Dead Spaces: The Big Uneasy 2.0 (9 page)

“I’ll get someone to run you home.” Big brother took the top spot, mixed with concern. “Been a busy few days.”

She nodded, managed a wan smile, then groaned as Bakers began flooding the scene from multiple directions. Maybe she should have taken the ambulance ride when it was offered.

H
annah wasn’t
sure how Logan Ferris managed to cut her out of the crowd of siblings. She was just grateful he had. He drove her home—his route taking them through a fast food lane. She finished her burger before he pulled out into traffic again. At her place, he settled down, obviously planning to wait while she showered and changed. It was not a comfortable feeling, knowing he was on the other side of the door, but discomfort warred with relief that he didn’t seem inclined to leave.

She’d missed him.

That thought left her feeling vulnerable and, had she not been so whacked, she’d have defaulted to stiffly self-conscious when she finally joined him in the living room that was also her bedroom. There were advantages to being well beyond tired.

“Got enough in you to talk for a minute, or do you want me to tuck you in and go?”

For a couple of seconds she wondered what “tuck you in” meant, then decided it couldn’t mean much. Not when followed by “and go.”

“I got my second wind, though it probably won’t last long.” She hoped he hadn’t noticed her brief hesitation before settling on her couch. Was pleased when he sat next to her, his body angled so he could see her. Wished he’d tucked in a bit closer. His shoulder looked very inviting.

“So, what happened?”

She told him about Guido’s sudden appearance at the morgue. He gave her a look when she told him about the lunch invite, but she didn’t have the energy to connect the dots that got her to go with him. “I was hungry, and it’s the end of the month.”

He grinned, but his eyes looked worried. “If you’d blown him off, he’d have found another way.”

“That’s what I thought.” She rested her head on the couch back. “And he only had two guys with him.” Ferris’ brows rose. “I only have trouble when the opposition gets to seven.”

He laughed.

She managed a chuckle. “They used to tell me they were doing it for my good and then they treat me like a puff of air will knock me down. They like it when I leave the thinking to them, too.”

“The shooting?”

She nodded.

“That was a big miss.”

“Could they really be that bad? Looked to me like the kid held the firing line for a few yards. Only moved an inch or so up or down. Then it just stopped.”

“I saw that.” Ferris frowned. “Hard to imagine someone having a clear shot and not taking it.”

“Unless that was the plan? I wondered if someone was trying to kick the anthill? Stir things up? I’ve had a ton of drive-by shootings this week.”

“It’s been a particularly messy few days,” Ferris said slowly. “Be interesting to see the stats on the various shootings.”

“Vics have been from all three organizations,” Hannah said. “At least, based on their body ink. You heard anything about the wise fams ramping things up? With Afoniki about to kick it and the two new guys…”

Ferris shook his head. “What we’ve been hearing is that front line troops are being told to keep it cool. Of course, they would say it wasn’t them, but it’s interesting they don’t seem to be interested in heating it up.”

Hannah settled deeper into the couch, lifting her feet onto the small ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. “If I was going to make a move on another org, don’t think I’d start with the small fry. Like, you know, actually shoot the top guy?”

“It does seem like taking the long way round,” Ferris agreed. “Before I forget, here’s what I’ve been able to dig up on your Uncle Charlie—which is not a lot.” With a wry look, he handed her a folder. “Also on Ellie Calvino and the wise kids.”

Hannah took the folder, curiosity trumping sleepy. She flipped it open. On top was a grainy photo of a face vaguely like Alex’s. Baker genes were dominant in the boys, that was for sure.

“His disappearance never made the news,” Ferris said.

“He was away at college when it happened,” Hannah murmured.

“Found that pic on Facebook. One of his classmates posted it. When I get time, I’m going to check out the high school yearbooks for the years he was in school.”

Zach might have Charlie’s old yearbooks. He’d gotten a lot of stuff from his parents when they passed.

“That’s a good idea,” she murmured, moving on. The news stories on Ellie and Nell’s parents had come from microfiche and were hard to read, but she could probably track down better copies or clean them up on her computer. “Amazing how much Nell looks like Ellie. No wonder it freaked people out. Like a ghost or the dead coming back to life.”

