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We all held our breath.
“Rattigan.” His cold voice issued from a steel-trap mouth.
We let our air out.
At last I said, “They can’t all be there in that one vault.”
Grey shut his eyes. “I—”
“I know, I know,” I said quickly. I stared at my friends.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Jesus Christ,” murmured Crumley. “Goddamn. Can you give us directions to the Rattigan tomb?”
Grey scribbled on a notepad map. “Easy to find. There’re fresh flowers out front. The tomb door is open. There will be a memorial service there tomorrow.”
“Who’s being entombed?”
We all waited, eyes shut, guessing the answer.
“Rattigan,” said Grey, almost smiling. “Someone named Constance Rattigan.”
Chapter Forty-Five
The rain was so thick the graveyard disappeared. All we could see as we drove uphill in an electric runabout were monuments on the side of the road. The path ahead vanished in the downpour. I carried a map on my lap, marked with an arrow and the name of the area. We stopped.
“It’s there,” said Crumley. “Azalia Gardens? Plot sixteen. Neo-Palladian edifice.”
The rain blew back like a curtain and a flicker of lightning showed us a slender tomb with Palladian pillars on each side of a tall metal door, which stood ajar.
“So if she wants out,” said Henry, “she’s out. Or invite folks in. Rattigan!”
The rain lifted and blew away and the tomb waited while thunder ran along the far brim of the graveyard. The open door trembled.
Crumley spoke almost to himself: “Jesus! Constance buried herself. Name after name. Year after year. When she was done with one act, one face, one mask, she hired a tomb and stashed herself away. And now, to get the job, maybe, from Fritz, she’s killing all her selves again. Don’t go in there, Willie.”
“She’s in there now,” I said.
“Horse apples,” said Crumley. “Goddamn intuition?”
“No.” I shivered. “Goddamn hunch. She’s got to be saved.” I climbed out.
“She’s dead!”
“I’ll save her anyway.”
“Like hell you will!” said Crumley. “You’re under arrest! Get back in here!”
“You’re the law, sure, but you’re my friend.”
I was flooded with cold rain.
“Dammit, dammit all to hell. Go on! Run, you stupid idiot! We’ll be waiting downhill. I’ll be goddamned if I’ll sit and watch your head come flying out that goddamn door. Come find us! Damn you!”
“Hold on!” Fritz cried.
“Hold goddamn nothing!”
