"So what am I supposed to do?" asked Janet. "I can't go to the police with a story like this. What do you suggest?"

  "Actually, I don't think you have too much to worry about," replied Taine. "As long as you keep a close watch on your son, I can't see how your ex-husband can do anything much. Maybe your father and his men can deal with him."

  The detective seemed genuinely concerned about her worries. He sighed, as if making a major decision. "I've got to stick around the office for the rest of the afternoon. A million things need my personal attention. However, if you like, I can stop by your father's place early this evening. I'd be glad to check out the security system there if it would make you feel any safer."

  "Would you, really?" said Janet, anxiously. "I'd be willing to pay any fee . . ."

  "No charge for this visit," said Taine, with a wave of one big hand. "Didn't Mrs. McConnell tell you I'm a sucker for blondes in trouble?"

  She blinked twice, wondering if her thoughts were that obvious.

  "She enjoys revealing my secrets," said Taine, laughing at her discomfort. "It's my one weakness."

  "You're a very special person," said Janet, meaning every word.

  Taine actually blushed at her praise. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it.

  "Why not come for dinner?" she continued, suddenly wanting her father to meet this very unusual detective. "Dad enjoys company and you could meet Tim as well."

  "I don't see why not," said Taine, grinning. "I try not to socialize during a case, but you're not a client. I eat alone much too often. Despite what you see on TV, most detectives don't know a lot of beautiful women."

  "I'll take that as a compliment," said Janet rising from her chair, her smile matching his.

  "I meant it," said Taine, also getting to his feet. "Beauty comes from the spirit as well as from the flesh. I meet too many self-centered people filled with hate in this line of work. Despite outward appearances, they are truly the ugly ones. Your concern about your son reflects in your every word. To me, that really makes you beautiful."

  "Wow," said Janet, swallowing hard. She giggled, feeling slightly giddy. "Wow again."

  "Not that you look so bad from a purely physical point of view, either," said Taine, with a slight shake of his head. "Whatever. No more compliments till dinner."

  "See you at six," said Janet.

  Walking to the elevator, she couldn't help smiling like a fool. The world suddenly seemed a lot brighter. She had almost forgotten the thrill a compliment brought. Once her father dealt with Roger and Tim was safe, maybe she would take life a little easier. Success beckoned, but she needed a personal life, too.

  Taine fascinated her. Janet couldn't deny the strong attraction she felt for the rugged detective. And he seemed equally interested in her. It wasn't until she was standing outside in the rain, waving for a taxi, that she realized Taine had never once mentioned the reason he was investigating the Black Lodge.

  20

  A minute after Janet Packard left his office, Taine's phone rang. The harsh jangling rudely brought his mind back to the real world. She was a very good-looking woman, and her mental abilities obviously matched her physical assets. Not many people could have tracked him down so quickly. She combined beauty and brains, a rare combination in any person. Her ex-husband, Taine decided, had to be one of the biggest jerks of all time to walk out on her.

  "Taine, here," he said, picking up the receiver from his desk.

  "It's me," said Jack Korshak on the other end of the line. "The boy reporter."

  "I was hoping you would call," said Taine. "You find anything juicy about our buddy—"

  "No names," interrupted Korshak before Taine could finish the sentence. "People tap phones these days."

  "Getting a bit paranoid, Jack?" asked Taine. Korshak normally scoffed at such possibilities. He didn't rattle easily.

  "It never hurts to be careful," said the reporter, his voice serious.

  "I spent most of the morning digging through our files. After that, I made a few phone calls. All the puzzle pieces fit together in a very nasty fashion. Our mutual friend plays quite rough when it comes to his personal life. Wait till you hear the statistics. You make any plans yet for dinner? Max Walker told me about this hamburger place on the Near North Side that serves the best onion rings in the city."

  "Sounds like heaven," said Taine, "but, believe it or not, I'm having dinner with a beautiful blonde."

  "Sid Taine, the legendary lone wolf, on a date?" asked Jack Korshak, his voice rising a note in amazement. "She wouldn't happen to be a client by any chance?"

