The Mephisto Club Read Free

her hand poised to push open the door. “I’ve missed them, too. Maybe that’s why we shouldn’t have them anymore.”
    “We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.”
    “Not yet,” she said softly, her gaze not on him, but on the heavy carved door, which stood between her and escape.
    “Maura, let’s not leave it like this between us. There’s no reason we can’t maintain some sort of—” He stopped.
    Her cell phone was ringing.
    She fished it out of her purse. At this hour, a ringing phone could not mean anything good. As she answered the call, she felt Daniel’s eyes on her, felt her own jittery reaction to his gaze.
    “Dr. Isles,” she said, her voice unnaturally cool.
    “Merry Christmas,” said Detective Jane Rizzoli. “I’m kind of surprised you’re not at home right now. I tried calling there first.”
    “I came to midnight Mass.”
    “Geez, it’s already one A.M. Isn’t it over yet?”
    “Yes, Jane. It’s over, and I’m about to leave,” said Maura, in a tone of voice that cut off any more queries. “What have you got for me?” she asked. Because she already knew that this call was not a simple hello, but a summons.
    “Address is two-ten Prescott Street, East Boston. A private residence. Frost and I got here about a half hour ago.”
    “Details?”
    “We’re looking at one vic, a young woman.”
    “Homicide?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
    “You’ll see when you get here.”
    She disconnected and found Daniel still watching her. But the moment for taking risks, for saying things they both might come to regret, had passed. Death had intervened.
    “You have to go to work?”
    “I’m covering tonight.” She slipped the phone back into her purse. “Since I don’t have any family in town, I volunteered.”
    “On this of all nights?”
    “The fact that it’s Christmas doesn’t make much difference to me.”
    She buttoned up her coat collar and walked out of the building, into the night. He followed her outside, and as she tramped through freshly fallen snow to her car, he stood watching her from the steps, his white vestments flapping in the wind. Glancing back, she saw him raise his hand in a good-bye wave.
    He was still waving as she drove away.

THREE
    The blue lights of three cruisers pulsed through a filigree of falling snow, announcing to all who approached: Something has happened here, something terrible. Maura felt her front bumper scrape against ice as she squeezed her Lexus up next to the snowbank, to make room for other vehicles to pass. At this hour, on Christmas Eve, the only vehicles likely to turn up on the narrow street would be, like hers, members of Death’s entourage. She took a moment to steel herself against the exhausting hours to come, her tired eyes mesmerized by all the flashing lights. Her limbs felt numb; her circulation turned to sludge.
Wake up,
she thought.
It’s time to go to work.
    She stepped out of the car and the sudden blast of cold air blew the sleep from her brain. She walked through freshly fallen powder that whispered away like white feathers before her boots. Although it was one-thirty, lights were burning in several of the modest homes along the street, and through a window decorated with holiday stencils of flying reindeer and candy canes, she saw the silhouette of a curious neighbor peering out from his warm house, at a night that was no longer silent or holy.
    “Hey, Dr. Isles?” called out a patrolman, an older cop whom she vaguely recognized. Clearly he knew exactly who she was. They all knew who she was. “How’d you get so lucky tonight, huh?”
    “I could ask the same of you, Officer.”
    “Guess we both drew the short straws.” He gave a laugh. “Merry goddamn Christmas.”
    “Is Detective Rizzoli inside?”
    “Yeah, she and Frost have been videotaping.” He pointed toward a residence where all the lights were shining, a boxy little house crammed into a row of tired older homes.