Lucifer's Weekend (Digger)

by Warren Murphy

  He slept soundly, interrupted only by a dream in which Koko did something very nice to him.

  When Digger awoke, he reached a hand out to stroke Koko, but the bed was empty. He looked around nervously for a moment, then saw the tape recorder on the pillow next to his head. He lit a cigarette, then pressed the recorder’s playback button and Koko’s syruped voice filled the room.

  "Dear Schmuck. I didn’t want to wake you up because you looked like you had a hard night. I listened to your fresh tape and I think you’re right. Belton’s behind all this, but why? Anyhow, I’ve got an idea and so I’m going out for a while. Don’t worry, nobody in town knows me, and if all these people on your tapes are any sample of the population, I don’t want them to get to know me. I’ll be all right. Yes, yes, yes. I’ll drive slowly. I’d call you before I come back but there’s no phone in our room, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I didn’t want you to have to walk all the way to Phone City to take a call.

  "By the way, that was me during the night. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me."

  Digger turned off the recorder and looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Women always did that. They didn’t ever tell you what time it was when they were leaving a message. He once had a tape machine on his telephone but he finally took it out because it was annoying coming home and finding a message that said, "I’ll be over in a minute," and he didn’t know what hour it was when the phone call was made. Or even what day, for that matter, because one of the nice things about phone tape machines was that you didn’t ever have to go home.

  He never did that. He was always very precise on the telephone. He always said, "This is Julian Burroughs. It is now eleven A.M., Tuesday, June twenty-second, in the year of our Lord nineteen eighty-two, and where the fuck are you?"

  Digger took a shower, then tried the television, but there were only three channels and they were filled with evangelists intent on proving by Queegian logic that the earth was younger than the rocks it contained.

  He sat and smoked cigarettes until 12:45, when he heard a sound at the door. Koko pushed open the door and said, "Hi, Digger. I’m glad you’re dressed. Let’s go."

  "Hold on. Where are we going?"

  "Mrs. Gillette’s house."

  "Why? I don’t want to go. I’m having a nice time sitting here, watching the wallpaper peel."

  "Let’s go," Koko said. "Wear your tape."

  She let Digger drive. "Where have you been?" he asked.

  "Helping out at the well-baby examinations," she said. "Tell me about Lucius Belton."

  "What about him?"

  "Is he really as bad as you said on your tapes?" she asked.

  "Worse," Digger said. "He’s as old as death. His fingers are blue and that means his heart isn’t working right."

  "His wife’s young," Koko said.

  "Yeah. It’s almost obscene. This isn’t June-December; it’s more like B.C.-A.D. I don’t think it’s one of the big sex relationships of all time. He looks like his last orgasm was powder. What do you want to know for?"

  He parked the car in front of Louise Gillette’s house and saw that Cody Lord’s red pickup truck was parked in the driveway.

  "The truck belongs to Gillette’s friend," Digger said. "The one who’s sleeping with the widow Gillette."

  Koko nodded and followed Digger to the front door. He gave the brass knocker one sharp rap, and the door was opened only a few seconds later by the ever-present Ardath.

  "Hello, Mr. Burroughs," she said.

  "Hi, Ardath. This is my friend, Koko."

  The little girl extended her hand. "How do you do?" she said. "You’re very beautiful."

  "You’re very perceptive," Koko said.

  "Is your mother in?" Digger said. "We’d like to talk to her."

  Ardath lowered her voice. "Cody is here. They’re in the kitchen. I’ll tell them you’re here."

  "Thank you," Digger said.

  As Ardath walked down the hall, Koko said to Digger, "That’s the first person I’ve ever seen you be polite to, without having an ulterior motive."

  "No ulterior motive, my butt," Digger said. "That kid’s coming into a lot of money. I’m hoping she’ll adopt me."

  Ardath reappeared and with a crook of her finger motioned them to follow her. She led them into the kitchen, where Cody and Mrs. Gillette sat over coffee cups at a large round table. Lord looked embarrassed to see Digger, who nodded at him.

  "Mr. Burroughs," Louise Gillette said.

