Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [92]
“Well, Charlie and Johnny would’ve gobbled up any drink we put in front of them,” Lucky said. “But Danny was real careful about his diet. So whether or not that’ll work will probably depend on the target.”
“It will also depend on learning more,” Max said. “Without sufficient information, such intervention could easily endanger the next victim more than help him.”
“Yeah, my grandma—the strega—once accidentally gave someone a hernia when trying to get him to fall in love with her client.” Lucky shook his head. “Potions and spells can be tricky.”
“Indeed,” Max said.
“Whether or not you can protect the next victim also depends on our knowing who it is,” I said. “Which we don’t. Maybe there’s another doppelgangster wandering around out there right now, and we just haven’t heard about it yet—or heard about the resultant death.”
“I got my ear to the ground,” Lucky said, tapping his cell phone. “I’ll know if any more Gambello duplicates turn up at least.”
“And our ultimate objective, of course,” Max said, “is to unmask and stop our adversary. If the deadly effect of the curse can be eliminated or reduced, the sorcerer creating these entities would have to regroup and adapt. And that might give us time to find and expose him.”
Looking at the problem from another angle, I said to Lucky, “So with Danny dead, too, do you see any link among the victims yet? Something they all had in common?”
“The only thing I can think of is that plenty of guys would’ve lined up around the block to whack any one of them.” Lucky added, “If you think about it, it’s amazing that Johnny lived this long.”
“So we have no way of determining who the next victim might be,” Max concluded.
“Each of these deaths has brought the city one step closer to a Corvino-Gambello war,” I said. “Who would want that? Who would be crazy enough to engineer something that’s so destructive and so potentially dangerous for innocent bystanders?”
Lucky shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling as he thought about it.
Max said to me, “While our friend ponders how and why the victims are being chosen, you and I should return to researching how they might be created or disempowered.”
With a weary nod of agreement, I opened another book and said, “I’ll leave the Middle High German tomes to you, Max.”
We continued reading while Lucky continued talking a lot on his cell phone, trying to ward off a mob war. By that night, I knew more about doubles, apparitions, and bilocates than I had ever dreamed of learning or had any desire to know. And, as fatigue eventually made the small print of old books blur before my eyes, I didn’t feel my newfound knowledge had accomplished anything more than giving me a splitting headache.
At a certain point, Max suddenly said, “Good heavens! How careless of me.”
I was too punchy by then to take any interest as he rose from his seat and walked quickly to the back of the shop. I heard the cellar door open, and I assumed he was going down to his laboratory.
My eyes drifted shut, my head drooped, and I dozed for a few minutes while Lucky sat nearby talking on his cell phone. After a while, something cold and wet poked my cheek. Startled, I opened my eyes. Nelli’s immense face was close to mine. She panted and stared at me meaningfully.
“Huh?” I pushed her away, wondering why Max couldn’t have conjured a familiar with better breath.
I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see that it was only ten o’clock. It felt later. Much later. Time drags when you’re reading about fetches and Bardo-bodies.
Nelli trotted to the front of the shop. I heard her whining faintly by the door.
“I think she wants her walk,” I said wearily.
“I’ll do it,” Lucky said as he pocketed his cell phone. “You look beat. Maybe you should go home and get some shut-eye.”
“Maybe you should, too.”
“Nah, I’m waitin’ for another call from the boss.” The old hit man shrugged. “Might as well keep