Hell Is Too Crowded - Jack Higgins [40]
The old woman sat opposite him, several books at her elbow, a pad of blank paper before her. She picked up a pencil. "Give me your date of birth, the place and the exact time. The time is most important, so please be accurate."
He told her and looked over her shoulder into the shadows crowding out of the corners, beating against the pool of light thrown out by the lamp. He wondered what he was going to say next, but decided to wait until she gave him an opening.
She consulted several books, making quick notes on the pad and finally grunted. "Do you believe in astrology, young man?"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he said.
She nodded. "You are ambidextrous?"
It was more a statement of fact than a question and he said in some surprise, "Yes, that's right. How did you know?"
"Many of those born under the sign of Scorpio are," she said and consulted her notes. "Life for you is often a battleground."
"You can say that again," Brady told her.
She nodded calmly. "Mars, Sun and Neptune in conjunction on the mid-heaven will result in a certain sharpness of tongue and temper. Your map shows signs of a dangerous, almost explosive, tendency to violence in your character. You tend to regard everyone you meet with suspicion. You are your own worst enemy."
Brady sat back in his chair and harsh laughter erupted from his mouth. "I think that's bloody marvellous."
The old woman looked across at him, eyes glinting in the lamplight. "You appear to find something humorous in what I have just said, young man."
"And that's the understatement of the age," Brady replied.
She carefully piled her books one on top of the other and gathered her papers. "Who did you say recommended me to you?"
"I didn't," Brady said, "But as a matter of fact, it was your daughter, Jane Gordon."
"Indeed?" the old woman frowned. "We shall see. I'm expecting her to arrive at any moment."
"You'll have to wait a long time, Mrs. Gordon," he said calmly. "She's dead."
Her face seemed to wither before his very eyes, to wrinkle into a yellowing sheet of parchment. Her hand went up to her mouth and she coughed convulsively and then she started to choke horribly.
Brady moved round to her side and noticed that she was tugging at the handle of a drawer with one hand. He jerked it open and found a small glass phial of white tablets. There was water on the sideboard. He filled a glass quickly and brought it back to her and she forced two of the tablets into her mouth and washed them down.
After a moment, she sighed and a dry sob bubbled up from her throat. "My heart," she said. "Must be careful about sudden shocks."
"I'm sorry," he said. "It isn't the sort of news one can wrap up in pretty paper with a pink ribbon, not the way it happened."
The strange thing was that she appeared to accept the fact that he was telling the truth without question. "Who killed her?"
"A man called Haras," Brady said. "Anton Haras. Do you know him?"
"I know him," she said, nodding her head, the black eyes staring into the darkness. "I know him." She turned and looked straight at him. "Who are you, young man?"
"Matthew Brady," he said simply.
"Ah, yes," she said softly. "I think I knew that you would come, a long time ago."
"You were there in the house that night, weren't you?" he said. "Who was the man with your daughter?"
"Miklos Davos," she said in a whisper.
Brady frowned. "You mean the oil-king?"
She nodded. "Some people say he is the richest man in the world, Mr. Brady. I only know that he is the most evil."
"Tell me what happened that night," Brady said.
Remembering, her voice seemed to be on another plane. "My daughter was engaged in a shameful trade, Mr. Brady. She was a Madame, a brothelkeeper, call it what you will. She had much property in her name, most of which really belonged to Davos."
"Was she in love with him?"
"Love?" The old woman laughed harshly. "She was completely under his influence. For her, he could do no wrong. For his sake, she produced a succession of young women to satisfy his morbid