Black Widow Page 4

  "You'll do perfectly."

  `

  * * *

  Cascade PD

  Sunday, 11:00 am

  Ellison hung up his jacket and headed straight to Banks' office. "You called, Simon? What's up?"

  "First, how did your dinner go?"

  Ellison sat across from him, sniffing the stale cigar smell that even a non-sentinel could smell easily. "Hard to say, Simon. She appears to be nothing more than a wealthy socialite. Knows all the right things to say. But she makes me nervous, the way she watches Sandburg."

  "You think she's interested in him?"

  "She went to a lot of work to get him to her place. Now he's going there again today, to look at the statue."

  "I thought that's why you went over yesterday."

  "Rothschild worked it out so he just saw it briefly last night. She said she didn't want to mix business with pleasure." Ellison gestured toward the white board. "What's all this?"

  "I pulled a few cold cases out, just to see if there are any tie-ins."

  "To Rothschild?"

  "Exactly."

  Ellison stared at his captain -- and friend, knowing there had to be something more. "What's your interest in her? Is there a personal angle?"

  Banks nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. "There is. I met Emily Rothschild a few years ago. It was at a 50th birthday party of a cousin of Joan's, Owen Frankwell, a prominent physician in Cascade, and Rothschild hosted the event at her estate. Owen had gone to work each day the week following the party, but no one knew what he had done during the evenings. He had hinted to his receptionist that he was seeing someone, but no names were mentioned. Owen's body was found a week later in the swimming pool of his apartment building; he appeared to have drowned from a seizure while swimming alone. He never swam alone; it was a hard and fast rule of his, since there was a family history of seizures."

  "Do you think he was dating Emily Rothschild?"

  "She was questioned at the time, but claimed not to have seen him since the party."

  "And you didn't believe her?"

  "No. But there was nothing I could do about it. There was no evidence to link the murder to Rothschild."

  "How did she know him? Why host his birthday party?"

  "He was her doctor."

  "Did either of them have dates for the party?"

  "No. There were several other single people there. There's never been any indication Rothschild has dated since the death of her last husband."

  Ellison picked up a picture of Joan's cousin, Owen, as Simon was talking. Another picture, with the name below, caught his eyes. "Carlo DePrimo? Rothschild mentioned him last night. Said he designed the dress she was wearing."

  "Bingo." Banks jumped up and moved the file from one pile to another. "There's another tie-in." He went to the white board and added Carlo DePrimo's name to the list filling in the blanks and adding that he was Rothschild's dress designer. "I've got six files now that have some sort of connection to her. But I can't find anything in common with the men. They are all from very different backgrounds. Two vanished without a trace. Two were found murdered, with no clues as to who did it or why. Two, Joan's cousin included, were found dead under suspicious causes."

  "Do you want me to look into this? I've got a couple of cases on the go--"

  "No. Just keep your eyes open. Enjoy your day off. I just wanted to bring you up-to-date on what I was working on with this, in case you see something that might tie-in."

  "I appreciate it, sir."

  Ellison stopped by his desk to check his email and see if some information he had requested had come in yet. One thing led to another, and almost two hours had gone by before he phoned home to see if Sandburg was back from the library. His partner had taken off first thing, wanting to do some research before working on the statue.

  There was no answer. Ellison checked their phone messages and Sandburg's voice came on the answering machine. "Hey, Jim. It's me. It's noon and I'm just heading over to the Rothschild mansion now. A friend of mine will drop me off there on his way north. Whenever you want to come by and get me, I'll be there, okay?"

  Ellison hung up the phone and grimaced. He hadn't planned on going to the Rothschild estate so soon, but he really didn't like the idea of leaving Sandburg there alone. Not with so many questions about their hostess.

  * * * * *

  Rothschild Estate

  Sunday, 2:00 pm

  The detective made the drive up the coastal highway to the Rothschild estate in twenty-five minutes. Timothy met him at the front entrance, solemnly escorting him through the myriad of corridors until he arrived at the back-corner of the mansion where his partner worked.