If Bettino Calvino had had Ellie killed, Nell must have given him quite the shock.

“Yeah.” He eased closer, probably to study the contents with her, but succeeded in creating an element of distraction that tired couldn’t completely contain. His aftershave was nice, not too spicy, not too bland. Her nose twitched, not opposed to smelling something not morgue related.

She stopped at one news item, lifting it to study through sleep hazed eyes. “Who’s that?”

“That is Zafiro. It popped up and I was curious,” he admitted. “Thought you might like a gander at him.”

The waves were hitting now, and the image was beyond grainy, but something in the very back of her brain twitched. She studied a couple of seconds longer, then put it down and closed the folder, giving a big yawn that her hand could barely cover. She gave him a rueful look. “Sorry.”

He grinned. “No worries. Surprised you made it as long as you did.”

The room began to waver and her eyes burned so she closed them. Was sort of aware of someone lifting her legs up onto the couch. A pillow appearing under her lowering head and a soft blanket sliding up her body. Then, so lightly she muttered a protest, lips pressed against hers…lingered…and then darkness swallowed her up….

W
hile he was
sorry that the shooters missed, Claude St. Cyr found the incident curious, but not terribly interesting, until the very end. There’d been nothing on the news about Calvino’s female companion, but it seemed that at least one of his informants knew why the scene had been so heavily “Baked.”

Dr. Hannah Baker had been with Guido Calvino.

What was Calvino’s interest in her? It couldn’t be personal. Not with her family baggage. And if it wasn’t personal? There was her family baggage. One stepped lightly around the Bakers. There were so many of them.

Which brought him back to why?

Had he received the same list of contents as Calvino? Was the doctor setting up a side business for herself? It seemed unlike a Baker, but all the apples couldn’t fall that close to the tree, could they?

Calvino had a knack for sniffing out what he wasn’t supposed to know. He’d seen the way Calvino looked at the doctor. And the way the doctor looked at Calvino. He moved quickly past how she’d looked at him. He preferred to be overlooked. It was safer for him. Look what getting involved with a woman had done to Phineas. Business was what mattered. Everything else was a distraction—

Had Guido set up the shooting for that purpose?

Claude leaned back in the huge chair, shifting in satisfaction, knowing Phineas would never again sit in it again. At long last, the shadow of the past was gone, well, almost gone. He’d have to do something about Helenne if the law didn’t take care of her.

He steepled his hands, resting his chin on his thumbs and considered the problem of Guido Calvino and Hannah Baker. It was possible that the meeting had been more about Bettino’s ring than the coffins. His mouth tightened. It galled him beyond words that his ring was being held as evidence. That Phineas had tried to keep it from him—it didn’t matter. Rings were symbols. Irrelevant in the end. What mattered was this. He gazed around the opulent office and remembered the power, the people he now controlled. The ring was—something, he admitted, or Phineas wouldn’t have tried to keep it from him. But it wasn’t everything.

He frowned suddenly. Could Bettino have been more forthcoming with his heir? Did Guido Calvino know something, either about the rings or the coffins, that Claude did not?

It made more sense than the doctor asking for money or Guido getting a crush on a Baker. Had he learned anything before the bullets started flying?

No way to find out, unless…

His thin mouth curled up. There were other ways to find out what one needed to know. A dossier and, yes, perhaps a discreet surveillance was in order. And if the doctor noticed? Then it was a sign she was not as innocent as she appeared to be.

H
annah carved
slices of beautifully cooked prime rib and ported them neatly to the extended plate, suppressing comparisons of doing the same with some bullet-ridden kidneys less than twenty-four hours previously. The guests of Sarah’s client wouldn’t appreciate the distinction of having their meat carved by a morgue cutter. Her siblings sure didn’t like her doing any carving at the family gatherings. Tended to kill their appetites.

Sarah appreciated her cutting skills. Hannah liked that. It helped being able to stay somewhat in her comfort zone—though it made her blink to think of the morgue as a comfort zone. Hannah hadn’t been sure what kind of server she’d be. Her brains had netted her scholarships, so she hadn’t had to wait tables to get through school. So far, she’d label herself as not bad, though she hadn’t had to tote trays of food or drinks, at least not in front of the guests. She’d helped unload the truck, of course.

