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Authors: Laura Resnick

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BOOK: Dopplegangster
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“He was only terrified, I think,” said Max, “because he knew what it meant. He knew because we had told him. Johnny saw his own doppelgangster, but he felt no fear, because he did
not
know what it meant.”
“So, whether or not he knows what it means, the victim dies after seeing the doppelgangster. We’d already figured that out,” Lucky said.
“But because of the way both Charlie and Danny died,” Max said, “I now think there’s more to it than that. When we said that upon seeing the doppelgangster, the victim is cursed with death, I think we failed to realize just how thorough the curse is.”
“Oh.” Lucky’s eyes widened. “I think I see where you’re goin’ with this. These were guys who walked around with the threat of death all the time. An ordinary curse wouldn’t really be a change of pace for them.”
“Indeed,” said Max. “As I understand it, a peaceful retirement is not the norm in your business. It’s more common for a member of your profession to die violently and perhaps in his prime.”
“Yeah.” Lucky grinned. “But me, I been lucky.”
“So these were men accustomed to taking precautions to safeguard their lives,” Max said. “It was habitual for them. I’ll wager that even Johnny Be Good, though he was careless in many ways, carried a firearm for self-protection.”
“You bet he did,” said Lucky.
“And Danny and Charlie had each reached an age and a rank that suggests they were good at staying alive.”
“They were.” Lucky nodded.
“This is why I believe the curse placed upon them was a powerful one,” said Max. “Extraordinarily powerful. It didn’t just sentence them to death. It ensured that
nothing
could prevent their deaths from that point onward. Not witnesses, not being hidden from view at a restaurant, not being in a locked cellar and well-armed. Once the victim was cursed, the killer could strike when and where he pleased.”
“So you’re saying the killer could stand at the window of Bella Stella’s and fire his gun around a corner to kill Charlie, as long as he knew Charlie was in there?” I said. “He could walk right past witnesses like Bobby and Nathan at Vino Vincenzo, and just
will
them not to see him? Then simply open a locked vault to kill Danny, even though he didn’t have the combination? And then leave again, still without Vinny and the others seeing him?”
“Yes, that’s exactly how I believe this is being achieved,” Max said. “The fatal curse imbued in the doppelgangsters made the victims utterly vulnerable to the murderer’s deadly intent, no matter what precautions they took.”
“Whoa,”
said Lucky, clearly impressed.
“But the killer is not
normally
invincible,” Max said. “These doppelgangsters are quite sophisticated, so making them must cost him enormous energy. Therefore, I postulate that they are essential to his plan. Not to confuse the evidence trail, as we previously discussed. That’s obviously useful, since the killer doesn’t need an alibi for a murder if the time of death can’t be established, but that’s a . . . a bonus, you might say. An example of how comprehensive our adversary’s strategy is.”
Max paused in thought for a moment, then continued, “Yes, I now believe each doppelgangster’s
primary
function is to curse the victim by making him utterly defenseless against the intended murder. After that, whatever time, place, and method the killer chooses to employ, it is invariably successful. So successful that no obstacle can thwart him and no witness can identify him.” Max concluded, “Therefore, once Doctor Dapezzo saw his own doppelgangster today, his death was virtually certain no matter what precautions he took.”
“But if the killer is that powerful,” I argued, “why go through this elaborate charade with the doppelgangsters? Why not just walk up to the victims, curse them to their faces, and kill them?”
“Well, there’s one obvious reason,” said Lucky. “He’s already killed three people and no one’s caught him, and no one can figure out who he is.”
“And,” I recalled, realizing the full significance of it now, “we got laughed off the stage last night when we tried to explain the danger to his next victim.”
“Yes,” Max agreed. “These are both excellent points. This method masks his identity, his activities, even his very existence. He calculated that no one would suspect doppelgängerism. And even if they did, he felt confident no one would listen to such a theory.”
“He got that right,” Lucky said morosely.
“Also,” I said, thinking about it, “the whole idea of a doppelgänger is spooky. It creeps me out, it scared Charlie witless, and it terrified Danny. That fear gives the killer psychological power over his intended victims. Maybe inspiring such visceral fear even gives the killer a kick, some sadistic satisfaction.”
“Hmm. Interesting point.” Max frowned thoughtfully. “This is a subtle plan using innovative tactics, so we should not underestimate our adversary. I doubt that either his motives or his intentions are simplistic. There is something exceptionally . . .
devious
occurring here.” Max sniffed the air. “I forgot about the coffee!” He rose to go get it.
When he came back with the pot, I said, “I just thought of something else, Max. We know now that Johnny’s doppelgangster was telling us the truth about seeing Danny’s doppelgangster.”
“Ah, yes! Hmm. So they’re not self-aware,” Max mused as he poured the coffee. “That is to say, a doppelgangster evidently has no idea it isn’t the real individual. Otherwise, why would Johnny’s duplicate have told us about seeing another such creature?”
“It acted just like Johnny because it really believed it was Johnny,” Lucky said.
“Exactly. Moreover,” Max said, “there’s an obvious corollary. The doppelgangsters cannot recognize each other.”
I gasped. “That’s right! When Johnny’s double met Danny’s double, he was as clueless about its true nature as the real Johnny would have been.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Lucky said. “Does this mean
I
could be a doppelgangster and not even know it? Or one of you?”
“That reminds me! Danny’s death almost made me forget,” said Max. “I continued my reading this morning, after a few hours of sleep, and I found the solution to one major aspect of our problem. It turns out that it is childishly simple to identify a doppelgangster!”
I blinked. “It is?”
