The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [123]
The process of lifting the prints didn’t take long. The buttons being black, Marcus used a camel’s-hair paintbrush to dust them with some fine, grey-white aluminum powder, which he then blew away, revealing a clear set of waving lines what he held up against a photograph of the lead pipe they’d found in Central Park for comparison. Nodding to the Doctor, Marcus said only, “It’s a match,” at which point Kat, figuring that was her cue, got to her feet and marched up to the Doctor.
“We all square?” she said to him, a little frantically.
The Doctor—who, I could see, was worried by both Kat’s physical state and her attitude—attempted to be cordial. “We are indeed all square, Miss Devlin. Can we offer you anything by way of thanks? Some coffee, or tea, perhaps—”
“My money and my ticket,” Kat said, holding out a hand. Then she thought to add, “Thank you very much, sir.” Looking my way, she narrowed her eyes and spat out, “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, or make anybody uncomfortable.”
The Doctor glanced from her to me and back again. I think he was on the verge of saying something more, but finally he just nodded and took an envelope from his breast pocket. “Three hundred dollars in cash,” he said with a smile, “and one ticket to San Francisco. Valid at any time during the next six months. Oh,” he added, as Kat near grabbed the envelope, “and the ticket is for a first-class compartment. To show our appreciation.”
That melted her a bit, toward him if not me. “That’s—very decent of you, sir. Thank you.” She glanced at the envelope and smiled just a little. “I ain’t never traveled first class. My papa, he used to say—” Seeming to catch herself, she went rigid again. “I’ll be on my way now, sir. If that’s all.”
The Doctor nodded. “I’m sorry you can’t stay.” She’d just turned when he added, “Miss Devlin—” He took a business card from another pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. “I operate a—school, of sorts, downtown. For young people who want or need to make a change in their lives. Here is the address and the telephone number. Should you ever find yourself in New York again and be interested in such—assistance, please do not hesitate to telephone or stop by.”
Kat looked at the card, and her face went wicked again; but she forced herself to smile. “Yeah. I heard about your place, Doctor.” She looked up at him. “I heard you ain’t runnin’ it no more, is what I heard.”
At that I stepped in fast. “Kat, come on,” I said, pushing her toward the door.
“So who’s to say, Doctor,” she called over her shoulder, “which one of us needs the—assistance?”
I got her wriggling form back into the elevator, slammed the door shut, and closed the grate with a bang. Fairly tearing the control handle off, I started us back down. “You had no call to talk that way,” I said through my teeth. “He was only tryin’ to help, dammit all, Kat. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you ever let anybody help?”
“I don’t want nobody’s help!” she hollered back. “I want to take care of myself, if that’s all right with you!”
“Yeah? Well, you’re doin’ a hell of a job!”
“Maybe you don’t think so—but I ain’t no servant, and I ain’t yet fallen into the river dead stinkin’ drunk! So just leave me alone, can