It had been a bit of surprise to find this rather posh party was being given by the very same Miz Gladys who she’d dubbed Miz Cookie that day at Sarah’s place.

Miz Cookie’s house was like her. Perfectly sweet and trying to be more. It fell short, though it was hard to pinpoint exactly how. Hannah didn’t run in the kind of circles that Miz Cookie clearly aspired to join. If Hannah ran into rich and connected—and she tried not to—it was when they weren’t at their best.

Miz Cookie’s motherly smile—understandably MIA this night—kind of haunted Hannah. From what she could tell, peer pressure only got worse as the income went up. But it wasn’t her place to tell Miz Cookie that these people would never be her friends, had Hannah had the chance. Hers was to keep her mouth shut, and to slice and dice.

Hannah was used to fading into backgrounds—something easy to do in her sprawling family—but this was a different kind of fading into a very different background. In fact, it was about as far from her middle class, beat-up-furniture background as she could be. She was pretty sure none of the people holding out plates had given her more than the most cursory glance as they passed. The focus on the cutting had kept Hannah from doing much cranial study from her side of the table, which was good, since that made her lose focus. If she hadn’t been so busy, though, she could have assigned some very creative deaths to this crowd.

Seeing Mrs. Cookie with her guests was a bit like watching a guppy in a shark tank. Hannah could only suppose the poor lady’s extreme innocence protected her from the barbed comments about their hostess and her home that Hannah had heard murmured as guests passed along the buffet table. At least they liked the food.

Sarah drifted up behind her. “You doing all right?”

“So far.” Hannah didn’t miss a slice.

“You’re a wizard with a carving knife,” Sarah whispered, with a hint of a laugh in her voice, “and you haven’t dropped one slice.”

“Well, it’s kind of frowned on.” Hannah managed a quick grin over her shoulder, as the line began to slow. The table looked vaguely post-mortem, or perhaps ravaged was a better description. Sarah busied herself fixing that. Removing trays, replacing them with full ones.

A small lull in the chatter came about the same time as a late arrival. Hannah had a feeling she should recognize the woman. Perhaps from the cover of something or other? Hannah was addicted to forensic magazines, but her youngest sister liked popular culture stuff and left her magazines lying around Zach’s house even though she didn’t live there. The man with her was quite striking—though his creepy vibe had Hannah adding a toe tag labeled “stabbed in the back” to his ensemble.

“Mr. Afoniki,” Miz Cookie faltered, her polite not quite covering up her dismay at having a notorious mobster show up for her party. “Um, yes, well.” She glanced back toward the buffet. “There’s still some lovely…if you’re hungry? It’s quite good…at least…”

“I am a fan of Miss Sarah’s cooking,” he countered smoothly, just a hint of Russian in his voice. He moved forward, her guests parting for him and not completely closing behind him. With a true shark in their midst, her guests now looked more like guppies, too, in a pond they wished they could flee.

“Miz Cookie is a bit out of her depth,” Hannah muttered.

“Miz—oh.” A pause. “Why do you call her that?”

“She’s so sweet. Like a sugar cookie with sprinkles. Tons of sprinkles. So many sprinkles.” Saying it made her tongue feel coated again. When Sarah didn’t respond, Hannah turned, catching a very thoughtful expression on Sarah’s face.

“Do you think she’s sweet?” Sarah finally asked, then moved toward another tray that needed replaced without waiting for an answer.

Hannah turned her attention back to Miz Cookie and caught her watching Dimitri Afoniki—it had to be him, the nephew of the last surviving wise geezer—as he greeted Sarah with an interest not at all kind to his date. Miz Cookie’s looked the same, the sweet expression firmly in place, with just a tiny frown of worry between her carefully plucked brows. Were there depths beneath the sugar? Expressions were usually gone by the time she was brought on scene, so she hadn’t spent a lot of time training to parse them. If she was going to step out of her comfort zone, she might need to bone up.

“I would so very much like some of the prime rib,” the smooth, somewhat amused tone broke into her thoughts.

