residence that sat at a discreet distance from the road. He used an infrared camera filched by Alex from the photo department to snap license plates. He’d discovered the address written in tiny letters at the bottom of his sales receipt from Violette.
It didn’t seem likely to be a club, so it was probably a private party of some kind. He figured he could take a chance andpretend to be a guest. If only he’d worn his tuxedo and a black feathered mask, he would have fit in.
He pulled through the gates, swung around past the surprised valets, and left the car facing the gates. When he rang the bell, the door swung open, and he faced a tall, gaunt man with a swirl of dark hair artfully arranged on the top of his head.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m at the right place,” Danny said. The house was so quiet that except for the cars parked outside, he would have sworn no one but this ghoul was home. “I believe there’s a party tonight.”
The ghoul’s left eye twitched. “I beg your pardon?”
“A party.” Danny spoke a little louder. His voice seemed to bounce off the walls. Jesus, this place was like some kind of museum. Victorian furniture. Good paintings on the walls of Italian landscapes and naked children playing in the water. It smelled of lemon polish, bleach, and air freshener that masked another odor, something vaguely unpleasant like rotting meat. Mouse in the floorboards? Body in the walls?
“I’m sorry, sir, but this party tonight is black tie and by invitation only. You are neither invited nor properly dressed.”
“How do you know?” Danny pulled out Michael’s black-and-white card. “I am a member.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But that card will not grant you access to this particular event. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave at once.”
Danny weighed the option of trying to find the party guests and getting thrown out. Not worth it. He already had license plates. At least he could get an idea who attended this soirée. He held up his hands. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
As he was driving home, it occurred to Danny that he should have stayed parked across the street, but it was too late now. He had no doubt the ghoul was already processing his license plate.
11
I n the morning, Danny threw his research in a satchel along with the camera. He figured he could work out of the Penn Law Library for a few hours after he returned the camera. Beowulf lay by the door, his head between his paws, and watched him with his sad eyes. Had he always done that or had Conor taught it to him? The sad eyes, the silent plea for more dad time.
“I wish I knew his secret,” Beth once had said.
“What secret is that?”
“How to get your attention.”
“You always have my attention, Beth.”
She had slumped a little. “I used to.”
Danny had put his arms around her. He’d watched her try to blink away her tears before he gathered her against him. “The day you said yes to me was the happiest of my life. I’ve never regretted it. Maybe you have, but not me.”
“I don’t regret it,” she’d said against his chest. “I miss us. I miss the way we were.”
“We’ll get it back,” he’d said. And they had, to a point. Some weeks were good, especially when her workload eased, and he would see his Beth, sunlit and smiling. She’d spend hours with Conor, reading and playing with puzzles. Later they would make love like they had in the early days.
But those other weeks, when the stress had worn her down, Beth’s temper would turn stormy, and Conor quickly learned to pack up his toys and head to his room when she pulled into the driveway. Danny knew she hated sitting home; he wanted her to go back to work, but Beth had begun to believe he worked against her with Conor, as if parenting was a competition to be won.
Danny looked at Beowulf and grabbed his leash. “Come on, you win. We’ll go to the park, but not for long. I have work to do
It didn’t seem likely to be a club, so it was probably a private party of some kind. He figured he could take a chance andpretend to be a guest. If only he’d worn his tuxedo and a black feathered mask, he would have fit in.
He pulled through the gates, swung around past the surprised valets, and left the car facing the gates. When he rang the bell, the door swung open, and he faced a tall, gaunt man with a swirl of dark hair artfully arranged on the top of his head.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m at the right place,” Danny said. The house was so quiet that except for the cars parked outside, he would have sworn no one but this ghoul was home. “I believe there’s a party tonight.”
The ghoul’s left eye twitched. “I beg your pardon?”
“A party.” Danny spoke a little louder. His voice seemed to bounce off the walls. Jesus, this place was like some kind of museum. Victorian furniture. Good paintings on the walls of Italian landscapes and naked children playing in the water. It smelled of lemon polish, bleach, and air freshener that masked another odor, something vaguely unpleasant like rotting meat. Mouse in the floorboards? Body in the walls?
“I’m sorry, sir, but this party tonight is black tie and by invitation only. You are neither invited nor properly dressed.”
“How do you know?” Danny pulled out Michael’s black-and-white card. “I am a member.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But that card will not grant you access to this particular event. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave at once.”
Danny weighed the option of trying to find the party guests and getting thrown out. Not worth it. He already had license plates. At least he could get an idea who attended this soirée. He held up his hands. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
As he was driving home, it occurred to Danny that he should have stayed parked across the street, but it was too late now. He had no doubt the ghoul was already processing his license plate.
11
I n the morning, Danny threw his research in a satchel along with the camera. He figured he could work out of the Penn Law Library for a few hours after he returned the camera. Beowulf lay by the door, his head between his paws, and watched him with his sad eyes. Had he always done that or had Conor taught it to him? The sad eyes, the silent plea for more dad time.
“I wish I knew his secret,” Beth once had said.
“What secret is that?”
“How to get your attention.”
“You always have my attention, Beth.”
She had slumped a little. “I used to.”
Danny had put his arms around her. He’d watched her try to blink away her tears before he gathered her against him. “The day you said yes to me was the happiest of my life. I’ve never regretted it. Maybe you have, but not me.”
“I don’t regret it,” she’d said against his chest. “I miss us. I miss the way we were.”
“We’ll get it back,” he’d said. And they had, to a point. Some weeks were good, especially when her workload eased, and he would see his Beth, sunlit and smiling. She’d spend hours with Conor, reading and playing with puzzles. Later they would make love like they had in the early days.
But those other weeks, when the stress had worn her down, Beth’s temper would turn stormy, and Conor quickly learned to pack up his toys and head to his room when she pulled into the driveway. Danny knew she hated sitting home; he wanted her to go back to work, but Beth had begun to believe he worked against her with Conor, as if parenting was a competition to be won.
Danny looked at Beowulf and grabbed his leash. “Come on, you win. We’ll go to the park, but not for long. I have work to do
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