Ladyfingers

by Shepard Rifkin

  "No."

  "Just thought I'd ask."

  "If you'll just put it down and come upstairs for a second I'd appreciate it."

  "Be right up."

  She put the handle down carefully. "I don't want anyone to trip over it."

  "Of course."

  I wanted her up because my technique for handling hysterical women is to slap them. I didn't think that would work out too well here.

  When the Duchess came in she stopped for a second at the sight of Henley. Then she came in closer and stared at the scalpel handle.

  "He's dead, isn't he?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you know, that's the first dead person I've ever seen."

  "Beats sky diving, doesn't it?"

  She let that one pass. "Did you kill him?" she asked.

  I pointed to Dr. Lyons. She had twisted herself to a sitting position and now she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was looking down at the handle.

  "No," she said. "No. No. No. No."

  It was beginning.

  "No! No, no! NO!"

  She brought her fingernails up to her face and raked downwards with all her strength. Then she slid to the floor and knelt above Henley. Before I could stop her she had smashed her mutilated hand against the floor with all her weight behind it.

  "My love," she moaned. "My love, my love, my lost love!"

  She fell across him and embraced him with both hands. The blood ran from her stumps as she held his cheek. It was right out of a horror movie.

  "Stop her!" the Duchess said. "Stop her!"

  "Stop her yourself!"

  The Duchess knelt. She embraced Dr. Lyons. "It's all right now, darling," she said. "It's all right now, darling."

  It wasn't all right, but there are times when the music says more than the words. I couldn't be so comforting to a woman who had done the things that she had done and who had killed a faithful husband when Henley snapped his fingers.

  Dr. Lyons turned and put her face against the Duchess' breast and began to cry long, groaning sobs. Good. Let her have a good cry. It would keep her quiet going back to the New Hope police station.

  The Duchess patted her cheek and crooned words like in old lullabies. She didn't give a damn about the blood on her dress. She held the doctor and rocked back and forth and when she began to cry I stood there stunned.

  The hysterical sobbing ebbed. Then Dr. Lyons was quiet. I walked across the room and picked up the phone. I asked the operator for the chief of police. She connected me with his home. In the background I could hear the TV.

  "Chief Walker."

  "Detective Sanchez. New York Police Department. I've got a homicide for you."

  "You called earlier this evening?"

  "Yes."

  "Why didn't you ask for us before you went snooping?"

  "I didn't think I had enough evidence to justify getting a warrant."

  "You responsible for the homicide?"

  "No. Some lady here did it."

  "I'll be right over."

  The receiver was ripped out of my hand and smashed down on the phone.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted.

  "I'm reporting a homicide," I said.

  "Are you actually going to arrest her?"

  "I'm not. This is Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania police will arrest her."

  "That's a big satisfaction for you, isn't it?"

  "Look. There were two fingers on the PC's desk. An Inspector was sure I'd screw it up. I've solved it. I've saved her life. You understand that?"

  "So what?"

  "So what? I'll tell you so what. It goes down on my record, that's so what!"

  She paid no attention.

  "You mean she's going to be tried for killing him? When he was trying to kill you?"

  "She'll get off that one, that's justifiable homicide, the Grand Jury won't indict her when I testify."

  "Then let her go!"

  "Let her go? She's got to be tried in New York for the murder of her husband!"

  "You keep telling me what the law is, and I look at her hand and her face and I can imagine what she went through these last few days and I say you stink!"

  I was going to say that I knew damn well what she went through. Why the hell did she think I went without sleep trying to figure out where she was? Didn't she think I felt sorry for the woman? But my job was not to be a judge, but to bring her before a judge. All I got out was one word.

  "I…" I began.

  "Look at her! Look at her, you lousy cheap cop!"

  This was going too far. And as for Dr. Lyons, I didn't want to look at her. It tore my heart. She had killed the man she loved, the man who had tattooed her, mutilated her, forced her to degrade her profession and violate its most sacred oaths, forced her to murder her husband, and here she was weeping over him! I would never understand women; a hundred years would pass, and it would all still be a mystery.

  The Duchess pulled Dr. Lyons to her feet. She was as gentle as a trained nurse. She noticed Henley's doctor bag. She looked in it and spoke.

  "How much cash do you have on you?"

  "What?"

  "How much money?"

  "About fifty bucks. What-"

  "Give it to me."

  I looked at her with my mouth open.

  "Do you think I'll welsh on you?"

  I gave it to her. "Fix your hand; it's bleeding," she said. I had forgotten all about it. I wrapped some gauze around it. I felt like a first-born when a new baby arrives. I was big enough to take care of myself.