Hannah was annoyed with herself for losing track of the wise nephew, especially over Miz Cookie. She’d wanted to stay focused, do this gig right. She gave him an apologetic smile and swiftly compiled with his request. When Dimitri Afoniki didn’t move away, Hannah looked up to find a slight frown between his well-marked brows. He was tall, blond, so handsome it was almost fake, like he’d been air brushed. One could imagine the skull had been fashioned by a master sculptor, rather than formed by nature. It was that good. She suppressed the urge to add a bullet to the temple. Charm appeared with a smile. His gaze flicked up, then down to the half carved hunk of meat, then back to her face. The smile deepened.

“A most intriguing place to find you, Dr. Baker,” he murmured, as if he knew she didn’t want to be outed and he’d keep it their little secret. Cuz he was that kind of guy.

Hannah revised his possible death to something frontal with a knife. Multiples. She managed to keep her grip light on the knife in her right hand and gave him a puzzled look. “Have we met?”

“To my great regret, no, we have not. Something that needs to remedied and soon.”

The charm was there, in spades even, but Hannah was immune to charm floating atop pond scum. He moved away, which was a good thing, because her hand did tighten on the knife this time. She really didn’t want to expand her wise guy acquaintances any further than she already had, as it was sure to kick Alex into Big Brother, high alert status. And that might get in the way of whatever was going on between her and Ferris. If something was. Which it probably wasn’t.

His companion seemed untroubled by her date flirting—was it flirting? Hannah wasn’t sure if she’d been flirted with or warned. His date passed on the meat, her plate showing signs of tepid veganism. And possibly some gluten issues. She didn’t look like someone who liked to live dangerously, but it was possible she didn’t know her date was a black-hearted scumbag who probably ate raw meat in the privacy of his mansion.

The small interchange had not gone unnoticed by Miz Cookie, who popped up in front of Hannah with her most motherly smile and deepening signs of worry creasing her brows. Was she afraid Afoniki had hit on her?

“Would you like some, ma’am?” Hannah asked, indicating the prime rib in hopes of forestalling any mother-like questions. She was a terrible liar.

There was a pause, while suddenly intent eyes studied her. Then a polite-ish smile, tamped down for the help, creased her face very briefly.

“Does the hostess ever get to eat at her own party? I’ll have some later, dear.” Her gaze lingered on Hannah for another long moment, then turned toward a guest lingering over the tray of tarts. “I knew
you’d
like the tarts, Clara dear.”

Clara dear flushed and backed away from the tray. Hannah’s eyes widened at this outbreak of not so nice, then looked hastily down when Miz Cookie’s gaze swung back her direction. In the silence, she finally had to look up, and this time she saw past the sweet. Hannah felt the hairs on her arms lift and had to work at keeping her expression that of an innocuous server.

Usually she didn’t feel a need to fill silences. In her family, there weren’t that many.

“Everyone seems to be love the food, ma’am.” Hannah’s throat felt dry all the sudden.

“The food is—” Her gaze flicked toward Sarah for a moment, “as advertised.”

So might a cat sit on the hearth cleaning its claws one by one while it digested a songbird. And studied the next bird to go down. Almost Hannah thought she heard purring. Probably a good thing the lady’s ambitions appeared confined to social advancement. Miz Cookie’s gaze slanted her direction and Hannah wondered how she’d ever thought her nice. With some surprise at how steady her hands were, she produced several slices for a guest, feeling her tension ease as the Miz Cookie closed in on a bird-er-guest. Hannah lowered knife and fork and flexed her fingers with an inconvenient tremble.

H
annah was tired again
, but pleasantly tired this time. Sometimes a change was as good as a rest. Her sense that Sarah was good people had been confirmed, as well as her excellent intuition. She owed her for the warning about Miz Cookie. She probably wasn’t Afoniki and Calvino evil, but she was the poisonous type who would smile as she stabbed you in the back. Hannah felt distinctly sticky after an evening in her home.

As if she heard that thought, Sarah reached down and snagged a bag of pretzels. “These help.”

Hannah chuckled. If Sarah was good stuff—which she was—didn’t that mean that Nell was probably good stuff, too? Following that thought line, Hannah said, or possibly asked, “You’ve known Nell a long time.”

