Dead Man s Hand Page 0,145

elevator doors opened. Tach nodded slowly to Jay, turned, and entered the car.

Chapter 19

1:00 P.M.

Brennan heard the outer door to the suite open, tired voices, then the door close. He stood up, framed in the doorway leading into the bedroom portion of the suite, gun in hand. Tachyon, Ackroyd, and Worchester stood clumped together, astonishment on their faces as they saw Brennan. "Daniel! What are you doing here?"

Brennan knew that Tachyon had lost a hand, but that knowledge didn't prepare him for the pale, drawn, bedraggled figure before him. Tachyon had obviously been through a lot the past week, but, Brennan thought grimly, it wasn't quite over yet.

"Tracking Chrysalis's killer," Brennan said grimly. Tachyon's bloodshot eyes went wide with astonishment. "Surely-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ackroyd interrupted. He looked a little worse for wear, himself. His face was puffy and bruised and he seemed to be favoring one side.

Brennan shook his head and gestured with his gun. "Sit on the bed," he said in a cold voice, "and I'll tell you a story about a murder."

Hiram hung back for a moment, then did as Brennan ordered. Ackroyd sat down next to Worchester and kept his hands carefully in his lap.

"Oh, God," Hiram moaned. "Will this never end?"

"Let's give him a chance," Tachyon said.

"Why?" Ackroyd asked truculently.

"Because I know who killed Chrysalis," Brennan said softly.

Ackroyd frowned. "It was Malice's joker goon. Chrysalis had discovered him-"

"No, it wasn't." Brennan took a deep breath so that he could speak in a calm, even voice. "I was Chrysalis's lover," he said. "Perhaps even her friend. That alone might have brought me back to track down her killer. But the murderer added insult to that injury. He tried to frame me for her death." He stared unblinkingly at Ackroyd. "Even you admit that was a clumsy job."

Ackroyd nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. It had me going for a while, but it didn't take me long to realize it was a setup." Brennan nodded, switched his gaze to Tachyon. " I had no idea why Chrysalis had been killed. Any number of things could have triggered the murder. I couldn't isolate the motive, so I concentrated on finding an ace strong enough to crush Chrysalis. But that, too, proved to be a blind alley, because Chrysalis wasn't killed by an ace with super strength."

"What?" Ackroyd said. "That's ridiculous."

Brennan shook his head. "I knew something was wrong at the crime scene when I first saw it, but it took me a while to figure it out. There was very little blood in Chrysalis's office. She'd been killed before being pulped. Her heart had stopped pumping so there was no blood sprayed on the walls, desk, or floor."

Tachyon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Someone was covering his tracks again, pretending that Chrysalis had been battered to death by an ace with extraordinary strength. But who?" Brennan shook his head. "The list of suspects had again become endless, but I thought I could narrow it down by questioning Sascha. He was a telepath, he'd been on the murder scene, and he was acting peculiar. I figured he knew more than he was admitting. He'd disappeared, but I thought I could track him down."

"You couldn't have found him," Ackroyd said. "He was here in Atlanta."

"That's right," Brennan agreed. "But during the investigation I found out that he was in thrall to a mysterious master, someone called Ti Malice. Then I found Malice's apartment, and in the apartment was a closet, and in the closet was a coat, and in the coat were these." He carefully reached into his hip pocket with his broken arm and took out a deck of playing cards. They were ornate, but worn and tattered and of great age and apparent delicacy.

"So what?" Ackroyd asked with a frown.

"These are the cards," Brennan explained, "that Chrysalis played solitaire with, the deck from which the murderer took the ace of spades to frame me. The deck he then absentmindedly put in his coat pocket and took with him after he left her office. Isn't that right, Worchester?" Brennan stared grimly at the huge ace. Hiram tried to speak, but no words would come out. He stuttered, sputtered, and fingered the angry sore on the side of his neck, his face pale and beaded with sweat, his hands trembling.

Brennan dropped the cards on the floor and took from his jacket pocket the ace of spades that Chrysalis had left him in her will. He scaled it at Hiram. The card