  "This is my assistant, Miss Fanucci," Digger said. Mrs. Gillette nodded to her politely, even while appraising her with the hard, instant inspection that one beautiful woman gives another. "She has a couple of questions," Digger said.

  "If we can help," Louise said.

  "Your husband had a scar on his right hand," Koko said. "How did he get it?"

  "It was a surgical scar," Louise said. "He had a birthmark removed."

  "Sort of red, star-shaped?" Koko asked.

  "Yes, that’s right. How did you know?"

  Koko ignored the question, which impressed Digger because it was exactly the right thing to do.

  "Does Ardath have a similar birthmark?" Koko asked.

  Mrs. Gillette shook her head. "Apparently, it’s male-linked," she said. "Vernon’s father had it too."

  Suddenly, Digger knew what Koko was up to. The young Oriental woman turned to him and said, "That’s all I need, Dig."

  "Just a minute," he said. "Mrs. Gillette, Lord, Vern talked about making a big score. Do either of you know what he meant?"

  Lord shook his head. Mrs. Gillette said, "No. He would talk about it once in a while, about something that would make us rich enough to leave this town and never look back."

  "He never told you what?" Digger asked.

  "No. I surmised it was something he was working on at Belton and Sons. But Vern was kind of close-mouthed about most things."

  "Yes, I guess he was," Digger said. "Well, thank you, we’ll be going now."

  "Just a moment," Mrs. Gillette said. "Have you found out anything? Anything that bears on Vern’s death?"

  "We may have," Digger said, "but it’s too early to tell. We’ll let you know as soon as we’re sure."

  "Please do. This is very important to all of us."

  Ardath led them back to the front door, and as they left she said to them, "You’re doing excellent work."

  "How do you know?" Digger said.

  "I can tell," the little girl said.

  Outside, Koko remarked, "You’ve made a conquest. Ardath’s in love with you."

  "I guess it’s me or Lord and she’d rather have a male figure around who at least looks like he has a spine. Gillette was the father of the Belton baby, wasn’t he?"

  Koko stopped and looked at him. "You’re smart, you know that?"

  "Not as smart as you. You figured it out first," he said.

  "When I heard your tapes, I got to wondering about, what do you call him, Lucifer, being the baby’s father. Then while you were out sporting last night with different women, I read the Belton paper and found out that Mrs. Belton and baby were going to kick off that well-baby examination today in the school cafeteria. I went down early and signed up as a volunteer. Her baby’s got the birthmark on the back of his right hand. The mother tried to keep it covered up, but I was helping Dr. Leonardo and I got a look at it."

  "How’d you know it was hereditary?" Digger asked.

  "I didn’t. Not for sure. But it was almost a precise five-pointed star. When I was at the university, I studied genetics and I did a paper on birthmarks. This just looked like it might be one of them."

  "That’s why you made Phi Beta Kappa and I became an accountant," Digger said.

  "Don’t feel bad," Koko said. "You know more about the Bible than I do. On the tape when I heard you talking about Lucifer, the fallen angel, I thought it was from Milton. Not from Isaiah."

  "I don’t know just the Bible," Digger said. "I know poetry too. And literature. Do y
ou know who wrote ‘The Dissertation on Roast Pig’?"

  "No. Who?"

  "Lamb. You know how I remember that?" he asked.

  "No, how?"

  "Because it should have been written by Bacon. What business does Lamb have writing about roast pig? My knowledge of things like this is virtually unlimited. Where are we going now?" he said as they got into the car.

  "I think you ought to take this car back before LaGrande hands you up for an auto thief. And I think you ought to buy me breakfast."

  "Okay."

  "And if you’re real good, I’ll tell you how Gillette was murdered," she said.

  Koko was to the world of food what Digger was to the world of alcohol—a world-class competitor who would not be embarrassed by any competition.

  The LaGrande Inn had put out a big Sunday brunch, and Koko had stacked two plates full of eggs and sausage and bacon and pancakes and Danish and buttered rolls. Digger had ordered a drink from the bar, and from the food line he had chosen an English muffin from which he had torn a corner to nibble at.

