“Hi, Alex. Where are you? How are you?” I could hear the smile in her voice, and it sounded inappropriate because of the emotional state I was in.
“Please be careful.” I continued with what I was going to leave her as a message. I told her why I was concerned. Finally, I had to admit the worst: that I was on the street outside her apartment.
“Well, come inside, for God’s sake,” she said. There were no recriminations, not even any surprise in her voice. “I think you’re overreacting. Maybe. Let’s talk about it, though. Let’s talk this thing through.”
“No, let me stay out here for a while. I hope you don’t think I’m being too crazy. Whoever killed Betsey has contacted me ever since her death. The Mastermind could be here in San Francisco. He killed her right after we finished our case. Detective Cooke was murdered after the magicians were killed in New Orleans.”
That gave her pause. “Maybe I think you’re a little crazy, Alex. But I understand why you would be. I see where you’re going with this. I’m also touched that you came here to watch over me. And what happened to your last partner does scare me.”
It helped that I knew where Jam was and that I had actually talked to her. After we spoke, I sat in my car and watched her street. I had learned to follow my instincts over the years, even when my own logic system rejected them, even when everybody else did too. I don’t know how many times I had thought about Betsey Cavalierre’s murder and wondered who the killer was, but I did it again as I sat in the car.
I stayed there for several hours. Jamilla and I talked a couple of times. She urged me to come up to her apartment. I said no. “Let me do it my way, Jam.”
It was getting late, though, and I was beginning to fade. I saw the lights in her apartment go off. Good for her. At least one of us was acting sane.
I continued to wait. Something powerful, dramatic, haunting was nagging at me. Something I almost didn’t want to face. The clues had been there, but I hadn’t wanted to see them for what they were. I’d wanted to follow my “famous instincts.” Look where it had gotten me. I had blown it for so long.
Then I saw him, and everything made sense. Suddenly the puzzle was clear; all the pieces fit. Not just Betsey’s murder, but the Casanova murder, the stalking of Kate McTiernan—the fact that he’d always been able to keep a step ahead of me.
The killer was here on Jamilla’s street.
The Mastermind was here in San Francisco.
I was sure, and it made me dizzy with fear. But it also filled me with incredible disappointment, sadness, confusion. I felt like I might throw up.
It was Kyle Craig. He was watching Jamilla’s place, stalking her like the madman that he was. The goddamn Mastermind had come here to kill her.
Now, how could I stop him?
Chapter 97
“JAMILLA, ARE you awake?” I said in a low, tense voice. I felt a shudder run through me. It couldn’t get any worse than this. I still had my eye on Kyle. He was definitely watching Jamilla’s building. God damn him to hell.
“I am now. No, I was awake. Where are you, Alex? Don’t tell me you’re still outside? Please don’t tell me that. Alex, what the hell is going on?”
“Listen to me. The Mastermind is outside your place. I can see him. I think he’ll try to get inside soon. I want to come up there and I don’t want him to see me. Is there a back way?”
Then I told her who the killer was.
She exploded with anger, most of it directed at Kyle. “I knew there was something seriously wrong with him—but not this wrong. We have to stop that sonofabitch. I don’t care how smart he’s supposed to be.”
She told me where to look for a service entrance and then a fire escape that would take me to her floor. I hurried around in the shadows. I didn’t think that Kyle had seen me. I hoped not. But after all—he was the Mastermind.
He was smart, as clever as anyone I’d ever worked against.
He knew about surveillance, probably a lot more than I did.
He didn’t make mistakes, at least not until now.
I found the back entrance of her building easily, and I hurried up the stairs. I tried not to make noise. I had no way of knowing where Kyle was right now.
When I got to her apartment the door was open. My stomach dropped, and I felt sick. “Jamilla?”
She immediately peeked out through the doorway. “Come inside. I’m fine, Alex. We’ve got him now, not the other way around.”
I hurried inside the apartment, and we kept all the lights off. I could still see most of the living room and kitchen, the doorway to a small terrace. A bay window with bench seating. Her home. The place where he wanted to violate her. I snuck a look outside—I didn’t see Kyle on the street. He was on the move.
Jamilla didn’t look frightened, just perplexed and angry. She had her service revolver out. She was ready for whatever might happen.