  As they walked down the hallway, Ellison stared at the paneling on the wall, not sure what he was looking for. There was something about the paneling, though...

  Sandburg was alone in the room, sitting cross-legged in front of the statue, open notebook in his lap, as he sketched the symbols written on the base of the statue. He didn't seem aware that Ellison was there.

  "Jim."

  He'd heard her coming this time, but waited for her to touch his arm before acknowledging her.

  She was more casually dressed today, a cashmere sweater, a string of pearls, and tailored wool pants. "I admire his concentration," she said softly, next to him in the doorway. "He's hardly moved since he sat down."

  "He doesn't have much time these days to indulge in his studies."

  "He should. Make sure he gets that doctorate. I think you have a lot to do with how he spends his time."

  "He has my full support."

  "Good. Now, I think I'll get him a magnifying glass. It will help with the smaller letters." Rothschild excused herself and left.

  Ellison listened to her walk away, then turned and followed her. His intent had been to ask about her security system, but from the end of the northern hallway, he saw her apparently step through the wall. As he approached, it was clear there was no door in that area.

  The memory surfaced. He was ten and bored. Walking down the hallway, bouncing a foam ball along the wall. A panel slid inward suddenly, then closed before he could move. He had spent the next five minutes bouncing the ball all over the panel, trying to see if he could make it open again. Finally, he triggered it, and the panel slid open long enough for him to jump inside.

  He had struck a match in the dark and peered around the dusty room. A few crates, a filing cabinet -- nothing of interest to a young boy hoping for a secret corridor to spy on the others.

  Turning up his hearing now, the adult Ellison followed her passage in the hidden room. He averted his eyes from the catch in the wall, realizing he was probably being watched or filmed by the security system. Instead, he went past it, pretending to check the security. He made two passes down the back corridor, checking the outer doors and windows, while managing to focus his hearing on her activities. The room was a good sized one from what he remembered. From the creaking of a chair and the sound of drawers opening and closing, she seemed to be sitting at a desk, humming, cutting paper with a pair of scissors.

  He circled around the area to get his bearings, then found the room that housed the security system. The butler was letting in a delivery truck at the front gate, and Ellison watched the monitors as the truck cleared the entrance, and the controls activated to shut the ironwork gate after it.

  "Hello, Timothy. Does the system advise you only when a vehicle turns onto the property?"

  The elderly man seemed nervous about being questioned. "Yes, Detective. It sends a signal through my pager, and I come here. Unless, of course, we are expecting someone, and Madam has me monitor the entrance so the guests do not have to wait."

  "Are you the only one who handles the security?"

  "No, sir. There are several of us trained to let vehicles onto the property."

  "What about the problems with the security that Mrs Rothschild mentioned to me? Are you familiar with them?"

  "No, sir." Timo
thy stood abruptly. "I'm unable to help you further, sir. Perhaps I could get you some tea?"

  Ellison started to refuse, then decided a cup of tea would be good about now. He watched Timothy hurry down the corridor, then took the opportunity to check out a map on the wall, blueprints to the house.

  Ellison checked out the hidden area, but the map seemed to ignore about a fifteen foot strip of the house. The sitting room wall was shown to border the north hallway. After Timothy returned with his tea, then left again, Ellison casually went in the room and paced it off, his teacup in hand, then returned via the hallway to the room Sandburg was in. If his calculations were correct, the map wasn't entirely correct. The sitting room was only twenty feet deep, not the thirty-five feet shown on the map.

  He put his teacup down on a serving table outside the artifact viewing room. Sandburg was standing already, talking with Emily, his backpack over one shoulder.

  "Hey, Jim. You just get here?"

  "I've been here awhile. Just looking at the security for Ms Rothschild."

  "Thank you so much, Detective. Your suggestions will be helpful." Rothschild's words were for him, but her smile was directed to Sandburg.

