J.L. Doty - Dead Among Us 01 - When Dead Ain’t Dead Enough Read Online Free PDF

architectural community, and Paul had been unable to learn anything about him prior to this interview. Strange that, but nevertheless, an interview was better than no interview at all. He figured he could learn a bit about the fellow’s firm during the process.
    Suite 4401, Dayandalous had told him. When the elevator doors opened it was obvious suite 4401 occupied the entire forty-fourth floor. There was no hallway leading to other suites; the elevator opened directly into a large and luxurious lobby for Dayandalous’ firm. Behind a darkly wooded desk sat a receptionist that could’ve made it into any modeling agency in the world. As Paul approached her she smiled.
    “I’m Paul Conklin. I have an appointment with Mr. Dayandalous.”
    Her smile widened. “Yes, Mr. Conklin. Dayandalous is expecting you. Please have a seat  . . .” she waved her hand at a couch against one wall, “ . . . and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
    Paul sat down, picked up a magazine and started leafing through it, not really paying attention to anything in it. He didn’t have to wait more than a minute or two before a tall black man in a dark business suit approached him. Paul stood. “Paul Conklin?” the man asked politely, sticking out his hand. “I’m Dayandalous.” The fellow had the deep and resonant voice of a Shakespearean actor.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dayandalous,” Paul said, shaking his hand. Dayandalous was tall, six-four, six-five, broad shouldered, trim waist, early middle age, wearing a suit that must’ve cost a month of Paul’s wages, probably Armani or something like that. And Dayandalous was black. Not the black of an African American man whose skin is actually brown, but real black, true black, carbon black. Paul looked into Dayandalous’ eyes, and for a moment he thought they were amber, like the eyes of a cat, with oddly shaped pupils. But when he blinked and looked again they were simple, ordinary blue, with normal round pupils. As Dayandalous ushered Paul into his office he thought, No hallucinations now, Paulie-boy. Save that for the privacy of your own home.
    Dayandalous sat Paul in a comfortable chair facing a desk the size of an aircraft carrier, then sat down behind the desk. Dayandalous held up a couple of sheets of paper. “You’ve got a nice resume, Mr. Conklin.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Dayandalous.”
    “It’s just Dayandalous. No mister.”
    “Certainly, sir.” Paul had a hundred questions, but interviews don’t go that way. The interviewer gets to ask questions first, and the interviewee answers, tries to be polite and make a good impression. If Paul did make a good impression, then he’d get a chance to ask some questions of his own, and if Dayandalous was truly interested, maybe a lot of questions.
    Dayandalous questioned him rather thoroughly, though in a nice way. In addition to Paul’s architectural credentials he was quite interested in Suzanna and Cloe’s deaths, not asking for crude, impolite details, but focusing more on Paul’s reaction. And that was understandable, since everyone knew Paul had gone into a funk for an overly long time, and anyone would want some reassurance before hiring him. But at one point Dayandalous raised an eyebrow and said, “Well it’s good to know you’re not seeing things that aren’t there.”
    It startled Paul so much that before he could stop he blurted out angrily, “What do you mean by that?”
    Dayandalous’ expression turned stony, and again Paul had the impression of amber eyes with vertically slit pupils, but this time the pupils flared dark red instead of black. But when Paul looked again Dayandalous’ eyes were once again blue, simple blue with simple black pupils. Dayandalous smiled warmly.
    Paul felt suddenly calm, couldn’t recall what had upset him so, and since Dayandalous seemed unconcerned he let it go.
    Dayandalous stood. “Well thank you for coming in, Paul.”
    Paul also stood, because that was what he was