1
“A dead man!”
The raw terror in Shelley’s voice pulled Nicole out of her own fear. “Of course it wasn’t a dead man.”
“You just said it was!” Shelley insisted.
“I was half asleep.” Nicole realized she was still clutching the receiver in a death grip. She forced her fingers loose and replaced the receiver in the cradle. Then she sat up and pulled a shaking Shelley into her arms. “Don’t be scared, honey. It was a crank call. I was barely awake. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“But you looked so scared!”
“My dream scared me. Baby, it was nothing.”
“I heard the mean voice. I want Ray,” Shelley wailed.
In spite of her own shock and fear, Nicole noted that Shelley didn’t ask for her father. Even she seemed to sense Roger was no longer someone to turn to in times of trouble. “Ray is probably asleep. I don’t want to wake him up over a crank call. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“But what if that man has Jesse?”
“What would make you think he has Jesse?”
Shelley pulled away from her. “He didn’t say anything about Jesse?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
A scratching noise came from the area of the door. Both Shelley and Nicole jumped, clutching each other. “It’s him!” Shelley shrieked. “It’s the dead man come to get us!”
Nicole could have kicked herself for uttering “dead man” in front of the child. She’d scared her half to death. “Shel, there was no dead man on the phone. I told you. I was still almost asleep. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
The scratching came again. Shelley let out another shriek. “It’s the werewolf.”
“It is not a werewolf,” Nicole said firmly. “There’s no such thing.”
Again the scratching. The fear suddenly washed from Shelley’s face. “It’s Jesse! He’s found us!”
“No—” The child leaped from the bed, running toward the door. “Shelley, don’t open that door!” Nicole yelled, climbing from the bed.
“But it’s Jesse!”
“No! Jesse couldn’t make that much noise.” Nicole’s feet tangled in the covers dragging on the floor. She almost fell as she watched Shelley pull the chain free, then turn the door handle. “Shelley, no!” she cried desperately.
But it was too late. Shelley yanked on the door. Oh, God, please help me, Nicole prayed as she freed herself from the sheet and floundered forward. She thought she would faint as Shelley swung the door wide, exposing the room to the dangerous night. “God, God, please,” Nicole heard herself whimpering. “My little girl—”
But the desperate prayer was not necessary. Both she and Shelley stood rigid, stunned, as the big black Doberman pranced through the doorway, sat down, and held out a paw to Shelley. “It’s the dog I’ve seen before!” the child cried, taking the paw. “It’s Jordan!”
Nicole couldn’t speak. She simply looked at the dog, dumbfounded. Then she looked at the open door. Who would follow the dog inside? Paul Dominic?
But the doorway was empty. No one seemed to be following the dog, and the dog showed no sign of waiting for someone. It had simply arrived, looking as if it intended to stay.
Nicole ran for the door, shutting it, locking it, and replacing the chain. When she turned, Shelley was on her knees, hugging the dog around the neck. “You came to protect us from the dead man, didn’t you, Jordan?” she asked.
The dog licked her face, then looked up at Nicole with that strange expression of knowledge she’d noticed when she’d seen it earlier. Although her breath still came rapidly and her pulse still pounded in her abdomen, she managed a weak smile. Shelley was right. She knew it in her heart. Danger was near, and the dog had been sent to protect them.
But sent by Paul? How could he know she’d received a terrifying phone call?
2
The next morning, Nicole awakened to find the dog lying between her and Shelley’s beds, her big dark eyes open and alert. Nicole crept from bed and kneeled beside the dog, stroking her head and neck.
“Paul sent you here, didn’t he?” she whispered. “Is he nearby?” The dog looked soulfully into her eyes. “How did he know I was so frightened?”
“Who’s Paul?” Shelley asked.
Both Nicole and Jordan looked at her. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Well, I am. Who’s Paul?”
Nicole sighed, too tired to think up a lie or an evasion. “Paul Dominic. He’s someone I knew a long time ago.”
Shelley slipped from her bed, her little hand seeking the dog. “He was your boyfriend.”
“How did you know?”
“The way you said his name. Also, that night you and Daddy had the fight in the driveway, Daddy said you thought he was likable, not lovable like Paul Dominic.”
