The Darkness Part 34

"Is there a chance..."

"Not in a million years," I said. "I know Curt. And more than that, I know people. I know how they act. I've talked to Curt about this a dozen times since my brother was killed. I would have known if he was involved. I would have seen it in his eyes, I would have heard it in his voice. He couldn't have known."

"He couldn't be involved," Jack said, "or you don't want him to be involved?"

"Both," I said without hesitation.

"Until we know for sure," Jack said, "you don't say a word to Curt Sheffield or anyone else."

"You either," I said. Not that I needed to tell Jack. I trusted him, but I wanted to level the field, let him know that my contacts were trustworthy ones.

"Even Amanda," Jack said. "You don't know who has access to her, and information you give her."

"Jack, come on..."

"It's us or nothing now, Henry," he said. "I don't trust anyone in this city and I won't until we know what the h.e.l.l is going on."

I heard my cell phone beep. I took it out, saw I had a text message. It was from Curt Sheffield.

Four people dead in midtown hi-rise. Looks like a triple murder-suicide. Bags of the Darkness found all over the place. One of the victims was Lil' Leroy.

I snapped the phone shut. "This is not good," I said.

"What happened?"

"According to Curt, they found four bodies, one of whom was LeRoy Culvert, also known as the rapper Lil' Leroy."

296.

"d.a.m.n," Jack said. "He's famous enough that even I've heard of him."

"He was found with three other bodies, and they're all dead, drawn and quartered. I mean the place looks like a b.l.o.o.d.y Rorschach test. And apparently the cops found drugs at the scene. Darkness."

Jack lowered his head.

"There's something else..." I said. "Somebody wrote 'Fury' on one of the walls. In blood."

"Just like Butch Willingham. This is how the bloodshed begins. This is how it starts. Things will only get worse."

"This will be all over the papers tomorrow," I said.

"Front-page stuff, probably, and it will go national. The Fury only killed dealers. And once people know what kind of drugs Culvert was killed over..."

"People all over the country will want it."

"Guy had to be worth millions," I said. "Always saw him drinking expensive champagne and hanging out on yachts. Guy like that only indulges in the good stuff.

Killing him creates instant demand. This is the best marketing money could buy."

"I've never seen anything like this," Jack said. "Even crack...it took a while to seep in. This drug sounds like it's already swimming in the city's bloodstream, polluting it from the inside out."

"And people are literally dying to get their own taste," I said. Then I went into my wallet and pulled out a piece of paper.

Jack's eyes widened. "You didn't give that to the cops?" he said.

I opened the money order made out to Morgan Isaacs, looked at it.

"Like you said, I don't trust anybody either now. This 297.

is our only lead. And even though I trust Curt, I don't trust the whole department. We lose this, it might never be seen again."

"Henry, this is dangerous," Jack said. "You could get in trouble for that."

"I don't care," I said. "This isn't about a story anymore.

It's about stopping whatever the h.e.l.l is happening to this city."

"Leonard Reeves," Jack said. "Who the h.e.l.l is he?"

"Let's find out. His name is on this order. He has to live and work in the city. And I'll bet he has some connection to 718 Enterprises. And maybe to my brother."

"So, what, you think we can just dial four-one-one and the operator will connect us?" Jack said.

"No, but guy like this has to be connected. He has to have access to a large amount of money, or at least people who can get it. I want to use my LexisNexis account, see what we can find."

"Great, let's go to the office."

"No way," I said. "Like you said, trust no one. We're doing this from my apartment."

"Your apartment? Won't your lady friend mind?"

"Her name is Amanda," I said, slightly annoyed.

"You've met her. You know that."

Jack nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. You guys doing well?"

"Just fine," I said.

"Glad to hear it."

I laughed. "Come on, Jack. We both know it wasn't too long ago you told me to dump her in so many words. And I stupidly listened to you, and it almost ruined my life to do it. I trust your relations.h.i.+p advice as much as I trust your recommendations on aftershave."

298.

"You do what you want," Jack said. "I'm in no position to judge anyone. I do seem to remember you standing over me in a puddle of my own puke."

"Glad you remember that," I said. "Not exactly either of our finer moments."

"Not something I'll want brought up in my eulogy.

Come on, let's see what we can find out."

"You'll behave yourself?" I said.

"What do you think I am?" Jack said, finis.h.i.+ng the last of his coffee and dropping a few singles on the table. He wiped at his s.h.i.+rt where a few drops of black liquid had stained it. "Uncouth?"

