Doppelgangster Part 42

"I think I know!" I followed him as I recalled Elena's appearance that afternoon at St. Monica's. "Her necklace! That big cross. This afternoon at the church was the first time I've seen her without it."

Max paused at the door to the cellar. "And now her doppelgangster is wearing it. Excellent! I think I know what to do."

He went down the stairs, moving swiftly. I followed him.

Elena's perfect double looked up when we entered the laboratory. "Is this your entire plan?" she said in exasperation. "To keep me tied up in a bas.e.m.e.nt? Don't you think-"

"Did Don Michael take your cross?" Max demanded.

"What?"

"I beg your pardon." Max said. "I know this is a distasteful subject, but I gather he tried to force himself on you last night?"

"He's a pig," she said with disgust.

"He manhandled you? Was rough with you?"

"Yes. When I resisted him, he got angry."

"You struggled?"

She nodded. "And he pulled my hair, shoved me around, tried to unzip my dress."

"He is is a pig," I said. And Lucky would kill him when he found out about this. a pig," I said. And Lucky would kill him when he found out about this.

"And your necklace?" Max said. "Your cross?"

"It came off while I fought him." She scowled, looking furious. "He picked it up and wouldn't give it back. It was my mother's mother's. It's a sacred symbol! And that stronzo stronzo wouldn't give it back to me." wouldn't give it back to me."

"So you kicked him down the stairs."

"Yes," she said with dark satisfaction. she said with dark satisfaction.

"And what do you remember after that?" Max asked.

She looked confused. "After that?"

"After you kicked him down the stairs, and he went away," Max said. "What happened next?"

"Next? Next, next . . ." She looked puzzled as she thought about it.

"Tell me the very next thing you can remember after that moment."

Elena seemed bewildered. "Next I . . . I came home today and found you in my apartment."

"Yes," Max said. "That is indeed what happened next.

To you you."

He reached around her neck, grasped the silver chain that hung there, and snapped the clasp.

"Max," I said as he removed the necklace from her throat. The ornate cross glinted in the lamplight as it swung in his hand. "What are you doing?"

Elena's eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled back in their sockets. Her head fell backward. Her whole body quivered. There was a small explosion, and a tower of feathers, bird bones, pebbles, and clumps of dirt collapsed all over the chair where, only a moment ago, the doppelgangster had been tied up.

"The token used to create the doppelgangster is the only part of the creature that's real," Max explained. "Remove it, and the illusion disintegrates."

"Is there any more of that sherry?" I couldn't stand sherry, but I had felt the distinct need for a soothing beverage, and sherry was all that Max had. "Pour me another gla.s.s."

He did, saying, "Try to sip this one slowly."

"Lucky's going to be upset when he finds out we killed it."

"We didn't kill anything," Max said patiently. "We deconstructed a convincing illusion."

"Well, at least we didn't have to behead it." The second gla.s.s of sherry was helping my hands stop shaking. With a grimace, I sipped a little more of the revolting stuff. We were back upstairs, sitting at the big walnut table, still surrounded by the filth of Lopez's former doppelgangster. I added with some relief, "So I guess we don't need to carry a machete around the city."

"No, I think not," Max agreed. "From now on, when Nelli identifies a doppelgangster, we merely need to determine what mystically imbued personal token it possesses and remove the object. That will banish the illusion."

"You mean make it explode into messy c.r.a.p," I said.

Max said thoughtfully, "My reading in recent days led me to ponder the possibilities of psychic transformation, soul possession, animation of physically altered corpses-"

"Animation of what? what?"

"There were some theories I felt it best not to share with you unless I found confirmation of them in our actual experiences," he admitted.

"Good call," I said faintly.

"But this this . . ." He made a little sound of admiration. "This is unprecedented in the annals of doppelgangerism!" . . ." He made a little sound of admiration. "This is unprecedented in the annals of doppelgangerism!"

"How thrilling."

"As is the use of doppelgangers to facilitate-nay, to ensure-the success of a.s.sa.s.sination!"

"Remarkable."

"And at the same time, it's so absurdly simple!'

"It is?"

"Our adversary combined vastly different traditions-competing schools of thought, you might say-to enact his plan. Doppelgangerism is an abstract, elusive, and isolated mystical phenomenon. But the use of personal tokens in the practice of magic is common and widespread among multiple disciplines-all of them entirely unrelated to the highly esoteric mystery of doppelgangerism!" He shook his head in wonder. "I am forced to congratulate our foe on his imaginative practice of his art."

"Max, if we could cease the thunderous applause for a moment, I'd like to point out that our imaginative foe is trying to kill me me."

"Oh! Yes, of course. How thoughtless of me, Esther." He pulled himself together. "Do forgive me."

"Let's look at motive, means, and opportunity," I said, using Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment as my tactical guide. "The motive is evidently to destroy-or at least severely damage-the Gambellos and Corvinos by manipulating them into a new mob war when both families would much rather avoid that." as my tactical guide. "The motive is evidently to destroy-or at least severely damage-the Gambellos and Corvinos by manipulating them into a new mob war when both families would much rather avoid that."

"Agreed."

"The means is innovative, devious, and mystical. So the person behind this is someone who combines a shrewd intellect with the ability to conceal his true nature from others."

"I'm convinced of it."

"Which brings us to opportunity," I said.

"Indeed. We must determine who has had the opportunity to steal tokens from the known victims."

"Someone who's a good pickpocket, I suppose." A moment later I gasped as I realized what I had just said. "A pickpocket pickpocket."

"Esther?"

My heart was pounding. "The day I saw Chubby Charlie's perfect double." My G.o.d, had it been a week ago? How time flies when you're fighting Evil. "Now I know!"

