“When she got that tattoo?”

Donovan shook his head. “You said it differently. You asked when she got that eagle drawn on her back.” He got up and pulled out his phone. He walked into the shadows of the trees and called Albert.

“Fucksake. I know you know how late it is, Donovan,” Albert answered. He sounded out of breath, rather than like someone who was just woken up.

“The wife let you have some ass tonight?”

“What do you want?”

“Frankie just said something interesting.”

“What the fuck do I care what Frankie-fucking-Saunders says? And I thought you were doing this public relations bimbo?”

Donovan blinked. “Take it easy...” he admonished his old partner. “She just asked when Justine Lavoie had an eagle drawn on her back.” He heard the rustling of sheets and knew Albert had sat bolt upright. “She's from Québec as well.”

“Huh...” Albert muttered. “Interesting. I'll look into it in the morning.”

“Yeah, I thought it was an interesting play of words. And she's definitely loony.”

“I'll look into it in the morning. Right now I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Donovan grinned unseen. He recognized where that phrase came from and how it had slipped into Albert's vocabulary. “I'll let you get back to crushing your wife under your big belly.”

“Donovan...”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you.”

Donovan laughed and wished Albert a good night.

Frankie was still on the bench when he came back. He sat down next to her and smiled. In a sudden impulse, he kissed her. “Thank you.”

She was taken aback and left gasping for air. She wanted to lean into him and kiss him back, but just then someone crawled toward Donovan.

Justine Lavoie had noticed him and she rambled on about wanting to thank him for his services as she crawled toward him. She sat down on her knees before him and tried to get to his zipper.

“What the fuck?” Donovan pulled away and sat up on the back of the bench. Naomh Walsh came to the rescue. She pulled the pop star to her feet and began marching her away. It was as she walked away that Naomh noted that the man Justine had been after was Donovan. “Oh, hi,” she greeted him feebly.

“Hi,” Donovan replied. “Thanks for that.”

“Welcome.” She sounded shy. She looked away. Just then her husband came out through the doors. Donovan sank back onto the bench. He watched her as she went back to her husband.

A hand touched his knee. “That freebie is still on offer.”

 

Chapter Eleven

Donovan woke up in the middle of the night. There was a scream in the house. A prolonged scream. He immediately felt around the bed. He sighed when his hand rested on Frankie Saunders's breast. He reached into the nightstand and pulled out his old Sig Sauer nine millimeter. He checked the magazine and threw back the sheets. He looked around on the floor for a moment, looking for his pants. He put his boxers back on and quietly walked to the door. There was no sound now. He opened the door a crack and looked out. There was no one there.

He went back to the bed and took his phone from the nightstand.

“Again? Fuck off!” Albert's sleepy voice answered.

“There was a scream. Somewhere in the house.”

“Not Frankie Saunders pretending to be in ecstasy? Or was it that Walsh woman?”

“Serious. Get the fuck over here.”

“Still have your gun?”

“Yeah. We'll be fine, but I'm not moving away from here.”

“Yeah, stay in the bedroom. I assume that's where you are.” There was a moment of silence on the line. “Anyone there with you?”

“Frankie.”

“Keep her safe. We're lucky these murders have escaped the press so far. Frankie Saunders being mutilated by a lunatic serial killer would really make the shit hit the fan. And I doubt your business would benefit from it. I'll be over in a few.”

The line went dead. Albert must be getting dressed.

Donovan sat down on the bed and shook Frankie's shoulder. She shot awake. “What...?” she asked him sleepily. Donovan placed a finger on her lips. “There's someone in the house. I've got help coming.”

She lay back in the bed and looked at him. Her hands ran over the front of his boxers. He shook his head, lifting the gun. “I don't know what's going on out there, best keep alert.”

Donovan watched the clock's hands move a very slow half an hour before Albert called to gain access to the property. He opened the gate with his phone and a few minutes later Albert ran up the stairs. “You alright?” he demanded, popping his head into the bedroom on the top floor. “Miss Saunders.”

Frankie gave him a polite nod.

“You stay here; I have a few people searching the house.”

He disappeared, but showed up again almost immediately. “Put some damned clothes on and follow me.”

It was the housekeeper, Miss Graeme. Her blood stained the white carpet on the floor of her own parlor. The butler had been off for the night and had spent the night with his cousins in the Bronx. There had been no one else in the house. The cook was gone for the evening and of course, Donovan and Frankie had been upstairs.

Albert sighed and rubbed his face. “What time is it?”

Donovan looked at the clock. “Four o'clock.”

Albert yawned. “You think they're up on the East Coast?”

“Why?” Donovan asked him.

“Going to check up on your theory.”

Albert spent the next half hour on the phone. He switched between English and pidgin French. When he was done, he said nothing and then went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. Another half hour passed in silence as he meditatively drank his coffee. Donovan and Frankie sat down together on a couch in the living room. Then Albert's phone rang again and he answered it in poor French. He listened carefully for a minute and then thanked the person on the other end of the line and hung up. “That was the RCMP in Québec. A girl, by the name of Aoibhe Lang, Alpha Oscar India Bravo Hotel Echo, disappeared from that boarding school. Weird thing that family has with Gaelic names. But she disappeared and a family named L'Aigle in rural Québec reported fishing a girl from the St. Lawrence River. She had no memory and no ID. Only knew her first name. Family took the girl in. After two years, she ran away again and about that time a girl that looked exactly like her showed up calling herself Justine Aoibhe Maria Lavoie in Montréal. Disney Corp signed the girl after one of their talent scouts saw her performing in a bar in the city.”

“L'Aigle...” Donovan muttered. “The Eagle...”

Albert nodded. “It fits. Think we might have to go talk to Miss Lavoie.”

Justine Lavoie had not returned home. Naomh Walsh was missing too. Albert talked to her husband, but he had not seen her since the party. She had kissed him goodbye before he drove off in his car and then she had gotten into the limousine with Justine Lavoie. The security man had not seen the limousine return to the penthouse, nor had the neighbors.

“Where the hell could she be?” Donovan asked Albert. “And what the hell happened to Naomh?”

Albert shrugged and walked along the pavement to Toby’s, the coffee shop he liked on N 6th Street. “No idea. And no idea. I just know I need a cup of coffee after you woke me twice during the night.”

“Once. The first time you were crushing your wife.”

“Not true,” Albert grinned. “She was on top.”

“Right...” Donovan did not want to go any deeper into the subject. “So what do we do?”

“We have coffee and then we look at where they might have gone. And if Justine Lavoie is the missing Lang sister, we still don't have the answer to our questions. It might explain the eagle thing, but nothing else. Like what set her off.”

“I don't know.”

Albert ordered his coffee and paid. He looked pensive and hardly acknowledged the cashier as he did so. “You know what I'm thinking. This behavior of hers, just doing drugs would not do that. The extreme sex thing and all. Got an explanation for that?”