  "How’d you find out?" Digger asked. "Go ahead, talk with your mouth full."

  "Thank you," she said. "As I said, I volunteered to help Dr. Leonardo at the well-baby thing so I could get a look at Mrs. Belton. Finding that mark on the baby was a bonus."

  "How’d you get Leonardo to let you help?"

  "Digger, I’m good at this. I smiled at him and wiggled my ass a little. How was he going to pass me up?"

  "How indeed?" Digger said. "Hugo never could."

  "There weren’t too many babies there so it didn’t take too long. Anyway, when it was done, I leveled with Leonardo."

  "That’s a mistake," Digger said. "Never tell anybody the truth. What’d you tell him?"

  "I’ll keep that in mind from now on. I told him I was your assistant and I got him talking about Vern Gillette’s body."

  "He talked?"

  "Sure he did. Particularly after I told him what an idiot you were, trying to prove that Gillette had died of a heart attack. Sorry, Digger. I had to do that."

  Digger said, "My feelings aren’t really hurt. You ought to see what I say about you behind your back."

  "So, he told me about the autopsy," Koko said. "And the only unusual thing was the two burn marks on Gillette’s wrists. They were real burns."

  "Just like the two burns in the cabin floor," Digger said.

  "Exactly," she said. "That’s when I figured out how they did it. Whoever they were."

  "Right," Digger said. "It was probably Harker. He slugged Gillette, then he turned off one of the cabin’s electric circuits. He stripped the cord off that lamp and plugged it in. Then he put the two end wires in Gillette’s hands or under his wrists or something and plugged in the cord. Then he went into the bathroom and turned on the circuit. It was like an electric chair. It fried Gillette and burned the floor."

  "That’s the way it sounded to me," Koko said.

  Digger nodded. "It all makes sense. You didn’t tell Leonardo about any of this, did you?"

  "Of course not. I flirted with him and promised to come in for an exam tomorrow…. My chest hasn’t been feeling good."

  "It feels good to me," Digger said.

  "But I didn’t tell him anything," she said.

  "Good."

  "What do we do now?" Koko asked.

  "I don’t know," Digger said, sipping his vodka. He tried another bite of his English muffin, but didn’t like it. "Let’s see what we’ve got. We’ve got Vernon Gillette knocking up his boss’s wife, and probably the boss finding out about it. That’s probably why all the dinner invitations to the Gillettes suddenly stopped. Then we’ve got Gillette talking about making a big score. Blackmail the boss, who’s bananas about carrying on the Belton and Sons line? Sounds logical. Now we’ve got Gillette going up to the cabin and Cody Lord leaving him alone. We’ve got Lord and Mrs. Gillette as an entry, but they didn’t kill Gillette because Cody’s got no balls and Mrs. Gillette wouldn’t do it stupidly. Marla spends some of the night with Gillette up at the cabin. They hear a noise, she runs away, she hears voices and a thud. She sees a cop’s car alongside the road with nobody in it. Gillette’s dead, certainly not by any accident changing a fuse ’cause there weren’t any fuses in the cabin. He’s got burn marks and there are burn marks on the floor and there’s a lamp with the electrical cord ripped out—and I think you’re right, somebody just plugged him in like a Christmas tree. I say Harker. And it was Harker—because Dolly told him I was there—who came up to the cabin and tried to blow me away. If it were Cody, he wouldn’t have missed. I’ve seen his trophies. And, besides, Harker is old man Belton’s stooge. That’s what we’ve got; what do you think?"

  "What do you think?" Koko asked.

  "I think it’s all we’re going to get without getting our asses blown off," Digger said. "I don’t like the motive for Belton. You’d think there were other ways of dealing with Gillette and blackmail than by killing him. But I don’t know how we can find out anymore. They’ve already shot at me once—their aim’s bound to improve. It’s not neat and it annoys me, but I think we go back and I tell Frank Stevens about all of it and let him pull strings and get the state police in here and let them work it over."

  "You don’t like that idea, do you?" Koko asked, between bites of a Danish pastry.

