Bloodless (Aloysius Pendergast #20)(68)

This time, it was Pendergast who remained silent.

Finally, the doctor shifted in his chair. “This person you mention. Is she…still alive?”

Pendergast bowed his head in assent.

Coldmoon could see a succession of conflicting emotions cross the doctor’s face before he again mastered himself.

“And where might she be?”

At this, Pendergast smiled. “How about that exchange of information?”

After a long silence, the doctor said: “I made a promise.”

Pendergast rose. “Well then, I fear we have nothing more to speak about. Agent Coldmoon? Let us go.”

“Hold on!”

Pendergast paused and turned. In a softer, kinder voice, he said, “Doctor, I truly appreciate the promise you made. But we’re speaking of events that happened half a century ago. You—and the lady—are, quite frankly, nearing the close of life. If there’s any hope of your ever learning who she is now, or where she is—this is it.”

The doctor said, “You first.”

Pendergast gazed at him steadily, then said: “She owns a hotel in Savannah, Georgia. And she has no possession she treasures more than the book you gave her.”

At this the doctor flushed and passed a trembling hand over his white hair.

Pendergast quoted, “To me, you’ll always be ‘that great social nomad, who prowls on the confines of a docile, frightened order.’”

The effect of this was even more profound. The doctor struggled to maintain his composure. “She showed it to you?”

“Not intentionally.” Then, very gently, Pendergast said, “And now, Doctor, it’s your turn.”

The doctor removed a cotton handkerchief, mopped his face and tucked it back into his pocket.

“I found her by the side of the lake. She had had…a terrible fall.”

“You saved her life?”

He nodded. “I took her in, fixed her up, nursed her back to health.”

“What kind of injury?”

“A compound displaced fracture of the right femur.”

“The lady still has a limp.”

“I fixed her up as well as anyone could under the, ah, circumstances.”

“You were in love with her?”

Coming out of the blue, this question surprised Coldmoon almost as much as it did the doctor. But it had the desired effect; on the heels of a sustained assault, the old man’s defenses cracked under this unexpected blow. He sank back in his chair with an almost indistinct nod. “We loved each other. Very much.”

“But she left. Why?”

He shook his head.

“Let me help you: She was in trouble, she was an outlaw, she had committed a serious crime. To protect you and herself, she had to leave, establish a new identity. And so she disappeared from your life.”

He nodded.

“What was her crime?”

A long silence ensued. “She’d stolen something.”

“It must have been quite valuable.”

“I suppose. But the big crime was not stealing it, but how she stole it.”

“What was it?”

“Some sort of computer, or device, in a briefcase. She said it was going to make her fortune.”

“What did it do?”

“She never explained, except in veiled hints. Something about time.”

“Time?”

“She made an odd comment about the flow of time. That’s all I know.”

“How did she steal this item?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the question I’m not going to answer—the one at the heart of my promise. If I told you, the FBI would come down on both of us like a ton of bricks. We’d go to prison for sure.”

Pendergast sighed. “In that case, I have nothing further to ask.” And he signaled to Coldmoon that it was time to leave.

“Hold on!” the doctor said again as Pendergast prepared to rise. “You haven’t told me her new name.”

Pendergast looked at him. “And you haven’t told me her old one.”

The man frowned, sitting up again, pugnacity flaring in his rheumy eyes.

“Now it’s your turn to go first,” said Pendergast.

Quincy’s white knuckles gripped his chair. Coldmoon could see him struggling. “Alicia Rime,” he finally said.

“Her name now is Felicity Winthrop Frost. The hotel she owns in Savannah is called the Chandler House. An excellent establishment. And she is a most formidable woman, if a bit frail—and quite lonely.”

After a moment, Quincy nodded. “No doubt.”

Pendergast rose, followed by Coldmoon. He began to turn toward the door. Then he stopped. “One other thing,” he said. “Is it possible she used this mysterious instrument you mentioned to pay off your mortgage and cover your medical school tuition?”

“I’ve got no idea,” Quincy said. “I’ve said too much already. I think it’s time for you to leave—right now.”

That was it. Coldmoon followed Pendergast out of the farmhouse, down the steps, and back to the waiting vehicle. And the whole time, Dr. Quincy stood on the steps in his long underwear, silent and motionless, a look of infinite sorrow on his lined face.