  "Not at all," replied Taine, trying to sound insulted. "Actually, she's a blonde, with blue eyes, around one hundred fifteen pounds, five foot four or five, with a terrific figure."

  "Spare me the details," said Korshak, with a groan. "You detectives are all alike. You give everyone you meet the once-over while you're talking to them. You count the number of teeth she has?"

  "She's also quite bright," said Taine, cheerfully ignoring the question. "And she thinks I'm quite special."

  "Well, that kills the bright part right there," said Korshak. "Need I ask if she's richer than Croesus?"

  "From what I gather, she is rather well-off," said Taine.

  "You see that movie, Fatal Attraction?" asked Korshak.

  "No," said Taine. "Why do you ask?"

  "You wouldn't understand," said the reporter. "Anyway, take my advice. If she's single, marry her. If not, kill her husband, then marry her. A good lawyer will get you off easy."

  "We're only talking dinner here, Jack," said Taine, laughing. "I just met her this afternoon."

  "Big deal," said Korshak. "My brother dated his wife for three years before they finally got married. He's been miserable ever since. Give me love at first sight any time."

  "Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind.

  "Meanwhile, where'll you be later tonight? I want to learn what you found out."

  "Try Gibbons Lounge," said Korshak. "I like staring at all the young things who come there looking for action. Wednesday night is ladies night. Girls wearing miniskirts and high heels drink for free. Talk about bimbo city."

  "Delightful," said Taine. "I'll see you there."

  Still smiling, Taine hung up the phone. Korshak had a unique way with words.

  Taine checked the outer office. Mrs. McConnell had still not returned from her errand. Which suited him just fine. He returned to his office, locked the door, and got out his tarot deck. Time for another try at fortune-telling.

  Not surprisingly, the cards fell in the exact same pattern. Three passes yielded identical results. Four trumps predicted his fate, if he could only grasp their meaning.

  Destiny seemed self-explanatory. Originally, he assumed Evangeline Caldwell was the mysterious woman. Now Janet clouded the picture. A handful of secrets lurked behind the screen of hidden wisdom. Of all the trumps, death promised an end. But only the cards knew who was scheduled to encounter "La Mort."

  His phone rang again. Swiftly, he bundled the cards together and dropped the deck into his desk. Only then did he grab the receiver.

  "Taine here."

  "Why did you visit my husband this afternoon?" demanded an angry Evangeline Caldwell. "I told you to stay away from him."

  "I thought you were going to call tonight," said Taine, his voice cool and calm.

  "The hell with tonight," said Evangeline, venom dripping from her every word. "I want an explanation of your conduct right now."

  "According to my recollection of our conversation, you never once told me not to interview your spouse. Besides, your name wasn't mentioned during the entire conversation." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Is it true your nickname is Angel?"

  "He's suspicious all the same," Evangeline answered, still angry. "He warned me not to leave the house alone. The fat fool mumbled something about a mad killer on the loose, with both of us on his list. And what does my nickname have to do with this case?"

  "Maybe your husband cares for you more than you realize," said Taine. "Have you listened to the news this afternoon?"

  "Victor cares only for himself," said Angel, without a tremor of doubt in her voice. "To him, I'm just a trophy who walks and talks."

  "I'm working on your case right now," said Taine. "By tonight I should know pretty much where we stand. Do you want to call me then?"

  "I'll try," she replied. "If I can break away for a few minutes. Victor told me he plans to stay at home with all the doors and windows locked and a bunch of security guards stationed everywhere. It sounds so cozy."

  "Sarcasm gives you ulcers," said Taine as the line clicked dead.

  Idly, he wondered about Victor Caldwell's sudden concern for his wife's safety. Was the millionaire really worried? Or was he setting up an alibi for Angel's disappearance? The truth in this case remained elusive as ever.

