Part 40 (2/2)

”Who exactly killed Eddie?”

”I don't know. And I don't want to know.” The settled expression of resigned unhappiness came over her face again. ”It's business. I stay out of it.”

When I came upstairs to the bookstore, Max asked, ”Should I go downstairs and guard the doppelgangster?”

I shook my head. ”She says she wants some time alone. I checked her bonds in case it was a trick. But they're secure.”

Max was sitting at the table, reading Middle High German. The area all around us was still covered with doppelgangster detritus. There were several large piles of mingled feathers and dirt, scatterings of pebbles and bird bones, dust all over the place . . .

”We should clean this place,” I said.

”Yes,” Max said.

We looked at the mess for a moment longer.

Then he went back to reading, and I sat down at the table with him.

”Max,” I said, ”what will we do with her?”

”It, my dear.” He looked up from his book. ”It.”

”We can't keep it tied up down there forever. In fact, if doppelgangsters need to sleep or, uh, use the facilities, we can't even keep it like this all night. And you know we can't, um . . .”

”Dispatch it? We'll have to, at some point, Esther.”

”Lucky won't stand for it,” I said with certainty.

”That mystical ent.i.ty's existence endangers a human woman's life.” Max closed his book and set it aside. ”It must be destroyed.”

”Oh, Max, I feel weird about this. I just had girl talk with her-it. I don't see how we can . . . you know.”

”Girl talk?”

”We talked about men.”

”Ah.”

”It's disturbing how much that thing seems like the real Elena. It remembers her whole life.”

Max nodded. ”Right up until the moment of its creation. But it has no knowledge of what happened this afternoon, Esther. Of your encounter with the real real Widow Giacalona.” Widow Giacalona.”

I nodded. After a moment, I said, ”I still think Buonarotti's involved in this. Everything we said earlier today about him as a likely accomplice still holds true.”

”Yes,” Max said thoughtfully. ”That's a good point.”

”And last night, he got fresh with the widow. Very Very fresh, from the sound of it. She's furious about it. I doubt a woman who's chosen to marry three times would be shocked by roving hands, so I think Buonarotti must've gotten pretty rough.” fresh, from the sound of it. She's furious about it. I doubt a woman who's chosen to marry three times would be shocked by roving hands, so I think Buonarotti must've gotten pretty rough.”

”You think he tried to force himself on her?”

”Yes. And she pushed him down the stairs.”

”Having met him, I suspect he would be enraged rather than contrite,” Max mused. ”And today the widow's doppelgangster appeared.”

”Dressed as Elena might have been dressed last night, if she was on a dinner date that went bad.”

”My goodness! Do you realize, Esther, that we have learned something useful, after all, from interviewing the doppelgangster? Or, rather, you you have. This 'girl talk' is most informative!” have. This 'girl talk' is most informative!”

”But Buonarotti . . . Is he the doppelgangster-making type? Is he the subtle, inventive, devious sorcerer you've talked about?” I shook my head. ”I just don't see that.”

”No. Whereas he is is well-suited to be the accomplice whose role is to finish the work, so to speak. And evidently he asked his partner in crime to duplicate the widow,” Max said. ”I suppose her violent death might contribute to the eruption of tribal warfare, considering that Lucky is so fond of her-” well-suited to be the accomplice whose role is to finish the work, so to speak. And evidently he asked his partner in crime to duplicate the widow,” Max said. ”I suppose her violent death might contribute to the eruption of tribal warfare, considering that Lucky is so fond of her-”

”Apparently Don Victor is also fond of her.” I shrugged. ”And, who knows, perhaps Don Carmine Corvino is fond of her, too. She married two Corvinos, after all.”

”So the mysterious partner might see a benefit in cooperating with Don Michael Buonarotti's demand, which would explain why he complied. The widow's murder might push the two families even further toward the war that our adversary is trying to bring about. Even though, for Don Michael, the duplication was inspired by personal motives.” Max thought it over and nodded. ”A rejected and humiliated suitor, a violent man with a short temper and the capacity for brutal, opportunistic murder . . . Yes, if Don Michael is in league with the sorcerer, then the temptation would be irresistible to ask his colleague to duplicate the widow.”

”Maybe you were right, Max.” My heart started pounding. ”Maybe the solution is is just around the corner. I mean, we're saying . . .” just around the corner. I mean, we're saying . . .”

”We're saying,” Max said, ”that we think Don Michael knows who's creating the doppelgangsters.”

”So how do we make a Mafia killer tell us what we want to know?”

My phone rang, startling me. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at the LCD panel. ”It's Thack,” I said. It seemed as if I had been trying to talk to him since forever. ”Probably calling to tell me the role on The Dirty Thirty The Dirty Thirty that I wanted to audition for has already been filled by now.” I flipped open the phone. ”h.e.l.lo?” that I wanted to audition for has already been filled by now.” I flipped open the phone. ”h.e.l.lo?”

”I meant to call you earlier, Esther, but it's been another crazy day!” There was a lot of noise in the background.

”Uh-huh.” I glanced at my watch and noticed it was past nine o'clock already.

”A vodka tonic, please!”

”What?”

”I'm talking to the bartender,” Thack said. ”It's intermission at Long Day's Journey Into Night Long Day's Journey Into Night on Long Island. My G.o.d, the things I do for my clients.” on Long Island. My G.o.d, the things I do for my clients.”

That explained the background noise. I knew that play. Everyone Everyone would be racing for the bar. And if Thack was there to watch a client's performance, he couldn't even leave early. He'd have to sit through the whole thing. would be racing for the bar. And if Thack was there to watch a client's performance, he couldn't even leave early. He'd have to sit through the whole thing.

”I'm afraid I've got bad news,” Thack said.

”I thought so,” I said with resignation.

”But the good good news,” he said gleefully, ”outweighs the bad!” news,” he said gleefully, ”outweighs the bad!”

”There's good news?” It was about time.

”Absolutely! But bad news first. You didn't get the part of the grad student on Dirty Thirty Dirty Thirty.”

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