“You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
“Well, you and Daddy were yelling.”
“Yes, we were. That was disgraceful.”
Shelley shrugged. “It’s okay. I guess married people just do that. Uncle Bobby yelled like crazy at Aunt Carmen the night I stayed over.”
Nicole raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I would have, but I forgot when you picked me up at school and told me about Jesse being gone and the murdered men. But Bobby was so mean, Mommy. He said he never shoulda married Aunt Carmen and he only did because of the kid. Jill said that was her baby brother that died. I didn’t really understand, but it made Jill cry. Aunt Carmen, too. Then he left. Slammed the door and screeched his tires. Even his daddy was crying. Jill said he got scared when Bobby was so mad. I don’t like Bobby for making everyone cry.”
“Bobby left?”
“Yeah. Aunt Carmen cried for a long time. Then I fell asleep. The next morning after I called you, Aunt Carmen left. I figured out later she came to our house because of the murders. Bobby took Jill and me to school, but he was a huge grouch. He wouldn’t let us listen to the radio, and he didn’t even say bye to Jill and me when he dropped us off at our schools,”
Nicole realized things were tense between Carmen and Bobby, but she didn’t know they were having screaming arguments in the middle of the night.
Shelley crooned over the dog. “Jordan, do you know where Jesse is?” She leaned down and looked into the dog’s eyes. “Mom, she does!”
“Shelley, sweetheart, you don’t know that. Jordan can’t talk.”
“She can talk with her eyes, Mommy, really.” Shelley sat back on her heels. “Jordan, find Jesse.”
The dog immediately stood and walked to the door. “See?” Shelley squealed triumphantly. “I knew it!” She ran to the door and began unhooking the chain.
“Shelley, don’t,” Nicole said uselessly as Shelley flung open the door and daylight flooded the room.
The dog licked Shelley’s hand, then bolted across the balcony and down the steps. “Wait!” Shelley called. “We can’t follow that fast!”
Nicole went to the door in time to see the dog disappear around the side of the building. Shelley looked at her tragically. “Why did she run away?”
“She probably needed the bathroom and her breakfast.”
“And she wanted to see Paul.”
It sounded so strange to hear Shelley casually say the name of a man Nicole both loved and feared, a man of mystery, a man whose intentions she still didn’t know.
“Yes, Paul was probably waiting for her,” she said softly.
Shelley studied her. “Mommy, did you love Paul Dominic?”
“Yes, Shelley, I did.”
“More than Daddy?”
Nicole hesitated. “In a different way.”
“Oh. I think that means more than Daddy, but that’s all right. Was Paul a teacher, too?”
“No, he was a concert pianist.” When Shelley frowned, she amended her vocabulary. “Piano player. He played those big grand pianos and wore a tuxedo. He played in concert halls all over the world and made records. He was very famous.”
“Wow,” Shelley uttered appreciatively. “What happened to him?”
Nicole took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Shelley. I honestly don’t know.”
3
Nicole barely made it to class on time. She immediately quelled questions about the murders, which her students had learned about from television and the newspaper. They seemed disappointed, even pouty about not getting any details, but Nicole didn’t care. Her lecture, however, was disjointed, her manner nervous and stumbling. Half the students didn’t seem to notice—they wouldn’t have noticed if she began talking about Chaucer instead of Melville. But the other half were aware of her unease, particularly Miguel, who took few notes and stared at her intently throughout the class time, making her even more edgy. Was he totally innocent of all the mayhem going on around her, or was he right in the middle of it?
After class she rushed up to her office. She closed the door and called police headquarters, only to be told that Ray DeSoto had not reported to work that day. When she asked the desk sergeant why, he referred her to Ray’s partner, Cy Waters.
Oh, no, Nicole thought. She was certain the man disliked and distrusted her. Her reluctance to talk to him grew when she heard his curt, “Waters, Mrs. Chandler. What is it?”
“I was trying to contact Sergeant DeSoto.”
“Business or personal?”
“Business,” she replied briskly.
“You can tell me.”
