Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [120]
“And this phone was on his doppelgangster when it came here to confront us,” I said.
“God’s teeth!” Max said. “So that’s how it’s being done.”
“How it’s . . . Max!” I grabbed his arm. “This means something? You know what’s going on now?”
“This is very creative,” he said, clearly impressed. “I’ve been reading about doppelgängerism for days without coming across any suggestion whatsoever of such a thing! We are dealing with a most innovative and resourceful individual!” He shook his head, “You know, it’s really quite a shame that he uses his talents for Evil.”
“He, who, Max?”
“Whoever imbued this phone with mystical energy to create a perfect double of the detective—a duplicate of the man at the very moment that this object was taken from him.”
“I don’t under . . . Imbued this ph . . . Wait. You’re saying that’s how it’s done?”
Max nodded slowly, thinking aloud. “He acquires a token from the victim. Something he associates with him—or her. Something the victim possessed at the moment of existence which is re-created within the perfect double.”
“He acquires?” I said. “You mean he steals, right? Because Lopez didn’t give someone his phone. He just couldn’t find it.”
“Yes. Stealing the tokens seems most likely.”
“Stealing . . . Oh, my God, that’s why that dress!” I said. “I left my black wrap—the little see-through jacket that went with my dress—at the church the evening that we met Johnny’s doppelgangster. I forgot it when we left. So I went back to the sit-down early the next night to get it. But it wasn’t in the crypt, and it wasn’t in the lost-and-found box . . .”
“It was stolen!” Max looked excited.
“The Widow Giacalona was there when I was asking for it. She said that a number of things had been stolen at church lately! She blamed young thugs and goombata . . . but then I got duplicated.”
“We must find out what was taken from the widow,” he said, heading for the back of the shop.
“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 basement? 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 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. It’s a sacred symbol! And that stronzo wouldn’t give it back to me.”
“So you kicked him down the stairs.”
“Yes,” 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.”
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?