Chapter 51

Bruno found it difficult to concentrate. He couldn’t believe Alison was a suspect. The Chief said he was simply doing it by the book.

“No way,” Bruno protested. “We’ve known for a long time that the meeting house was not the murder scene. Now we know how the body got there. It’s an important fact, but it shouldn’t change our assessment of Alison’s role.”

“Not true,” Chief Black retorted. “It adds a critical element of premeditation. We know that Alison had the means to transport a body into the meeting house in secret.”

“What about Icky? It could’ve been Icky. He also knew about the tunnel.”

The Chief frowned. “Coupla things. First, Icky’s life centered around drugs. There’s nothing about Ginnie Doe’s death to indicate it was drug-related.”

“But Icky’s death is related to the others. Do you think Alison started the fire? If she was mad at Icky, there are easier ways to break up.”

The Chief held his ground. “Alison had quite a temper. Gary used to watch her kicking Icky’s butt up and down Old Kings Road sometimes when she caught him cheating.”

“That’s different than blowing up a building …”

“I know. I agree, it doesn’t seem plausible that Alison is directly responsible for Gussie and Icky. But—I’ve said this before—everything starts with Ginnie Doe. It kicked off some kind of chain reaction, and Alison was involved right from the beginning. She knew about the tunnel. Ginnie was also wearing Alison’s old clothes when Mimi found her. Alison had to take the trouble to get them from her parents’ house. Everything we have points to her.”

Bruno was silent. His instincts told him the Chief was wrong. But there was no point arguing. He’d have to find evidence.

“Do you think you can read that Polaroid?”

“Sure.” Bruno shrugged, trying to sound equivocal. “It’s recent. Her eyes are open and she’s looking right at the camera. Shouldn’t be a problem.” He didn’t tell the Chief that certain aspects of the photo were incredibly distracting. How could he ignore a tasty knish like Alison? No question, this was going to be a difficult assignment. “With any luck,” he drawled, “we may even be able to find where she’s hiding out, assuming she’s still alive of course.”

Back home, Bruno felt conflicted. He was using his normal technique, focusing on the subject’s eyes in order to merge with her perceptions. But this time, a mysterious, still, small voice was whispering in ear, “You shouldn’t do this. This is pornography.”

Whose voice was it?

“It’s beneath you,” the voice continued to nag him. “Why are you lying in bed?”

Well, he was tired, for one thing …

“You don’t need this nafka, this whore. The Kabbalah contains the mystic union of male and female. Kabbalah provides everything you need.”

Bruno sat up. He focused intently on her eyes. Soon he could see her. Alison was working on a laptop. Like him, she was sitting up in bed. He tried to pick up details of the apartment, but it was difficult because she was focused on the computer screen. She was in a room. It definitely wasn’t her dorm room at Penn. The bedspread was too floral and there appeared to be a doily on the bureau. Somebody’s guest room? But it could be anywhere.

Now he looked more closely at the computer. She was writing something. It was difficult to make sense of it. There was so much jargon, liberally sprinkled with what appeared to be ancient Greek, based on the two words he recognized, phallus and gynos. Ah, she must doing her homework. Good girl.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Had he lost the connection? No. He sensed that she was still there, but just lying low. Had she sensed his presence? He’d never heard of anyone being able to do that, but there was a first time for everything. No. She didn’t seem to be hiding. He didn’t sense any resistance. Then he realized, she had shut her eyes. The paper must have been boring her too. She was trying to take a nap. Relax. Get inspired. Would he be able to see her dreams? That might be interesting. But wait. Someone was coming. A male form emerging from the shadows. It was Icky. Was he still alive? Had the fire been a set up? It couldn’t be: The dental records showed it was Icky …

Then it struck him. Shmuck-o! This was all a fantasy. She was imagining herself having sex with Icky. Yuck. He was stuck inside her head, feeling everything she felt while that nasty night-of-the-living-chazerai crawled all over her. Was he an evil spirit? A dybbuk? On the one hand, the physical sensations were quite enjoyable; Alison was an experienced hand at giving herself pleasure. But the mental image of this thin, hairy, alabaster-bottomed, pustulent teenager with raging hormones, pawing and salivating, almost made him burst into tears.

Then the phone rang and hauled him back to safety. It was the Chief, impatient to know the results of his distant imaging work. Bruno somehow managed to pull himself together and affect a breezy tone. “I was just about to call you,” he reported. “Alison’s alive and well. And I think she’s still somewhere in the area.”

“What makes you say that?”

Bruno explained he had caught her in the act of doing her homework. The room itself provided no clues as to her location. But they could assume she must have some way of submitting her work.

“So all we have to do is interview her teachers to find out how they’re receiving her assignments … Nice job. Thanks.”

Before they rang off, the Chief asked if he was really planning to meet Peaches for lunch tomorrow. “Nothing good can come of it,” he warned.

“I know that’s what you think. But she’s an intelligent person. I think if I can just get her to consider our perspective …”

“Forget it. That won’t work.”

“You’ve told me that. So I have a backup plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Appeal to her self-interest.”

“Uh-oh. What do you have that Peaches wants?”

“Many things, foremost of which is a scoop.”

“Oh no you don’t,” the Chief hollered. “I forbid you to tell her about the tunnel. This is a critical piece of information that the bad guys don’t know we have in our possession. But we have to figure out how to use it to our advantage. Tell it to Peaches and the game’s over.”

“Maybe I could just sort of dangle it … without actually telling her what it is.”

The Chief groaned audibly. “Don’t even think about it. You’re out of your league in this kind of thing. I’m begging you. Cancel the appointment. Call in sick. Shoot yourself in the foot. Do whatever you have to do. Just don’t meet Peaches for lunch tomorrow.”

“No can do. I’m feeling lucky.”

The Chief groaned again. He sounded like he was passing a kidney stone. “What’s that word you always say? It sounds like ‘King of Prussia?’”

“Kineahora?”

“Yeah. That’s the one. Kineahora. And keep checking in on Alison, every few hours or so. I want to know right away if you find out anything.”