“You’re being so nice,” I said to her.
“I am nice, Daddy,” Jannie answered. “You feel good enough for a little company? We’ll just watch you eat—we’ll be good. No trouble. Is it okay?”
“Just what I need right now,” I said.
Jannie came back with little Alex in her arms and Damon trailing behind, giving me the high sign. They climbed up on my bed and, as promised, they were very good, the best medicine around.
“You just eat your breakfast while it’s hot. You’re getting too skinny,” Jannie teased.
“Yeah, you are,” Damon agreed. “You are drawn and gaunt.”
“Very good.” I smiled between small bites of eggs and toast, which I hoped I could keep down. I kept running my hand over little Alex’s head.
“Did somebody poison you, Daddy?” Jannie wanted to know. “What exactly happened?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t know, baby. It’s an infection. You can get it from a human bite.”
Jannie and Damon grimaced. “Nana says its septicemia. They used to call it blood poisoning.” Damon contributed some scholarly research.
“Who am I to argue with Nana?” I said, and left it at that. “I’m no match for Nana Mama right now.” Or maybe ever.
I looked at the puffed-up bandage and gauze covering most of my right shoulder. The skin was a sickly yellow around the bandage. “Something bad got into my blood. I’m okay now, though. I’m coming back.” But I remembered what Irwin Snyder had said: You’re one of us.
Chapter 56
I WAS able to make it downstairs for dinner that night. Nana rewarded my appearance at the table with chicken, gravy, and biscuits, and a homemade apple crisp. I made an effort to eat, and I surprised myself by doing pretty well.
After dinner, I put little Alex to bed. I went back up to my room around eight-thirty, and everybody seemed to understand that I was tired, not myself yet.
I didn’t sleep once I got up to my room, though. Too many bad thoughts about the murders were buzzing in my head. Right or wrong, I felt like we were getting close to something. Maybe I was just fooling myself, though.
I worked for a couple of hours on the computer, and my concentration was fine. I was pretty certain that something had to link up the cities where the murders had taken place. What was it, though? What was everybody missing? I looked at anything and everything. I studied the schedules of airplane carriers that flew into each of the cities, then bus companies, and finally railroads. It was probably just busywork, but you never know, and I had nothing better to do.
I checked out corporations that had main or branch offices in the cities and found there were a lot of matches, but it wasn’t likely to get me anywhere. Federal Express, American Express, the Gap, the Limited, McDonald’s, Sears, and JC Penney were just about everywhere. So what?
I had at least one travel book for each of the cities where murders had taken place, and I pored over them until it was almost midnight. Nothing came of it. My arm was throbbing again. I was starting to get a headache. The rest of the house was quiet.
Next, I checked on traveling sports teams, circuses and carnivals, author tours, rock and roll groups—and then I hit on something in the entertainment area. I had been ready to call it a night, but here was something interesting. I tried not to get excited, but my pulse quickened as I checked the West Coast information first. Then the East Coast. Bingo. Maybe.
I had found the kind of pattern that I was looking for—an entertainment act that worked winters and early spring on the West Coast, and then came east. Their tour cities and the murders were matching up for now. Jesus.
They had been touring for fifteen years.
I was almost certain I’d found some kind of connection to the killers.
Two magicians who called themselves Daniel and Charles.
The same ones Andrew Cotton and Dara Grey had seen the night they were murdered in Las Vegas.
I even knew where they were scheduled to perform next. They were probably already there.
New Orleans.
I called Kyle Craig.
Chapter 57
ELEVEN YEARS of unsolved murders had come down to this.