  Ellison moved closer to his partner. "Ready to go, Chief?"

  "Yes." Sandburg turned to Rothschild. "My thanks again. This has been wonderful. I rarely get the time to study one particular statue. Especially a jaguar motif, like this one."

  "I hope your photographs turn out."

  "I took a whole roll of film on it."

  She beamed at the young man, and Ellison felt a growl roll in his throat as she continued, "Blair, I have something else to show you. I was saving it."

  Dear Lord. Now what? Ellison tried to keep his impatience under control. He had figured she would try something else.

  "I've unpacked an artifact I'm sure you'd love to see."

  Sandburg's eyes lit up, on cue. "Really?"

  Ellison rested his hand under his partner's elbow and tugged slightly. "We have to get going, Sandburg. Simon called us in to work this evening. Case happening."

  "Oh." Disappointment was quickly covered with a laugh. "That's life in the fast lane, Ms Rothschild."

  "Do you have time for a quick look at it? I'll be packing the statue tomorrow night."

  Sandburg glanced his way hopefully, and Ellison caved. "I guess we've got a few minutes." He waved them both ahead of him. Don't make me regret this.

  "Thanks, Jim. I'll be quick."

  Ellison trailed them down the hall, listening intently to the excited banter as Emily told his partner how she had 'stumbled' across this piece at one of the black market auctions. She wanted him to look at it as she wasn't sure what era it was from. She led them downstairs into the large viewing room she had shown them the day before, but now there was a new exhibit in the central stage already set up.

  "Oh, my God." Sandburg was shaking he was so excited, swallowing nervously. This statue definitely fell in the Sentinel/jaguar mythology, and completely hooked Sandburg. It was a jaguar/man statue, as if one was morphing into the other. "It's early Inca, I believe. But this is incredible. When are you sending it away?"

  "I'm packing it tomorrow night, and we're shipping them off first thing the next morning."

  "Jim, I've got to spend some time cataloguing this. Please, is there any way I can take some time tomorrow and do this?"

  No. She's planning on killing you, and I can't allow that.

  The words stuck in his throat, of course, and he nodded.

  Sandburg whirled to face her. "Tomorrow, around noon? Is that okay? I won't be able to stay long because we've been working afternoons, but I'd love to have the chance to give this a good look."

  "I'm just so thrilled that you are finding this all helpful, dear. Anything I can do to help a Rainier student."

  "We have to get going, Chief," Ellison said, pointedly. "We have an appointment that we can't be late for."

  They were met at the front door by Timothy, who had their coats ready for them. Ellison noted the butler didn't make eye contact with them, there was a faint bead of perspiration on his upper lip, and his heart rate was a little too rapid.

  Are you in this or not? Ellison wondered, studying the butler as he helped Sandburg into his coat.

  * * * * *

  Blair stowed his bag carefully on the floor between his feet. "So what's the big meeting?" he asked, buckling his seatbelt.

  "I told Simon we'd drop by tonight. There's another Jags game on at seven."

  "A Jags game!!" Blair stared at his partner as though he'd grown a second head. "Are you nuts? I could be studying that incredible statue, and we have to leave because of a basketball game that's not even on for another three hours?"

  "You like basketball." Ellison was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

  "I love basketball, but that's beside the point. Why'd you tell her we had a big meeting?"

  "Because I wanted you out of there."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's not safe."

  Blair snorted. "Yeah, like what's she going to do? Hit me with her purse?"

  "She's not what she seems--"

  Blair cut him off. "Oh, please don't start on the manipulation theory again. I'm there because I want to be there."

  "Then why didn't she show you that last statue yesterday? Or when you arrived today? Why string you along like that?"

  "She wasn't stringing me along. I mentioned to her that I was interested in jaguar motifs, and she remembered a statue she had just unpacked."

  "It was already set up on display."

  "So what, man? Big deal." Blair turned and looked out the side window, as they cleared the entrance to the Rothschild property. "I can't believe you, sometimes."

