She was getting her purse from a drawer when a man's voice cut through the quiet.
"What a great success it all was."
Grace looked up to see Fredrique standing between the open doors. He shut them as he stepped into the room.
* * *
Smith came back from the hotel's gym in a grim mood. He'd deliberately beaten the hell out of himself, but even after miles of running and having lifted enough weights to make his shoulders scream in pain, he still hadn't gotten what he'd been looking for. He'd been shooting for the kind of dead, exhausted state he remembered from his combat days. Instead, he was still keyed up, only sore now.
He knew he had to call Pryne's office. They were expecting to hear from him.
He took a shower, first.
Smith was drying off when he heard his cell phone ringing. His instincts came alive, his first thought of Grace.
When he answered it, an unfamiliar voice said, "Mr. Smith?"
"Yeah?"
"It's Joey. The countess's doorman."
Smith gripped the phone. "What is it?"
"You, ah—you told me to call you if anyone wanted to get into her apartment. Well, this guy showed up here a little while ago."
"Tell me."
"He's a caterer. I've seen him here before. Fredrique-something. He said the countess needed a change of clothes after the Gala and that he'd been told to pick them up and take them to the Foundation for her. I mean, I've seen him with her before. Last year, as a matter of fact. But you did say to call you."
"Did you let him in? " Smith shot back.
"No. He got a little steamed. I hope he doesn't screw me for this."
Thank God.
"You did the right thing, Joey. Is she home yet?" Smith rushed to the phone next to the bed.
"No, she's not back."
"Tell me what he was wearing."
"It was a chef's outfit. Whites. He said he'd been at the Gala cooking, but they were clean, which I thought was weird."
Smith was dialing Tiny's cell while they talked. "Tell her to call me the moment you see her. Thanks, Joey."
"When a woman answered Tiny's cell, he had a feeling the shit had hit the fan. A minute later, Tiny finally got on the line, sounding hoarse and breathing harshly.
"What the hell's happening?" Smith yelled.
"Ah, shit, Boss."
"Talk!" Smith held the phone to his ear as he started to throw on clothes and strapped his gun holster across his shoulders. "Where's Grace?"
"I don't know. I spent the evening in the ER and this is the first time they've let me use the phone. Look, she's not alone. I think she's got one of the local yokels with her and I know Marks and his boys are around. She's fine."
"The hell she is! They've got the wrong man." Smith slammed the phone down and re-dialed the number on his cell phone while he left his room. He was pounding down the hall to the stairs when Tiny answered again. "How the hell did you end up in the hospital?"
"She maced me."
Smith looked at the phone as if it had malfunctioned. "She what?"
"And I had a reaction to the shit."
"Christ. Take care of yourself."
"I'm sorry about this, Boss."
By this time, Smith was halfway down the building. He hung up and dialed the lieutenant's cell phone.
As soon as Marks answered, Smith said, "How many boys do you have at the Foundation?"
"None. We took them off the detail at her request. She said she was going to use her own men tonight and considering we have—”
"Get some cops over there now. Whoever you have in custody isn't the guy killing those women."
Smith broke out of the hotel through a side door and began running flat out. He was only three blocks from the Hall Building, but it felt like miles.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's the goddamn caterer. Fredrique."
"The caterer?"
"He's already tried to get into Grace's apartment tonight. Her doorman called me. I don't have time to give details. You've got to trust me on this."
"Do you know what he looks like?"
Smith gave a description of Fredrique. "And he's in chef's whites."
Marks was already barking orders as he was hanging up.
When Smith flew into the lobby of the Hall Building, a security guy he recognized looked up from the front desk with a smile. "Hey there—"
"Where is she?"
"The countess? I think she left already. To go home."
* * *
Grace retreated until she felt the chair hit the back of her legs. "What are you doing here?" Fredrique smiled. "I couldn't miss the season's biggest event. The canapés were nice, though I wouldn't have done something so common, of course. Your guests could have been much more impressed. But then you didn't use me."