“All right. My daughter and I stayed at a motel last night. Some time around one-thirty in the morning I received a crank call.” Silence. She forged ahead. “The voice sounded like Luis Magaro. He called me…” Her voice broke. She took a deep breath. “He called me ‘little bird,’ just like he did the night he raped me. He called my daughter a puta. He said he hadn’t forgotten anything I put him and Zand through. He said, oh God, I can’t remember his exact words, but something about getting me and Shelley.”
She could barely get her breath when she finished. For a moment Cy Waters said nothing. Finally he asked, “You say Luis Magaro called you?”
“No. Magaro is dead. Someone was doing a magnificent imitation of Magaro, someone who knew what Magaro said to me the night of the rape.”
Some of the stiffness left Waters’s voice. “Do you have any idea who did this?”
“None. I can’t imagine who could capture that voice so accurately, much less know his words to me that night.” She paused. “Will Sergeant DeSoto be in later?”
“Mrs. Chandler, last night Ray felt uneasy about you. He sat outside the motel for hours. Then he said he saw something suspicious. He was pretty vague on that point for some reason. Anyway, when he went to investigate, someone bashed him on the head.”
“Good lord!” Nicole exclaimed. “Is he badly hurt?”
“Slight concussion. Drove himself to the hospital when he came to, which was a damn-fool thing to do. Did you hear any commotion in the parking lot?”
“No, I didn’t.” The police are going to think I need a hearing aid, she thought. I never seem to hear anything. Nothing except the scratching of Jordan on the door. But she wasn’t going to mention that. If Jordan was there, Paul probably was, too. Had Paul attacked Ray?
“Is Ray all right?” she asked, forgetting formality and using his first name. “Is he in the hospital?”
“Should be, but he insisted on going home. You could probably reach him there.”
“All right,” Nicole said, suddenly realizing she had no idea where Ray lived. She hoped his phone number was in the telephone directory.
“Mrs. Chandler, give me the name of the motel and the room number.” Pause. “Time of the call again?”
“Approximately one-thirty.”
“Okay. I’m going to check this out. And by the way, we’ve finished with your house. You can return this afternoon.”
“Great,” Nicole said flatly.
“Thought doesn’t thrill you? I don’t blame you. If anything else happens, let me know.”
“I will, Sergeant Waters,” she said, thinking that if something else happened, she’d probably have a nervous breakdown.
4
Cy Waters leaned back in his chair. He knew from Ray that someone bearing a strong resemblance to Paul Dominic was following Nicole Chandler. He also knew Ray believed it was Dominic. He wasn’t so sure. He’d thought for years Dominic was dead. But both Nicole Chandler and Ray were right—they had no definite evidence of his death. Even Aline agreed when he’d discussed the case with her last night.
Now Nicole said she’d received a call from someone imitating Luis Magaro. Cy was relieved there was no doubt in her voice on this point. She didn’t believe it was Magaro, a man they knew to be dead—shot in the temple, hooded, and hanged exactly like Izzy Dooley.
“What the hell is going on here?” Cy muttered to himself, tapping his ballpoint pen against his teeth. Nicole’s father’s suicide, the reappearance of someone who both Ray and Nicole were convinced was Paul Dominic, Nicole’s prowler wearing a wolf mask, the murders of the young patrolman and Izzy Dooley. Izzy’s girlfriend claimed Izzy had been paid to kill someone’s wife. If this were true, it appeared the “wife” was Nicole Chandler, and Roger Chandler was the most obvious suspect. But Cy believed everything that was happening now was tied to what happened fifteen years ago. That’s what he’d told Aline last night. “You weren’t satisfied with that investigation,” she’d reminded him, and he’d told her why.
“One, Dominic was brilliant,” he’d explained. “Not just about music, Aline. Do you know he went to Juilliard when he was fifteen? Now, would a brilliant guy just dump a gun and his bloody shirt in a trash can in his mother’s yard? He could have dropped the gun anywhere and burned the shirt. Instead, he might as well have left that stuff on his mother’s front porch.”
Aline frowned. “You’re right. What’s your second point?”
“Who was the anonymous informant? To my knowledge, no one knows. They had no idea about the credibility of this person. To me the whole thing had the feel of a setup, but Judge Hagan issued a search warrant anyway. I think the guy was getting senile.”
“And your third point?”
“The gun. The serial number had been filed out, but they can usually bring that back with nitric-acid etching.”