“We were roommates in college. Clicked from the first minute we met.” Her smile was reminiscent. “Sisters of other mothers.”

“Did you ever meet her parents?” Should she not ask? Tact wasn’t always her strong suit.

“Oh yeah. Still can’t quite believe it. You can’t imagine how weird it is.” She blinked and shook her head.

If it was that hard for Sarah… “Must be pretty challenging for Nell.”

Sarah’s gaze met hers, and Hannah was glad she meant it, wasn’t just saying it. Sarah nodded. “Nell’s had many tough things to deal with, including losing her parents.” She sighed. “Looking back, I can see it was really weird that they managed to never let her visit me here, but it all seemed so unavoidable and just, oh well. But parents, well, you believe them until you don’t.”

Hannah sensed something in that, something more than just growing up and finding out parents were human and fallible, but she’d never learned the art of being encouragingly noncommittal. A small silence fell, though not an uncomfortable one. Unconnected thoughts drifted through her head. Dissecting bodies was so much easier than sorting through family, history, life…

“Odd that Dimitri Afoniki showed up tonight,” Sarah said, as if following her own drifting series of thoughts.

Hannah looked at her. “He’s my third wise guy this week.”

“You know him?”

Hannah shook her head. “But he knew me.” That was odd. It’s not like she ended up in the news. Even in the drive-by, her brothers made sure she was “and companion” to the reporters.

“And he still took the prime rib? Well, he is a tough guy.” Her tone was light, but her eyes worried. “He keeps sniffing around my business. Not sure why.”

Wasn’t she? Had kind of seemed to Hannah that he was sniffing around Sarah—but then that could be a ruse to keep him in Nell’s orbit. Sarah had sure as heck not returned his interest vibes. Hannah had a sudden desire to see Sarah around Frank or Ben. What would the vibes be like then? Couldn’t imagine her going for either one of her brothers, but she might be too close. She loved her brothers but sure as heck wouldn’t want to date them.

“So how long have you and Logan Ferris been an item?”

Sarah’s question cut across Hannah’s half sleepy thoughts. She jerked to attention. “There’s not, I don’t—you haven’t said anything to—”

“To Nell? No chance. She’d spill it to Alex for sure.”

“Who would go bat crap crazy.” Hannah sagged back in the bucket seat of the van. “Alex has never noticed I’m in my thirties.” She paused, then added as if they weren’t connected. “Ferris is his partner. And younger than me.”

“Age only seems to matter when you’re really young or really old.” She studied Hannah for several seconds. “You look good together.”

“We’re not really…together together.” Unless kissing counted, which it kind of felt like it did. She bit her lip, acting on an atypical impulse. “I found something in the coffin that—I didn’t tell anyone about and then it disappeared.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times and Hannah knew why. A Baker. Inconceivable.

“What did you find?”

“It was a school ring.” Hannah rubbed her finger where one would have been, if she’d had one. She’d graduated early, not with “her” class. “It was Charlie Baker’s.”

“Your dad’s brother, Charlie?”

So she’d heard the story. She nodded.

“Wow. But, didn’t he…isn’t he…well, dead?” her voice trailed off. Hannah could almost see her doing the math.

“That’s always been the story,” Hannah admitted. “Zach, well, he is really good at stoic and need-to-know.” And protective. Really protective.

“A class ring,” Sarah murmured, “wasn’t he supposed to be in love with Ellie? Maybe she—”

“I did wonder about that. I mean, it’s not a stretch to believe she helped her daughter disappear. But then why put it in there?”

“Maybe it was an accident? Must have been a tense time.”

Hannah nodded. “It wasn’t part of the, er, arranged stuff.”

“Wow. And then it disappeared? Same person as the brick?”

Hannah shrugged. “I would assume so.” Hard to imagine two people lurking around the morgue.” She paused, then added, “Ferris, well, he kind of guessed I’d done something. I guess.” She may have helped him with that by being nervous. “He’s…helping me try to figure out…what to do…” Heat flushed her cheeks. She didn’t really know what it was they were doing. Wasn’t quite clear on what they weren’t doing either.