Final Breath (39 page)

"Oh, my God," Eli whispered.

The return address on back showed the note was from R. Landau on McGraw Street in Seattle. Eli pulled a birthday card from the envelope. The cover showed an old black-and-white photo of a little girl in a party hat. She was about to blow out the candles on her birthday cake. The preprinted inside message read:
ANOTHER YEAR YOUNGER!
Below that was a note:

Dear Loretta,

I know you don't want to hear from me. But this is your birthday, and I need you to know that I'm thinking of you & wishing you well. Happy Birthday.

Always, Robert

Eli looked at the fourth envelope--addressed in sloppy script to Loretta Sayers here at the Tudor Court, again. There was no return address, just
Hallmark
on the back flap. The postmark read: NOV 6, '74. Only a few days later, Loretta and her son would be dead.

Eli reached into the envelope. It was another card--a cheesy photograph of a couple embracing on a bluff in front of an orange sunset. They wore really ugly polyester-looking clothes from the seventies.
"Someone Special Like You..."
was preprinted in swirling script at the bottom of the card. Inside, in the same script:
"...Makes My Day Complete."

Above and below this sappy sentiment was a note in the same sloppy script:

Dear Loretta,

You can't just stop seeing me. It isn't fair & I won't stand for it. Maybe you think you can treat your husband that way, but I'm not him. We love each other & you know it. If you don't see me again, you'll be sorry. Only a whore would act this way. Do you know how much you've hurt me? I deserve better. I've been very good to you. I'm so angry at you & yet despite everything I still love you. Please let me be with you at least one more time. Despite everything I still love you.

Chris

Eli didn't know who Chris was. In everything he'd read about Loretta Sayers, he hadn't run across that name. But obviously, Chris was some lover Loretta had scorned. And he was so mad and so much in love with her, he'd practically threatened her if she didn't see him again.
"Despite everything I still love you,"
he'd said that twice.

The old Hallmark card had been stuck in the back of the breakfront all these years. Obviously, the police hadn't seen it; otherwise, this Chris person would have been a suspect in the deaths of Loretta and Earl.

Eli wondered why Loretta would save a correspondence like this unless it somehow amused her that she could drive a lover crazy. Or perhaps Earl had walked in on his mother reading it, and she'd stashed Chris's card in the drawer. The same thing had happened just a few days ago when he'd walked in on his mom reading that letter from his dad.

Eli raced up to his room, and found the number for Evergreen Point Manor. He called them from the phone in his mother's room. When the operator answered, he asked to talk to Vera Cormier. "She might be out in the garden if she's not in her room," Eli said. "It's really important that I talk to her."

While he waited, Eli heard a beep on the line--another call, probably his uncle again. Part of him really wanted to tell Uncle Kyle what he'd just discovered. But he was still angry and hurt. The beep sounded again, but Eli ignored it.

Finally, he heard a click, then ring tones. After the second one, somebody picked up. "Hello?"

He recognized Vera's voice. "Hi, this is Eli," he said. "We talked the other day--you know, about Loretta and Earl Sayers..."

"Well, hello again, Eli. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm wondering if Mrs. Sayers ever mentioned someone named Chris. Like a boyfriend, maybe? Do you remember that name?"

"No, dear, I'm sorry..."

"Maybe Chris was one of the other neighbors," he suggested.

"No, that doesn't ring a bell," she replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, dear. I don't remember anyone named Chris."

He sighed. "Okay, well, thank you, Mrs. Cormier. Have a nice day."

"You, too, bye now." Then he heard a click.

Undaunted, Eli dug into the pockets of his cargo pants until he found a business card. Then he dialed the office number for Burton C. Demick.

"Rayburn, Demick, and Gill," the woman answered. "Mr. Demick's office, this is Cheryl. How can I help you?"

"Yes, is Mr. Demick in, please?"

"Who's calling?"

"Um, my name's Eli, and I met him yesterday. I was there with my uncle."