“And they didn’t?”
“They said they tried, but the filing was too deep. If it had been drilled, I would have believed them. But filed? I was never convinced they tried hard enough to bring the number back. That serial number could have told us a lot.”
“But what if Dominic just bought the gun from someone on the street?”
“That’s possible. But as far as his defense went, at the very least, bringing back the serial number could have shown it wasn’t registered to anyone in the Dominic family. At the best, it could have been traced to someone connected with Magaro and Zand. Hell, Aline, it was only because of the stuff found at Dominic’s that everyone thought their murders were related to what happened to Nicole Sloan. But those guys were slime. You can bet she wasn’t the only girl they’d raped, maybe even killed, not to mention all the other dirty stuff the guys in the band were into.”
“All of them?”
“Oh, I don’t think the others were as bad as Magaro and Zand, but they weren’t choirboys. Anyway, maybe their murders had nothing to do with Nicole Sloan.”
“But Dominic ran. Why would he do that if he were innocent?” Aline asked.
Cy leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “Because the system doesn’t always work. Sometimes innocent people get convicted. I’m sure Dominic knew that. Now can I have my dinner?”
“On one condition,” Aline said firmly. “You watch out for that girl, Cy.”
“I think Ray’s doing his best to make that his job,” Cy had said dryly. “Besides, she doesn’t even like me.”
“That’s because you played your hard-nosed, crusty cop routine with her. But I’m not kidding. You look out for her.”
“I will,” Cy muttered now, a ringing phone bringing him out of the remembered conversation to the squad room. He leaned forward to pick up the phone. “Don’t you worry, Aline, I will.”
5
Nicole was exhausted after her first class. She felt as if she hadn’t slept for a week, and the weekend seemed like a shimmering oasis she would never reach. She had an hour break between classes, and when she returned to her office, she put on a pot of coffee, mocha-flavored to wash out the taste of the abominable cup she’d had at breakfast. As the delicious smell of gourmet coffee began to fill the office, she downed two aspirin, sat down at her desk, and laid her head on her folded arms. She was almost asleep when the phone rang.
“Boy, I do need that coffee,” she mumbled as she picked up the receiver and said in a thick voice, “Chandler.”
“Good morning, Chandler,” Carmen laughed. “You sound full of vim and vigor.”
“I’m dead on my feet.”
“You didn’t sleep well at the motel?”
“No.” Nicole stood and stretched the phone cord to the table where the coffeepot sat. She poured a full mug. “Someone who sounded like Luis Magaro called last night.”
“Magaro?”
“Yes. He said he hadn’t forgotten what I’d done to him and Zand. He threatened Shelley and me.” She sat back down at the desk. “Carmen, are you still there?”
“Yes.” Carmen paused. “Nicole, you do remember that Magaro is dead, don’t you?” she asked carefully.
Nicole almost choked on her first sip of coffee. “Carmen, of course I know he’s dead.”
“But you think he called you.”
“I didn’t say Magaro called. I said someone who sounded like him called.”
“Have you told the police?”
“Yes. Ray’s partner. Ray’s out today. It seems he decided to watch my room for a while last night. His partner, Sergeant Waters, said Ray saw something suspicious, got out of his car to check it out, and someone hit him on the head. He has a mild concussion.”
“How awful! Did Ray see who did it?”
“I haven’t spoken with him, but I got the impression from Waters he didn’t know.”
“Or Waters isn’t telling.”
“Maybe. At least Shelley and I get to go home tonight. I guess it’s a mixed blessing. I can imagine what the place looks like after the police finished with it. Then there’s all that blood in the hall…”
“Are you afraid to go back there alone?”
“No,” she lied.
“If you change your mind, I’ll spend the evening with you. You just call.”
“I will,” Nicole said, knowing she wouldn’t. All Carmen needed was abuse from Bobby for spending more time with her.
After she hung up, she remembered the things Shelley said Bobby had yelled at Carmen—that he’d only married her because of “the kid.” Bobby and Carmen had married just a month after Zand’s and Magaro’s deaths. Nicole had been unable to attend the modest wedding because she was recovering from the first of her plastic surgeries, but she understood the haste. Within two months, Carmen’s pregnancy became visible. Four months later, Robert Vega, Jr., was born. In less than three months Bobby Junior died of crib death.