  "Now, listen to me," she said. "I'm taking her with me to Mexico. I can get there in three days."

  Driving the way she did I could believe it.

  "I've got all the credit cards," she said. "On Monday I'll pick up all I need. There're morphine ampoules and sleeping tablets and tranquilizers in the bag. I'll keep her drugged and asleep most of the time. When I get to Mexico I know a good doctor and a quiet, isolated house I can rent outside Mexico City where they know me and can keep quiet. When she recovers she'll never be able to operate but there's lots of things she can do down there under another name. She can diagnose, do preventive medicine-"

  "Jesus Christ, what the hell are you saying? She commits two homicides and you want me to let her go? So you can be a heroine and she can become a female Dr. Schweitzer? After I've called the chief of police?"

  "Just look the other way."

  "Look the other way? I'm a cop! I'm not supposed to look the other way! Then how the hell can I prove I've found her if she's not here? I mean, Jesus Christ, use your brain!"

  "Don't be vulgar and give me a kiss."

  I looked at her. I owed her my life. I supposed the least I could do would be to give her one in exchange.

  "Oh, Jesus Christ," I said.

  I gave her a kiss. She wouldn't be able to kiss anyone else after that one for at least a month. As for me, I wouldn't want to. No one else would ever have any flavor for me.

  "I'll mail you the money from Mexico."

  I heard a siren coming from the direction of New Hope.

  "Hurry up, you crazy broad," I said. I picked up Dr. Lyons. I was surprised to see how light and thin she was. It would not have been much of an honor for New York City to take such a small woman prisoner.

  I told the Duchess to get two pillows and a blanket. She got them and took Henley's bag as well. I put Dr. Lyons in the front seat of the Maserati. I slid the pillows under her and tucked the blanket around her. Her hand was still bleeding.

  "Get moving fast," I said. "You can bandage her a few miles out of town and dope her up. Go south as soon as you leave, and drive slowly till you're out of Pennsylvania."

  She sat in her seat and buckled both seat belts.

  "Take good care of my car," I said, "and change the oil every five thousand miles."

  "You know," she said, "if you're not doing anything about a month from now, if you're around Mexico City and you drop in to the Maria Cristina and you saunter
into the bar, you very well might find me sitting there. I'll be drunk. Not very drunk. But drunk. And not responding to anyone there."

  "Why not?"

  "It would all be on ice, Pablo. If you say so it'll all be on ice."

  "Keep it on ice," I said. "We'll thaw it out together."

  She turned the car around expertly in the narrow road.

  I watched her. She turned in her seat and blew a kiss at me and was gone in a spray of gravel. Over the little bridge and out of my life. Fifteen seconds later the red revolving light of a police car appeared.

  The chief got out.

  "You Sanchez?"

  "Yeah."

  The bottoms of the leaves turned red every three seconds.

  "Let's go."

  I took him upstairs. The chief looked down. "Where's the woman?"

  "She's gone."

  "What's this, a joke?"

  "She took off in my car while I was trying to see if Henley was still alive."

  "Well, for Crissakes."

  "You want a description?"

  "Yeah," he said, disgusted. "It would be helpful, wouldn't it?"

  "I don't know if your attitude is called for, Chief," I said. "After all, how could I know that-"

  "Let's have the description, please." He thought I was a prize jerk. He may have had something there.

  I very carefully described my Olds.

  "Hold on, hold on!"

  We walked downstairs to his car. He switched on the radio.

  I gave him all the details. I also added that the left rear taillight was broken. It wasn't, but little details like that mean much to cops.

  I added she was a tall blonde, wore a brown cashmere sweater, and had brown loafers. Then I thought of the Duchess driving across the United States without shoes and I suppressed a smile.

  "She won't get far," the chief said.

  That's what you think.

  "The state police will be here in about fifteen minutes," he said. "They'd like to ask you a few questions."

  "Sure," I said. "He's got a car parked in the garage you might want to look at."

  I went into the living room and lay down. I put my hands behind my head and thought. My hand felt wet. I got up and prowled around till I found some bandages and adhesive tape. I taped it. It looked an awful mess. If Dr. Lyons had not been there when I showed up, the Duchess would have been crooning over my wounds. I would have had a marvelous evening to look forward to. I angrily ripped some more tape off the roll with my teeth and slapped it on. All I gained from that was a painful twinge.

  I lay down again. I looked at my watch. I hadn't wound it. It still said 9:30.

  Hanrahan would be sound asleep. One of my last remaining pleasures would be to wake him up. Tomorrow he'd order all of Henley's associates and background investigated. They'd dig up everything I'd dug up.