"One minute, please."

While he waited, Eli sat down on the edge of his mother's bed. It wasn't long before the woman came back on the line. "I'm sorry. Mr. Demick is in a meeting. Would you like to leave your number?"

"Um, that's okay. Thank you." Then Eli hung up.

He was better off talking with Mr. Demick in person. There was a good chance he knew this Chris person--or at least he might have heard Earl talk about him. In fact, maybe
Chris
was short for Christine. Chris could have been a girl. That would explain why the marriage to Mr. Landau didn't work out. Maybe Loretta had been a lesbian.

He remembered his uncle saying yesterday that they should have changed their clothes before visiting the law firm. So Eli retreated to his room and put on a clean white short-sleeve shirt, long navy blue pants, and a striped tie. His good shoes were horribly uncomfortable, so he just put on some black Converse All-Stars. He got some more change for the bus, and just in case, he dug out that twenty-dollar bill with the missing corners the psychic lady had torn off.

With Chris's Hallmark card in his hand, he hurried downstairs.

The telephone rang again. Eli hesitated, waiting for the machine to come on. He glanced down at the envelope.
This could be evidence,
he thought. He shouldn't just be carrying it around. Ducking into his mother's office, he found a big manila envelope, and slipped Chris's correspondence inside it.

Meanwhile, the machine let out a beep, and he heard his uncle again:
"Eli, it's Uncle Kyle giving it another shot here. Please, pick up. Please? Okay, I'm convinced something is seriously wrong here. I'm calling the police. If you're there, please pick up. If you get this message--"

Eli snatched up the cordless. "Hi, Uncle Kyle."

"Oh, thank God!" his uncle cried. "I was convinced you'd been abducted! Why did you just disappear like that?"

"I heard you talking to Mom upstairs," Eli muttered.

There was dead silence on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry that you got stuck with me," Eli added.

"Oh, Eli, I'm such an ass," his uncle said woefully. "Please, don't say that. It's not true. I was just mad at your mom. Listen, stay put, and I'll come pick you up. We'll go do something fun. Let me make it up to you..."

"No, thanks," Eli said. He was still mad. "I'm going out. Don't worry about me. I'll call you later."

"Eli, please--"

"Bye," he said. Then he hung up. A minute later, Eli was out the door and double locking it. He could hear the phone ringing again on the other side.

With the manila envelope tucked under his arm, Eli turned and walked away.

The Number 11 bus pulled up toward his stop. Already Eli was sweating through his white shirt. It had gotten muggy out. And on top of that, he perspired when he got nervous. He felt so close to solving this thirty-four-year-old double murder.

He glanced up at the rain clouds darkening the sky. He hadn't thought to bring an umbrella.

Obviously, he hadn't been thinking at all; otherwise he would have noticed the man across the street earlier. Eli caught a glimpse of him climbing into a white Taurus. The dark-skinned man wore sunglasses and a red shirt, but there was no mistaking who he was. Eli wondered how long he'd been there, watching him.

The bus suddenly pulled up, blocking his view.

Eli stepped aboard, paid his fare, and quickly took a seat on the left side so he could look out the window at the man. As the bus lurched forward, he saw the white Taurus pulling out of its parking spot. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. He turned forward and saw two punk, teenage girls staring at him from across the aisle.

"You look like a Jehovah's Witness," one of them said. Her friend giggled.

Eli didn't say anything, but he felt this awful pang in his stomach. He turned away and gazed out the window again. He couldn't see the white car. But he knew it was following him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Demick left for the day," the receptionist told him. It wasn't the pretty brunette from yesterday. This one had very short platinum-blond hair and dark red lipstick. She nodded at the manila envelope in Eli's hand. "Is that for him?"

"Um, yes," Eli said. "I--ah, I need him to sign for it. Could you tell me where he went? It's urgent he get this."

She held out her hand. "If you leave it with me, I'll see his assistant gets it."

Eli shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I really need to hand it to him in person and get his signature."

