Sibs. Part 38

Kara saw no use in withholding Jill's location. He could find her easily enough without her help.

The bedroom at the end of the hall "Thank you."

Kara had to admit that Gabor was very good with Jill. He woke her gently and explained that they'd be staying in the city for a while but in a different place, a big new house with a giant TV screen and the loudest stereo in the world. Jill was excited, all trusting smiles. Kara wanted to cry out to her, wanted to gather Jill in her arms and hug her tight against her. But she could do nothing. Jill hopped out of bed and into her robe and ran down the hall for her waffles.

"You never told me what a darling little thing she is!"

Kara didn't want him to touch her or even talk about her, but she felt that telling him so would only give him more power over her. And he had more than enough already.

Yes. I raised her myself.

"So you told me. You've done a splendid job."

Kara wanted to tell him where he could shove his compliment, then realized that the orifice would be hers.

Thank you.

The next hour went quickly, with Gabor doing a credible imitation of her, making up plausible explanations to Ellen as to why she and Jill were moving out. Soon they were ready to go. Jill had eaten her waffles, the cook was tearfully kissing her good bye, and their few belongings were packed up.

Then Rob showed up.

"What's he he doing here?" doing here?"

She could sense the agitation behind the words.

I don't know. We were supposed to get together last night, but you called me in sick, remember? Maybe he just wants to see how I'm doing.

Rob drew her aside into the living room.

"Kara, what's going on?"

"I'm moving. Is that any concern of yours?"

"h.e.l.l, yes it is! I don't want my daughter living in that man's house!"

"His daughter daughter? What is he talking about?"

Rob is Jill's father.

"You told me her father was dead!"

I lied.

"b.i.t.c.h!"

But I lied to Rob, too. He only found out yesterday. What's the matter Gabor? Do lies bother you? You lied to me about my my father. He was a good and decent man and you made me suspect him of the worst foulness father. He was a good and decent man and you made me suspect him of the worst foulness!

"Never mind that! What do I tell him!"

You figure it out.

"Don't do this! You'll pay!"

The 'punishment?' I'll risk it.

She dreaded the thought of another instant of total sensory deprivation, but it would be worth it to see Gabor squirm.

"I'll hurt her!"

What?

"Your daughter. I'll hurt her. A child can have nasty accidents, trip and fall against sharp things. I'll do it if you don't cooperate."

Fear for Jill was a knife with nowhere to strike.

You beast! You subhuman-/ "She'll suffer!"

Kara capitulated. Again. That was all she seemed to be doing lately. Was that going to be the story of her life from now on?

All right! Tell him he didn't want me to take her back to Pennsylvania and so I'm acquiescing.

She listened as her voice told him that. But Rob didn't seem satisfied. He kept staring at her as if looking for a flaw.

"Kara," he said. "You remember the night we met at CBGB's?"

"What's that mean?"

It's a trick question. We met at McSorley's.

"He's suspicious then?"

Obviously.

"Why?"

I don't know!

"No," she heard her voice say. "We met in McSorley's. How could you forget?"

"Oh, right," Rob said with a grin that looked somewhat relieved. "McSorley's. Same neighborhood. I get mixed up sometimes. Say, do you remember...?"

You listen to Kara and you parrot the proper replies to this detective, and in the back of your mind you realize that there is real trouble here.

You had planned to be rid of the detective by giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to see him, never returning his calls. Sooner or later he would give up. Or so you thought.

Now you know that will never happen. There is more than mere romance involved here. This is a living bond of flesh and blood named Jill. You know that no matter how you spurn him the detective will keep returning- not to see Kara but to see his daughter.

The detective must be disposed of.

But how?

You must think on this. Carefully.

And most certainly, you cannot let Kara know until the last moment.

10:22 A.M.

Rob picked up his phone on the third ring.

"Harris."

"Ah, Detective," said a familiar voice. "Professor Jensen here. Those handwriting samples you left me this morning?"

The scribbled notes he'd found in the padded cell.

"Yes? Did you-?"

"Definitely the same as the writing on the back of the Con Ed bill."

"You're sure?"

"No question about it."

"Great! Thanks a lot."

Yeah. Thanks a whole whole lot. That meant whoever had been locked in that room had sent Kara the warning. But lot. That meant whoever had been locked in that room had sent Kara the warning. But who who?

This was getting crazier and crazier. He needed something to point away away from the craziness, not from the craziness, not to to it. it.

Rob sat at his puke green desk and brooded, shutting out the sounds of the detective squad room. He glanced up and saw Manetti typing away at his desk.

"Augie! We got anybody Hungarian here?"

"Sure," Manetti said without looking up. "Varadi."

"Varadi? I thought he was Italian."

Now Manetti looked up. His expression registered his disdain.

"Italian? What, you kiddin'? Mike's got red f.u.c.king hair! And freckles! How many paisans paisans you seen with red f.u.c.king hair and freckles?" you seen with red f.u.c.king hair and freckles?"

"Sorry."

He went to find Varadi.

Kara had given all the right answers this morning, except as to why she was moving into Gates' Chelsea house. She hadn't even wanted to visit it yesterday, and now she was moving in with Jill.

Something was very wrong.

Rob found Varadi by the water cooler.

"Mike. You speak Hungarian?"

Varadi's expression was guarded. It didn't go with his boyish face and freckles.

"Yeah. A little."

Rob kept thinking of the phrase Gates had used over and over just before the gun went off.

"What's el merit el merit mean?" mean?"

"El merit? Means 'He's gone.' Why?"

"How about kissinim kissinim or or kissinum kissinum?"

It had been Gates' last word as he fell dead.

"That's 'thank you.' What's up? Going to a Hungarian restaurant? I can recommend-"

"Thanks, Mike."

Rob hurried back to his desk. He's gone He's gone! and Thank you Thank you! Jesus H. Christ! Why would Gates say stuff like that? If Rob were a mental case, he'd probably say that could mean only one thing: Lazlo Gati had killed himself to escape the control of his brother Gabor.

But Rob wasn't a mental case. He was a New York City cop. And if he wanted to stay a New York City cop, he would keep these thoughts to himself.

Only one thing to do at this juncture: Stick like glue to Kara and Jill. He'd move in with them if he had to. Anything to stay close. Something was going on. He didn't know what-or if he did, he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud-but he was going to find out for sure.

The phone rang again. It was Kara.

"Rob, do you have any free time tomorrow?"

"I'm off. One of my floating days off."

"Would you mind stopping by the Chelsea house and helping me with a few things? I want to make some changes."

"Sure! Be glad to! See you around nine?"

He hung up. How about that? She wanted 'to make some changes.' Wasn't that just like a woman in a new house? Maybe all his fears were groundless.

Whatever. He'd be on West Twenty-first Street bright and early tomorrow morning.

9:35 P.M.