  But they'd have no proof that Dr. Lyons' fingers were the ones that were mailed to the PC. And they'd have no proof that the woman who killed Henley was Dr. Lyons. But they could dig that up quickly enough by taking fingerprints from her apartment and then comparing them to the ones on the scalpel handle.

  They'd be sure that I hadn't done my duty properly by letting her get away. They'd be right.

  And it would all mean that Hanrahan's prediction had come true. I had screwed up the whole assignment.

  But they didn't know about the Duchess. I went back and forth carefully over that angle. I couldn't see any place where they would pick up her trail and tie her to Dr. Lyons' escape. They just might, if they questioned the police escort I had grabbed for the Maserati, but if the cops remembered the license number, a search would show that it was my car. That was only a possibility, and then we'd have a great situation where I would try to explain how come I could afford two cars.

  That would take them three, four days. By then she'd be in Mexico.

  Now that I felt carefree enough to rub noses with the Duchess, she was on her way to the other side of the continent. And even if she were around, she would be as unapproachable as a mother cat with a sick kitten.

  I lifted up the phone and called Hanrahan. He answered. Sour as usual.

  "Well?"

  Nobody ever calls an inspector after midnight with good news.

  "Detective Sanchez, sir."

  "Where the hell are you?"

  "Pennsylvania, sir."

  "You're in trouble, Sanchez. Hold it." I heard him scrabbling for a match. He grunted. He coughed, spat, bit off the tip of the cigar, and lit it. He was going to enjoy this relaxed conversation.

  "Sanchez."

  "I'm still holding it. One of life's irreducible pleasures."

  "What? You drunk? You sound drunk."

  "No, sir."

  "You didn't call like I told you to."

  "No, sir."

  "You were ordered to do so."

  "Yes, sir."

  "That little slip is gonna go on your record."

  "Sock it to me."

  "Sanchez, you high?"

  "No, sir. I'm lying on a comfortable couch listening to you with great reverence."

  "You find the woman or it's your ass. The PC wants your head on a platter. The papers got it tonight and they're pushing it hot and heavy. Do I ring any bells?"

  "Yes, sir. Sir, I would like you to tell the PC there'll be no more fingers."

  "What?"

  "I found her."

  "You found her?"

  The unhappiness in his voice is a memory I will always treasure.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Alive?"

  "Yes."

  I bet he was almost in tears. But I would have him smiling soon. That was a moment I would have liked to delay, but I couldn't put it off any more.

  "But she killed someone. The guy who had kidnapped her."

  "Sanchez-"

  "Sir, I'll be finished soon. She got away and now the local constabulary are all playing hide-and-go-seek outside in the bushes. I'll shove off in an hour or so. They're keeping my gun."

  "Why?"

  "He fired a couple shots at me. It's one of those police technicalities which I do not wish to explain."

  "How'd he get the gun off you?"

  "Partly by force, partly by coaxing."

  "You come in and you explain it to the PC. You let her get away, right? And you let this guy get your gun? You do the explaining tomorrow morning at nine sharp-and that doesn't mean noon. You hear?"

  "Sir, please pay those doctors' vouchers."

  "What? You pay them!"

  "I called those doctors together. That led me to Henley and the poor lady without fingers. There won't be any more fingers in the mail to spoil the PC's breakfast. So you go pay the vouchers."

  "Sanchez-"

  "Last instructions. Tell Missing Persons they can wipe this one out. And nothing else matters. Nine sharp doesn't matter. You know why?"

  "You-"

  "Well, I'll tell you why it doesn't matter. I don't work for you any more, Inspector. I'll clean out my desk tomorrow and have the resignation on your desk tomorrow. For my gun kindly apply to the Pennsylvania State Police. How's that for a midnight present?"

  He was silent.

  "Do I ring any bells?" I said. "To phrase it better, are there any bells to ring?"

  The receiver went down. I hung mine up. I put my arms behind my head. Should I give nursey a call when I got to New York and tell her not to waste time going to Kennedy Airport? I had better. The rest of her life would be up to her, the poor slob. She might want to cry on my shoulder, but I wasn't any good for that. I'd just give her a phone call.

  So who was ahead?

  Hanrahan? Yes.

  The PC? Definitely. No more little packages in the mail.

  Dr. Lyons? Yes and no.

  Me? That was a hard one to answer.

  La Duquesa de Bejar? I think yes.

  It was all a great puzzle. I got up and walked outside. The moon had set. I lit a cigarette and looked up at the great mystery overhead. It
was a good time to sit down somewhere and watch a river flow to the sea.