With a tiny frown, the receptionist reached for her phone. "One minute, please," she said. She punched a few numbers, and then her voice dropped to a whisper as she talked to someone on the line. Eli couldn't hear her. He wondered if she was calling security on him.

He was amazed he'd made it this far. Getting off the bus earlier, he'd kept a lookout for that creepy man, but he hadn't seen him or the white Taurus. It had just started to rain as he'd hurried into the lobby of Mr. Demick's building. While waiting for the elevator, Eli had thought he'd spotted the man again by the revolving doors. But it had been another guy in a red shirt.

The blonde hung up the phone and smiled at him. "Are you from Coupland and Douglas?" she asked.

Eli didn't know if that was good or bad, but he took a chance and nodded.

She pulled up something on her computer, then scribbled on a notepad. "Mr. Demick went home for the day. This is his address." She handed him a piece of paper. "Are you on a bike or did you walk over?"

"Um, I walked."

"Well, he's in West Seattle. You'll need a cab. I'll call one for you." She reached for the phone again. "And I'll call Mr. Demick and tell him you're on your way." She nodded at the envelope again. "You know, you're late. We were expecting that at nine o'clock."

"Yes," Eli said. "I know. They got held up in the--the copy room. Thank you for your help."

"It'll be a yellow cab out front," she said.

Eli nodded politely, then turned and quickly headed for the double glass doors. Just as he stepped out to the foyer, one of the elevators let out a ding and the third door down opened. The swarthy man in the red shirt seemed out of place amid the businesspeople riding the elevator with him. He still had his sunglasses on.

Swiveling around, Eli ran down the hallway and ducked into the first door with an Exit sign over it.

"Wait!" he heard the man shout behind him.

He staggered into an ugly stairwell with white walls and grey steps. Racing down the first flight of stairs, Eli tried the door to the twenty-sixth floor, but it was locked. "Shit!" he hissed.

Above him, he heard the door open.

He scurried down the next flight of stairs and tried the door on twenty-five, but it was locked as well. He ran as fast as he could down to the next floor. The footsteps above him echoed in the stark stairwell. The man seemed to be gaining on him. "Eli?" the man called. "Eli, stop!"

But he kept running. How did that guy know his name? What was going on? Eli tried the door on the twenty-third floor. He even banged on it repeatedly.

"Goddamn it, Eli!" the man yelled. "Stop! I'm a friend of your father's!"

The voice was right above him now.

Eli didn't believe him. How often did child killers use that "I'm a friend of your dad's" line?

He turned and raced down another flight, where he saw a fire extinguisher bracketed to the wall. Eli grabbed it. The man's footsteps got louder and closer. "Eli, wait up!" he called. Eli saw his hand moving down the railing just half a flight up. His shadow began to sweep over the landing.

Just then, Eli threw the fire extinguisher at his feet. The tinny, clanking sound reverberated through the stairwell. So did the man's sharp cry as he tripped over the extinguisher and fell. "Goddamn it!" he bellowed.

Eli didn't wait to see how far the creepy guy had fallen or how badly he was hurt. He'd already turned around and bolted down the next group of steps. Eli tried the door on the twentieth floor, and to his utter relief, it was open.

"Eli, wait!" the man called. "I know your dad..."

Eli shut the stairwell door, and it cut off the sound of the stranger's voice.

He took the elevator from the twentieth floor down to the lobby, where he saw the yellow cab waiting in front of the building. Eli was still catching his breath as he headed out the revolving door. He had the manila envelope tucked under his arm, but stopped in the rain for a moment to check his pockets for the piece of paper with Mr. Demick's address on it. "Oh, no," he murmured. "Oh, no, please, God..."

Just when he'd thought he was getting the hell out of there, he would have to go back. Dejectedly, he wandered over to the cab and opened the front passenger door. "I'm doing a delivery for a law firm," he said to the driver--a middle-aged, thin black man with gray hair. "Are you waiting for me?"