of machine-gun fire. Don’t tell me my life is going to settle into monotony.”
Humboldt gave his rich little chuckle. “Nothing affects you, does it, Ms. Warshawski? You really are a most remarkable young woman.”
I sat in the armchair facing Humboldt; Peppy stood in front of me, looking from him to me with concern, her tail down. I patted her head and she went down on her haunches without relaxing.
“Your mystery guest hasn’t arrived yet?”
“My guest will keep.” He chuckled gently to himself. “I thought you and I could have a little chat first. It might not be necessary to produce my visitor. Whiskey?”
I shook my head. “Your rarefied cellars are giving me ideas above my income, I can’t afford to get used to them.”
“But you could, Ms. Warshawski. You could, you know, if you would stop going around with that outsize chip on your shoulder.”
I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs. “Now that is really unworthy of you. I expected a much grander, or at least more subtle, approach.”