  "No. My cowboy soul doesn’t want to leave it at that. It doesn’t want to give this to the state police. It wants me to go and get Harker and punch his face off and make him confess and then arrest them all and tie it up in a neat little package. But that won’t work. First of all, who the hell around here would we get to arrest Harker? He’s a town cop. They’ll arrest me, but not him. Not on my word."

  "You’re right," Koko said. She sipped her coffee. "What about Mrs. Gillette’s money?"

  "I think she’ll go along. She wants the killer. If the state cops say murder, she’ll get her half mill. If they say no murder, then…ah, shit, then we’re right back where we started from, arguing with her about a million or a half million. I hate things that aren’t neat and tidy."

  "How come you’re such a slob then?" Koko asked.

  "I try to be neat. It’s just not my style," Digger said.

  Both her plates were empty and wiped as clean as if they had just come out of a dishwasher. Koko smiled and folded her napkin and said, "Screw it, then, it’s settled. Give it to Stevens for the state cops. You and I will enjoy the rest of our weekend. We’ll find horses and go riding." She hesitated. "You owe it to Mrs. Gillette, though, to tell her just what’s going down."

  "Screw the horseback riding," Digger said. "I think we ought to just get out of here before Harker finds another reason to shoot at me. Gunfire can stampede our mounts, podner. But I’ll go talk to Mrs. Gillette. She’s got to be careful too."

  Digger left Koko to pack while he drove, in his own rented car, to Mrs. Gillette’s. Cody Lord had gone and Louise listened calmly as Digger went through the story step by step. He left nothing out, and when he was done, she said, "I think you’re absolutely right. This is a matter now for police agencies. They’ve got more resources than you do, and…well, I’m not comfortable with the thought of your being a target."

  "Thank you," Digger said. "It makes me uncomfortable too. Where’s Ardath?"

  "She’s out playing."

  "Are you going to tell her about this?"

  "Yes, of course. Perhaps not every detail, but there isn’t any point in trying to hide the truth from her."

  "She can handle it," Digger said. "When you talk to her, tell her I did my best. And you both be careful."

  "We will," Mrs. Gillette said. "Thank you."

  When he got back to his room at Gus LaGrande’s, Koko was gone. The suitcases still were not packed, and Digger suspected that after eating a breakfast big enough for four, she had gotten hungry again and gone downstairs for lunch.

  But she was not in any of the dining rooms and he asked Gus, on duty behind the bar, "Have you seen the
girl I was with?"

  "Koko? Yeah, she went running out of here about a half-hour ago. There was a phone call to your room, and a couple of minutes later she came flying out."

  "She say anything?"

  "No."

  "Do you know who called?"

  Gus shook his head. "Some guy. I didn’t know the voice."

  "Who’d he ask for?"

  "Oh. Miss Fanucci in Mr. Burroughs’ room," Gus said.

  Digger nodded. He felt a knot slowly tightening in the pit of his stomach, but he went back upstairs to the room to wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Burroughs?"

  "Yeah, Harker. Where is she?"

  "You’ve got a pretty little girl friend, Burroughs. Very pretty."

  "Harker, don’t mess around. It’s me you want, not her. She doesn’t know anything. Now where is she?"

  "You just sit your ass right there by the phone, Burroughs. I’m going to call you in exactly one hour. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you talk to her. If she’s not otherwise occupied."

  "You bastard," Digger said.

  "An hour, Burroughs. And if you talk to anybody about anything, well, you’re never going to see your little slant again."

  Click.

  Digger hung up the telephone, which had gone dead in his hand. An hour. Harker was trying to keep him on ice. For what? To have more time to rough up Koko? No. To give them time to set things up to get rid of both Digger and Koko. He had an hour.

  Just an hour.

  Digger went to his dresser and took out the laundry bag of tape recordings. Into the bag he also dropped the business card of Frank Stevens, the president of BSLI. He took the bag downstairs to Gus.

  The bar was empty as Digger handed the bag over.

  "Gus, listen, this is important."

  "All ears," the young man said.

  "If anything happens, there’s a business card in this bag. I want you to call that person and tell him you’ve got this bag. You understand?"

  "I guess so. Like what’s going to happen?"