  "Listen, I followed her today. She spent some time in a hidden room. I couldn't tell what she was doing, but the room doesn't show up on the map of the house."

  "It's an old house. All old houses like this have hidden rooms and corridors."

  They traveled a quarter mile in silence before Jim tried again. "I've been talking with Simon about this--"

  "Great. Drag him into your paranoia."

  "He agrees. She's dangerous. He's been watching her for years."

  "What? Why?"

  "Her name seems to be involved with a lot murders and missing people."

  "It seems to be? Has she ever been charged?"

  "No. Circumstantial evidence."

  "Must have been pretty flimsy then. Maybe she's just unlucky with her friends." He stared at the gray ocean, the incoming tide crashing against the rocks along the coastal highway. "I think she's lonely."

  "Sandburg, you are not going to visit her place alone. There's no way I want you to be another statistic."

  "I'm not a little kid. How the hell are you going to forbid me from seeing a nice elderly lady?"

  "She's not a nice elderly lady. And if you have to visit her tomorrow, I'm going with you. And I'm going with you every time you want to visit her, if it means canceling work, canceling dates, canceling appointments. She's dangerous. How do I get that through your head?"

  Blair bit back his retort. He'd rarely seen Jim so upset about something like this. Granted, it had been a rough few months, and Jim was apt to be on the cautious side. But what if his partner was right? Maybe he was letting himself be blinded by seeing only what he wanted to see -- a nice woman who was interested in anthropology and archaeology as a hobby and had the money to track down artifacts. The weird part was, he didn't remember seeing her name around Rainier before. Why had she just contacted him now, and not years ago? How long had she had these artifacts anyway?

  There seemed to be a lot of questions he didn't have answers for yet. "You're serious, Jim?" he asked, quietly.

  "I'm damned serious. So is Simon."

  Blair nodded finally. "Okay. For now. If I visit her, I see her with you."

  Strangely, he could feel the sentinel's blood pressure drop.

  Jim's cell phone rang. "Ellis
on.... Yeah, Simon, he's with me. Why?.... Where?... Okay, you're right. That's not far from where we are... About a mile... Sure... Bye."

  "What's up?"

  "Brown and Rafe are at the scene of a crime, and Simon wants us to investigate."

  "Any other details?"

  "A body was found washed up on shore at North Cascade Beach."

  "Swell." Blair grimaced, a shiver running up his spine. Bodies washed ashore were gross; there was no other way to put it.

  Three minutes later, Jim pulled into the beach parking lot. "They're at the water line."

  "Tarp?"

  "Already over the body."

  "Let's go then," Sandburg said with forced grin. It was starting to rain, so he pulled his rain slicker out from behind the seat, tossing Jim's to him.

  "Hey, Jim, Hairboy." Henri came across the damp sand to meet them. "What are you doing in the neighborhood?"

  "We were up at the Rothschild estate--" Blair began, then dropped it at Henri's rolled eyes. "What?"

  "What's with that chick? She's got her fingerprints all over everything these days."

  "What's that supposed to mean, H?"

  "Our dead body. ID in the wallet says he's Eugene Merrell."

  "Who's that?"

  Ellison groaned. "A missing person called in two weeks ago. He was Emily Rothschild's lawyer, last seen leaving a party at her home."

  "That doesn't mean anything. He had already left her place," Sandburg whispered as his partner trekked across the sand to the crowd gathered there. "Doesn't mean she killed him or had anything to do with it."

  Ellison stopped, turned around and stared at him, then continued toward the body.

  `

  * * *

  Cascade PD

  Sunday, 6:00 pm

  Simon Banks added Merrell's name to the list. "That's it. Another firm match."

  Ellison glanced to his rather silent partner, sitting in one of the chairs in front of Simon's desk. Sandburg had been noticeably quiet on the way back to the police station, and although they had showed him all the photos and the cases, he had made no comment in response to their discussion thus far.