  Despite Caldwell's insistence to the contrary, Taine doubted that Arelim was one of the Lodge novices. Killing one of the masters of the Order usually took a lot more skill than any initiate possessed. The inner circle achieved their position through both skill and ruthlessness. They kept close tabs on anyone moving up through the ranks. If Taine's hunch proved correct, this Avenging Angel controlled forces far beyond a novice's ambitions. He would know more once he talked to Willis Royce.

  21

  The doorbell sounded at exactly six o'clock.

  "He's punctual at least," said Leo Packard, smiling at his daughter. "Roger was always late."

  "Father," said Janet, hurrying to answer the door, "please don't mention my ex tonight. The less said about him the better."

  "Amen," said Leo. "Well, open it already. The poor man is standing out in the rain while you chatter."

  "I look okay?" asked Janet for the dozenth time, as she turned the knob.

  "Stunning. After all, you did change outfits three times."

  Taine stood on the front porch, waiting patiently under a huge black umbrella. He was conservatively dressed in a dark brown corduroy suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful chest. An intricately designed tie offset the somber cast of his jacket. Freshly shaved, he was the soul of respectability.

  In the hand not clutching the umbrella, the detective held a bouquet of red roses. "Red roses to chase the blues away," he said, handing her the flowers.

  For a second, their eyes met and sparks flashed. "Please come in," said Janet, holding the roses tightly as if they might suddenly vanish.

  "Terrible weather," said Taine, shaking off his umbrella in the front hall. "April showers bring May flowers but this is ridiculous."

  Behind Janet, Leo loudly cleared his throat.

  "I heard you, Father," said Janet. Half-turning, she made the introductions. "Sidney Taine, my father, Leo Packard."

  "Pleased to meet you," said Taine, offering his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

  "All lies, I assure you," said Leo with a laugh. "You impressed Janet. I can see why. How about something to drink before dinner?"

  "Beer would be fine," said Taine. "Preferably a light." All three of them walked into the front parlor.

  "I'll be back in a minute," said Janet. "Let me get a vase for these roses. Dad, I'll have my usual."

  When she returned a few minutes later, Taine and her father were discussing the Cubs chances in the upcoming baseball season. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes," she said, taking a sip from her drink.

  "Perhaps a brief inspection of the house," said Leo.

  "That sounds fine with me," replied Taine. "I took the liberty of arriving a little early and checked the grounds on my own. Those three men watching the house," he said to Leo, "I assume are working for you?"

  "Three men?" said Janet. "What three men?"

  "Employees of mine," said Leo, sounding rather annoyed. "It seemed like a wise move at the time. Now, I wonder."

  "By concentrating solely on the house, they ignored their surroundings," said Taine. "Your men appeared edgy, probably due to this incessant rain. They needed a break."

  "I'll cut down on their shifts," said Leo. "And make sure they keep a better perimeter watch."

  "One highly motivated individual," said Taine seriously, "could eliminate that trio in seconds, leaving you helpless. A psychopath won't hesitate killing anyone who stands in his way. From what Janet told me of her ex-husband, he fills the bill. You can never be too careful with a lunatic like that on the prowl."

  "Mommy, mommy," cried Tim from the second floor landing, breaking the thread of conversation, "is the company here yet? I'm getting hungry."

  "Yes, the company is here," answered Janet. "Why not come down and meet him. Dinner will be ready soon.

  A nervous twinge tugged the muscles in her neck as Tim came flying down the stairs. Her son meant more than anyone in the world to her. The fears of the everyday world melted before his innocence and unquestioning devotion. She silently prayed that he would like Taine.

  Half-running, half-sliding across the high-polished floor, Tim came to rest only a few feet from the detective. He stared up at the big man with inquisitive eyes. Under one arm, he carried Optimus Prime.

  "Hey, who's this?" asked Taine, sounding puzzled. "You told me Tim was a little kid. This mug looks pretty dangerous to me. You sure he isn't a secret agent in disguise."

  "Sometimes I wonder," said Janet, smiling. "Tim, shake hands with Mr. Taine."