"Know what?"

"Which one was the duplicate!" I turned to Max.

"Charlie thought of himself as a sharp dresser, and he paid special attention to accessorizing. He always wore matching socks, tie, and pocket handkerchief. The evening that two two of him came to the restaurant, the first one had all his accessories. The second one, utterly identical in every other way, was missing the pocket handkerchief. I noticed it because I had just seen Charlie, and I had of him came to the restaurant, the first one had all his accessories. The second one, utterly identical in every other way, was missing the pocket handkerchief. I noticed it because I had just seen Charlie, and I had just just straightened that thing for him." straightened that thing for him."

"And the second one was missing it?"

"He said it had been stolen. And I remember wondering who'd be reckless enough to pick the pocket of a Gambello killer!"

"That was the token!" Max said. "The handkerchief was stolen and used to create the doppelgangster that you encountered at Bella Stella's that evening, shortly before the real real Chubby Charlie came to dinner." Chubby Charlie came to dinner."

"Okay," I said. "We know that Michael Buonarotti took the widow's necklace. But I don't see how he could've have taken the handkerchief, too. Not without getting caught. I think Charlie would've noticed the don of a rival family getting that close to him."

"Don Michael took the widow's necklace in violence and without stealth or secrecy. So, no, he doesn't seem a likely prospect for subtly extracting a valued accessory from the pocket of an experienced Gambello captain." Max added, "I doubt that Chubby Charlie would have been an easy target for theft. Therefore, I propose that the thief was someone he felt comfortable with. Someone whom he trusted, in a sense."

"But who did Charlie trust that Danny Dapezzo trusted, too?"

"It might help if we had some idea what token Doctor Dapezzo . . ." His eyes widened. "Oh!"

I realized it at the same moment he did. "His reading gla.s.ses!" At the sit-down, Danny was using a new pair that he didn't like.

My old ones are missing, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Those frames were real real gold, you know. gold, you know.

Max said, "So we're hunting an adversary who was able to get close enough to steal Doctor Dapezzo's gold reading gla.s.ses as well as Charlie Chiccante's handkerchief."

"But I I wasn't pickpocketed," I said. "I was just careless. I left my wrap in the church crypt. How did the killer know? Was I followed?" wasn't pickpocketed," I said. "I was just careless. I left my wrap in the church crypt. How did the killer know? Was I followed?"

"The widow told you there have been thefts at the church lately. Perhaps the killer lurks there and stole the wrap out of habit, upon seeing the opportunity." Max slapped his hand on the table, making me jump. "And now we know how the victims are chosen!"

I blinked. "How?"

"Opportunity."

"Oppor-Oh! I see! He didn't set out to kill Charlie.

He found an opportunity to steal a token from Charlie, and that turned Charlie into a victim."

"Yes! Similarly, Doctor Dapezzo became a victim because because of the loss of his gla.s.ses," Max said. "The killer's objective was to create murder victims in each of the loss of his gla.s.ses," Max said. "The killer's objective was to create murder victims in each famiglia famiglia and to do so without his accomplice, who actually committed the slayings, being identified. However, it didn't particularly matter to him and to do so without his accomplice, who actually committed the slayings, being identified. However, it didn't particularly matter to him which which family members died violently." family members died violently."

"Just as long as long as their deaths led to a war."

Max said, "This is why even Lucky, who knew the victims well, was unable to see a basis for how they were being chosen. Because the basis was, in a sense, quite random. They were simply the individuals from whom it had been possible to steal a token."

"But why duplicate me? me? I'm not a Gambello or a Corvino." I'm not a Gambello or a Corvino."

"And, indeed, the killer may have originally intended to restrict his victims to Gambellos and Corvinos. But then he realized you posed a threat to his plans. Just as Detective Lopez did. And so, since he had already stolen your wrap, the killer then overcame any scruples he may have had, and he duplicated you."

"Well, that certainly didn't take long," I said sourly.

"I don't believe there was ever any serious possibility that the killer would remain selective about his victims, even if he commenced his activities with that intention," Max said. "Evil is always voracious."

I thought of the widow and realized how right Max was. She had been targeted for death just because she rejected a rough pa.s.s. "This guy really is is evil." evil."

"I suggest that he is also fully aware of our investigation."

"Right. I didn't get duplicated just for hanging out too much in a church lately." I felt icy insects all over my skin again. "But why duplicate me, rather than you or Lucky? Don't both of you pose a bigger threat to the killer than I do?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, my dear!" Max added, "In any case, I am not, to my knowledge, missing any of my belongings. Nor has Lucky mentioned the loss of any personal possessions."

"But I was careless with my wrap," I said grimly. "So I became a target of opportunity."

"Opportunity," Max said again, dwelling on the word. "Our adversary is an improviser. He thinks on his feet and continually adapts his plan to new events and information."

"And he's filching stuff from a church church." I was annoyed. "I loved that outfit."

"You've spent more time at St. Monica's than I have," Max said. "Whom have you noticed lurking there?"

"The Widow Giacalona, certainly." I shrugged. "Other women, I guess. They've got the hots for the priest."

"Ah, yes. Well, he is an appealing young man, and it's amazing how often celibacy creates an aura of . . ." Max sat up straighter, looking stunned. "Good gracious! The priest priest lurks around the church." lurks around the church."

"Yeah, but that's his job," I said dismissively.

"Which means his lurking would pa.s.s unnoticed!"

"Oh, but, Max, he's such a nice . . ." I went blank for a moment, and then a shower of recollections fell on me. "That's what the victims have in common!" what the victims have in common!"

"The church! The priest priest."