42.

I turned the key in the lock. Amanda was staying at my place tonight. Odds were she was asleep and I didn't want to wake her.

But when I turned the k.n.o.b and opened the door, Amanda was sitting on the couch, a beer in her hand, staring at the door like she'd been patiently waiting for a toaster to go off.

The room smelled like flowers, and I could tell she'd been burning one of her scented candles. A copy of a Nora Roberts book lay dog-eared on the table, and a spoon covered in chocolate lay next to it.

She wasn't one of those girls who did that kind of thing often. She didn't eat ice cream when she was depressed, didn't have a weakness for chick flicks or romance novels. At least not for the same reasons as most people.

Amanda only did those things when she was nervous, when taking her mind far away from the real world. When reality was too frightening a place to be in.

When she saw me, Amanda slowly stood up, came over and threw her arms around me. I felt a cold splash of beer drip down my back, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and hugged her back.

300.

"I'm going to have to install a GPS device on you," she said. I laughed. Then she pulled her head from the crook of my neck and kissed me hard. I pressed my lips against her, held her tight.

I felt her hand travel down my lower back until she was cupping my b.u.t.t. It felt great, and for a moment I totally forgot that I hadn't come home alone.

Then Amanda saw him and shrieked.

"Mr. O'Donnell?" Amanda said, her arms still around me, but her hand jerking away like she'd touched a hot stove.

"Sorry to intrude, Ms. Davies," he said. "Your boyfriend and I have been through a lot today, and we unfortunately have to take up a little more of your time."

"Henry?" she said. "What's going on?"

"We found something at the scene," I said. "A doc.u.ment that we hope will connect the guy who killed Hollinsworth to 718 Enterprises. We just need to find out who he is."

"And then what?" she said. "You're going to call the cops?"

I looked at Jack. He shrugged, as if to say this is all yours.

I turned back to Amanda. Her arms had slipped from my shoulders. I took her hand, held it, but she was reluctant to hold on.

"Not yet," I said.

"Why not?"

"Somebody knew we were meeting Hollinsworth. I don't know how they found out, but until we know who did it we're going to play this pretty close to the vest."

She nodded, understanding it though it was clear she wasn't happy about it.

Then she looked at Jack, said, "How are you? Feeling better?"

301.

Jack smiled. "I am. Thank you for asking."

"So get on with it," Amanda said. "If you don't mind, I stopped reading in the middle of a really good s.e.x scene.

Have you ever heard the term 'purple-headed warrior'?"

"Uh, no," I said, "but whatever floats your boat."

"I think the warrior in this book does float," she said, "at least according to the narrator. His 'mast' sounds big enough to sail down the Amazon. Anyway, good luck, guys."

Amanda went back to the sofa, lay down, kicked her feet up and dove back into the book.

"She's a pistol," Jack said.

"Sure is. Here, we can sit at the table."

Jack took a seat at our meager dining room table as I hooked up my laptop. Once I powered it on, I accessed LexisNexis and did a search for Leonard Reeves.

Half a dozen hits came up. I opened the first one.

It was from The Daily Princetonian, The Daily Princetonian, the student newspaper at Princeton University. We searched through the the student newspaper at Princeton University. We searched through the highlighted article and finally came across the name Leonard Reeves. The pa.s.sage read: The Princeton economics department, spearheaded by Professor Sheila DeWitt, has seen its fair number of notable professionals in the fields of finance and economics.

The article was accompanied by a photo of a middleaged black woman who must have been Professor DeWitt.

She was standing at the front of a small cla.s.sroom. Two students were visible in the front row. One was a girl, early twenties, with a ponytail and wearing a skirt and blouse.

The man was dressed in slacks and a b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, his hair short, and he wore gla.s.ses. The caption read: 302.

Rachel Vine '93 and Leonard Reeves '94 are capti- vated by the renowned professor.

"Is that him?" Jack said.

"I don't know. Let's see the next article."

I pulled up the next search result. It was from Crain's Crain's business daily. The article was from 1998, and the headline was: Economic Boom Sees Rise in Dot Com Investors.

We found Leonard Reeves's name halfway through the piece. It read: Flush with cash, many young men and women who have prospered during unparalleled growth are putting their money into what many consider to be risky investments--namely Web sites and Internet domains. Leonard Reeves, a graduate of the Princeton economics department and executive at Morgan Stanley, admits to finding thrill in such a venture.