Although Nicole had always known Carmen was pregnant when she married, she never knew Bobby resented marrying her. They’d dated for two years. Carmen told her they’d always planned on marriage. But maybe marriage was only on Carmen’s mind. After all, Nicole had heard the rumors of Bobby’s indulgence in drugs and groupies while he was with The Zanti Misfits. At the time of the Vegas’ wedding, though, The Zanti Misfits were nonexistent. The band died with Ritchie Zand.
“You’re not looking up to par today.” Nicole glanced up and saw with a silent groan Avis Simon-Smith standing in her doorway regarding her with her large, dark, baggy eyes. “Being a bachelor girl again getting to you? Too many late nights?”
“Good morning, Avis,” Nicole said evenly. “And I have lost a lot of sleep lately, but unfortunately it hasn’t been because of romance.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Avis said, snapping her fingers as if she’d just remembered. “You had a couple of murders at your place. I must say, Nicole, you do lead an exciting life.”
“That depends on your definition of exciting. Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee?” she asked reluctantly.
Avis raised her head and sniffed loudly. She wore huge, dangling earrings that suddenly reminded Nicole of floppy ears, and she had an abrupt mental picture of Avis as a bloodhound. Next she’ll throw back her head and howl, she thought and promptly burst into badly concealed giggles.
Avis’s head jerked toward her. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Nicole gasped, unable to get a grip on herself as the huge earrings swung an inch above Avis’s shoulders. “Nothing, really.”
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Avis demanded.
“No, honestly, I just thought of something—” At that moment Avis’s large nostrils flared and she stepped forward. Nicole had never noticed how big and wide the woman’s feet were, completely out of proportion with her body. Big paws for running through the woods after ’possums, Nicole thought, and lost the last of her control. She tried with all her will to stop the laughter, but it bubbled forth, loud, uncontainable, causing her to choke and tears to stream from her eyes.
“You are such a bitch!” Avis hissed, then vanished.
Oh, God, oh, no, Nicole thought, full of remorse although she was still laughing uproariously. Was she losing her mind? She didn’t like Avis, but she knew the woman was troubled and suffered from a battered ego. The last thing she needed was to be laughed at, and Nicole would never have intentionally laughed in her face—no matter how outrageous her behavior—if she’d been herself. “But I’m not myself,” she muttered, reaching for a tissue. “I’m exhausted, I’m baffled, and I’m terrified, both for myself and Shelley.”
She wiped away the last of her tears and her laughter stopped as abruptly as it had begun. She would apologize to Avis. She would explain to her the strain she’d been under. Not in detail, of course, but enough so that Avis would understand. “And maybe she’ll forgive me,” she said aloud.
But Avis didn’t seem like the forgiving type. Nicole sighed and rubbed her temples, her head beginning to pound, when the phone rang. She picked it up and said hello. “Is this Professor Nicole Chandler?” a chirpy voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Mindy down at Dr. Linden’s office.”
Nicole frowned. “Who?”
“Mindy. Dr. Linden’s receptionist.”
“I don’t know a Dr. Linden.”
“You don’t? Well, I don’t understand that. Please don’t tell me you don’t know a Jesse Chandler.”
“Jesse?” Nicole repeated blankly.
“About twenty-five pounds, most of which is unruly black hair, slightly crippled, a bark that could shatter your eardrums, under the impression he’s a Rottweiler?”
“You have Jesse?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was brought in yesterday morning, and we were told to call your office and remind you to pick him up today. He had a checkup, a penicillin shot for a bad scratch on his side, and a bath, which he didn’t like one bit. We’re open until seven this evening, Professor Chandler.”
“You say he was brought in?” Nicole asked, dumbfounded. “Who brought him in?”
“Just a minute. I’ll check the record.” Mindy was beginning to sound exasperated with Nicole’s ignorance of the situation. “Here it is. Jesse Chandler. Brought in yesterday morning with a request for checkup, bath, medical attention, and boarding until today, when you were to be called.”
“Mindy, who brought Jesse in?” Nicole persisted.
She heard Mindy’s frustrated sigh. “The dog was brought in by your friend Mr. George Gershwin.”