“Do we need holy water?” Lucky asked. “I know where we can get all we need.”
“No, not necessary,” Max assured him.
I said, “I thought you were using Nelli to identify doppelgangsters?”
“Alas, until she actually exposes one, we have no way of being sure that she
can
identify these creatures. But according to my reading, we needn’t worry.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m probably going to keep worrying,” I said. “But go ahead and explain. How can we identify a doppelgangster?”
“As we’ve learned, such a creature is made of ephemeral substances empowered through mystical means. One way in which the duplicates we’ve encountered fit the classic doppelgänger pattern is that their function is specific and limited. Therefore, all the effort invested in fashioning a doppelgangster goes to its outward appearance and its imitative behavior. For a brief period, it must
seem
to be the real thing, that’s all.”
“So?” I prodded.
“So its internal mass is undisguised ephemeral matter.”
“I got no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucky said.
“In other words, they’re not real people,” Max said. “They’re mystical in nature. So although you may hear a heartbeat if you get close enough—because this seems to be a very talented and thorough sorcerer who would not neglect such important details—there isn’t actually a heart. Or a liver or bones or lungs or soft tissue or blood!” He looked at us triumphantly.
Lucky and I looked blankly at each other for a moment.
“So, Max, you’re sayin’ we gotta whack someone and open him up to see whether he’s a person or a doppelgangster? That don’t seem like much of a solution.”
“No! No, nothing so extreme. Don’t you see?” Max said. “Doppelgangsters don’t have blood. They don’t bleed!”
“So we gotta
stab
someone we suspect?” Lucky guessed.
“No,” Max said. “We just need to, oh, prick him with a needle, for example.”
“Oh! I get it now,” I said. “We only need to do enough damage to see whether someone bleeds like a normal human being?”
“Exactly!” Max said. “If you prick someone’s finger with suitable emphasis, and there’s no sign whatsoever of blood, you’ve just found a doppelgangster.”
“And once we find one,” I said, “how do we, uh, neutralize it?”
“Oh, that’s easy. We simply decapitate it.”
“What?”
Max added, “From now on, we should keep large bladed weapons handy at all times for this purpose.”
“Max!”
“It won’t be like human decapitation, my dear,” he said reassuringly. “Remember, doppelgangsters don’t bleed or have any connective tissue.”
“That’s not the point!” I rubbed my hand over my face. “At least, it’s not the
main
point. If we’re going to cut off someone’s head, we’d better be damn sure the individual in question really
is
a doppelgangster!”
“Oh, yes,” Max agreed. “Yes, indeed.”
“
Damn
sure, Max!”
He nodded and patted my hand. “That’s why it’s so important to prick someone and check for blood before you attempt decapitation, Esther.”
“
I
can’t decapitate someone!” I said, aghast.
“Strictly speaking, you won’t be decapitating some
one
,” Max said, “but rather some
thing
.”
“Either way, I can’t do it,” I insisted.
“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ll take care of it. I’m used to it.” Lucky added to Max, “It’s not something a young lady should do.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Max said.
“But we’re
all
gonna have to learn to identify doppelgangsters,” Lucky said firmly.
Feeling rather frazzled, I said, “Maybe we should get a test kit for diabetics. They have to prick themselves enough to bleed, don’t they?”
“I’ve always got a couple of knives on me. For backup,” Lucky said, reaching into one of his pockets. “I’ll give you one. That’ll do the job better than a needle.”
“I don’t think I want a knife,” I said doubtfully.
“There’s three guys dead, and we got no other way of identifying these creatures.”
“Okay, I’ll take a knife,” I said. “You have a way of putting things into perspective.”
“Here, have this one. It’s small, a good size for a woman.” He gave me a switchblade that seemed like some sort of stealth weapon. The curved blade was a dull gray color and barely two inches long. “You’d better start by using it on me.”
“What?” I blurted.
“I feel perfectly normal,” Lucky said. “But we’ve already figured out that every doppelgangster thinks it’s for real. So before we do anything else, we better make sure nobody here is one of them things.”
“Does that mean you’re going to cut
me?
” I asked anxiously.
“Yep. Don’t worry, I’m an expert, you won’t feel a thing.” He offered me his hand, palm up. “But since only wiseguys have been duplicated so far, I’m the most likely ringer in the room. So go ahead and make sure I really am who I think I am.”
Grasping the little knife, I took Lucky’s hand in mine, brought the sharp, dull-colored blade close to his flesh . . . and then said, “I can’t do it.”
“Go on,” he urged.
“I’ve never cut someone. I don’t know how.”
“It’s just like cuttin’ meat.”
“Oh, God,” I said, revolted. “That didn’t help.”
“Take the point of the knife and poke my finger.”
I tried again, then shook my head. “I can’t do it.”
“I can see you really are gonna have trouble decapitating an ephemeral mystical creature,” he said. “Come on, just do it, kid. Hey, I got an idea. Think about Salvatore Fatico.”
That helped. I poked the blade into his finger.
“Ouch!” Lucky said. “Not so hard!”
“Oops! Sorry.”
“I’ll get a bandage,” Max said.
While Max fetched something for the bleeding, Lucky looked at his wounded finger. “Well, at least we know I ain’t a doppelgangster.”
Since I obviously needed practice, the two men insisted I had to be the one to test Max, too. I didn’t cut him hard enough the first time, which led to a tense moment among us all before I tried again and drew blood. Then Lucky tested me. Despite his guarantee, I felt the cut. But I only bled a little.
“Okay, so that’s done,” Lucky said matter-of-factly. “We’re all the original versions of ourselves. Good to know.”
BOOK: Dopplegangster
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