  "Sure," said Tim, grabbing one of Taine's huge hands with both of his. He pumped the detective's arm up and down enthusiastically. "Do you really think I look like a secret agent?"

  "No question about it," said Taine. "And I should know. I've met some pretty dangerous characters in my day."

  "My mom says you're a detective," said Tim, releasing Taine's hand. "Do you carry a gun?"

  "Not unless I need one," said Taine. "Guns create more problems than they solve. I only use one in emergencies."

  "Detectives on TV always carry them," said Tim.

  "They fight more dangerous criminals than I do," answered Taine. "Your mom is going to show me around the house. Want to keep us company?"

  "Sure." Then, holding out Optimus Prime, "Do you like Transformers?"

  Taine hesitated, his face puzzled. For the first time, Janet saw him at a loss for words. He pondered the question for a moment, then answered tentatively. "I haven't played with trains since ..."

  "Not trains," said Tim, laughing, "Transformers. You know, like Optimus Prime and Starscream and Bumblebee."

  "Robots that transform into cars or planes," said Janet, coming to the confused detective's rescue.

  Reaching past him, she took the metal figure from her son's hands and swiftly folded it together in the correct manner. In seconds, she changed the big red semi into a heroic robotic figure, armed with a powerful laser cannon. Fortunately, Optimus Prime was one of the few Transformers she knew how to manipulate.

  Taine stared at her, astonished. "Incredible. I never saw anything like that."

  He turned to Tim. "Anybody who owns toys like this one must be a spy. Do you have more of these Transformers? I thought so. How about it? Can you bring some others down?"

  "If Mom says okay," said Tim. "She says they belong in my room."

  "Mom's are like that," said Taine, shaking his head in dismay. He smiled at Janet and took one of her hands in his. "What do you say, boss? Can your son break the rules this one time?" He squeezed her hand gently. "Please."

  "Just this one time," said Janet, trying not to laugh.

  With a whoop of delight, Tim went running up the stairs two at a time. Still holding hands, Janet and Taine watched him disappear into his room. The detective grinned and tried to explain. "They didn't have toys like this when I was a kid."

  "You made a conquest," said Leo, forgotten in the exchange about toys. He headed for the kitchen. "Two of them, I suspect. Excuse me if I make a quick phone call."

  They played with Transformers until dinner. At the meal, Tim kept up a running commentary on the history of the robots from their creation millions of years ago on the planet, Cybertron, to their adventures set in the near future. Janet tried to quiet him down for a few minutes, then gave up, recognizing a battle lost before it started.

  Martha outdid herself on the food. They feasted on gulf shrimp sauteed in butter and garlic, wild rice and fresh green beans. Between bites, Taine entertained them with stories of some of his more unusual cases. Janet suspected the detective exaggerated the ineptness of the criminals to lessen her fears. He spoke with the calm assurance of a man confident of his own abilities. By the end of dinner, Janet found herself wondering why he was unattached in a city full of predatory females. She made a resolution to herself to discover the answer to that riddle—once they were alone.

  After dessert, her father and Taine carefully checked all the doors and windows of the house. The old mansion passed every inspection Taine suggested. A private agency maintained Brentwood when Leo was not in residence. Most visits home, he updated the security system and alarms. He believed in leaving as little to chance as possible. Too many lunatics preyed on the rich for Leo to leave his safety to chance.

  It was Bruno's night off, but her father came to the rescue. "Come on, Mr. Packard. Martha rented Ghost-busters on videotape. We can watch it in the TV room and give your mother a break from your chatter."

  "Only if we make popcorn," said Tim.

  "Popcorn it is."

  Leo shook hands again with Taine. "Nice meeting you, young man," he said warmly. "Stop by again soon."

  Then, finally, they were completely alone. Together, they sat down on the big sofa facing the empty fireplace. "How about a mint?" said Janet, sliding closer to the detective.

  "No thanks," said Taine. "I've eaten enough for a week. So much for my diet. You don't eat like this every night do you? You can't with a figure like yours?"