Mister X. John Lutz
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Название: Mister X
Автор: John Lutz
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: A Frank Quinn Novel
isbn: 9780786025954
isbn:
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Part II
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Part III
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Part IV
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Epilogue
PART I
And what are you that, missing you
I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
With weeping for your sake?
—EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY, “The Philosopher”
1
Quinn had found a box of paper clips in his bottom desk drawer and was just straightening up when the dead woman entered his office.
She’d startled him, the way she’d come in without making any noise.
She wasn’t what you’d call beautiful, but she was attractive, with slim hips and legs inside new-looking stiff jeans, small breasts beneath a white sleeveless blouse. Her shoulder-length hair was brown, her eyes a deeper brown and slightly bulbous. She had symmetrical features with oversized lips, a slight overbite. A yellow file folder stuffed with what looked like newspaper clippings was tucked beneath her left arm. Her right hand held a brown leather shoulder bag, the strap scrunched up to act as a handle. She’d said on the phone her name was Tiffany Keller. If she were still alive, Quinn thought, she’d be pushing thirty.
There was a kind of grim resolve to her expression, as if she’d just been affronted and was about to fire back.
The generous mouth suddenly arced into a toothy smile, and the dogged expression disappeared entirely, as if a face like hers couldn’t hold such a visage for long. Quinn was left with the impression that he’d momentarily glimpsed someone else entirely.
“Captain Frank Quinn, I presume.”
“Just Quinn,” he said. “Like the lettering on the door, Quinn and Associates Investigations.”
“I was aware you were no longer with the NYPD,” she said.
“Want to sit down?” he asked, motioning with a paper clip toward one of the walnut chairs angled in front of his desk.
“I’ll stand, thanks.” Her smile widened. “I’m Tiffany Keller.”
He continued staring at the woman while his right hand groped for the empty glass ashtray he used to contain paper-clips. “You said when you phoned earlier to make this appointment that you were Tiffany Keller. Would you be the same Tiffany Keller who was a victim of a serial killer?”
“That would be me.”
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