The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [101]
“Kat,” I said slowly, considering the thing, “how long you been spending time at the Dusters’ joint?”
She sat down in the big easy chair across from me, holding her arms into her like she was cold and then shrugging as she sipped at her coffee. “Dunno—maybe a month or so. First met Ding Dong about then, anyways.”
“You know pretty much who comes in and outta there, then, I guess, right?”
She shrugged again. “The regulars, sure. But you know that place, Stevie, they got swells from all over town slummin’ every night. Half the city’s been through there at some point or other.”
“But the regulars—you would recognize them?”
“Probably. Why do you wanna know?” She got up and moved over to me. “What’s that look on your face, Stevie? You’re actin’ so odd all of a sudden.”
I just stared at the carpet for a few seconds, then grabbed her hand. “Come on with me.”
Making for the staircase, I half dragged Kat up to the Doctor’s office. The drapes were still drawn in the dark-paneled room, and it was hard to make anything out clearly. I tripped a couple of times on my way to the window, and when I gave the drapery cord a good tug I saw that it was still more piles of books what had waylaid me: the study was an even bigger mess than it’d been the previous week.
Kat glanced around, frowning and wiping at her nose. “This room don’t do much for me,” she said, mystified and put off. “What’s he want with so many damned books, anyway?”
I didn’t answer; I was too busy going through papers on the Doctor’s desk, looking for something, hoping that the detective sergeants had left at least one copy—
I found it lying underneath a thick book by Dr. Krafft-Ebing: one of the photographed copies of the sketch that Miss Beaux had done of Nurse Hunter.
Moving it closer to the light that came in through the sheer white curtains that still covered the windows, I signaled to Kat that she should join me.
“You ever seen this lady?” I asked, showing her the picture.
Her face filled with recognition right away. “Sure,” she said.
“That’s Libby.”
“Libby?”
“Libby Hatch. One of Goo Goo’s molls,” she went on, referring to Goo Goo Knox, the leader of the Dusters. Kat’s face twisted up in that way it did when she didn’t understand something, like her nose’d been attached to a drill bit. “What the hell’s your doctor pal doin’ with a picture of Libby? A good one, too.”
“Libby Hatch,” I said quietly, looking out the window for a few seconds—enough time to realize that, as Miss Howard had said the day before, this whole thing was a lot more complicated than it’d originally looked.
Again I grabbed Kat’s hand. “Come on!”
She flew along behind me like a rag doll as I ran back for the door, then spun round again and headed back to the desk, slapping open a leather-bound book of addresses and telephone numbers what the Doctor kept on it. “Stevie!” Kat said. “Do you think you could quit yanking me around like that? I ain’t exactly feeling athletic, you know!”
“Sorry,” I said, opening the book to the “I” section with one hand, finding a number, and then charging back to the door with Kat still in tow.
“Ow!” she cried. “Stevie, are you listening to me at all?”
I didn’t answer as we shot back down to the kitchen, then through to the pantry. Finally letting go of Kat’s hand, I grabbed hold of the telephone’s receiver and mouthpiece. In a couple of seconds I had an operator on the line, and I gave her the number of the detective sergeants’ house, or rather, their parents’ house, what was located down on Second Street between First and Second Avenues, next to the old Marble Cemetery and not far from two or three synagogues.
The ‘phone on the other end rang, and a woman’s voice answered, yelling into the thing the way people who still considered it a fantastic invention were like to do.
“Hallo?” the woman said, through a thick accent. “Who ist da?”
“Yes,” I answered, “I’d like to speak to one of the detective sergeants, please.”
Kat took a step back, looking worried. “Stevie—you ain’t callin’ the cops on me?” As usual, her