by Russell Hill
“You’ve got the wrong person.”
“You said that the last time you saw me. And just like that time, I have the right person. There’s no point in denying what you did. The car you clipped was occupied by my daughter. She died, drowned in that water. And you simply drove on.”
“You’re mistaken.”
“No, I’m not fucking mistaken. You know I’m not mistaken. And I want you to admit what you did or I will put a bullet in your brain.”
He placed his hands on the arms of his chair.
“You want me to admit to something that I never did?”
His voice was level. I knew that he was this kind of man. I knew that he was used to talking his way out of difficult positions, lying, weaseling, using his charm. But I also knew that he was the worm at my feet, ignorant of what he was doing, confident that he could somehow work his way out of this predicament, and when I struck, he would suddenly realize that he was the intended victim.
“You drove around a curve, clipped a car, it pinwheeled into the water. That’s what the man who witnessed it said. A black Ford Expedition. And you drove on and the next day you had your car repaired and you gave a fake name and a fake address. Is it coming back to you, asshole?”
He looked at me, and I realized that he was calculating how much this would cost him.
“You want me to pay for your daughter’s accident?”
“No, I want you to admit that you killed her and drove away, and tried to hide the fact that you are an unscrupulous son of a bitch who thinks he can buy his way out of anything. Even the death of a young woman.”
“What do you want of me?”
“I want you to admit that you did that careless act and tried to cover it up and then I will kill you.”
Now he was visibly agitated.
“There’s no reason to kill me. Yes, I clipped another car. I had no idea that I had done more than casual damage. You can’t be serious!”
”Admit it,” I said
Now I heard the other noises, cars arriving. Fuller was here. It had to be Fuller. He was the one who would know that I would be either in Winslow’s house or trying to get into Winslow’s house.
“The cavalry has arrived,” I said.
“There are two men on this floor. They are at the front of the house, not twenty steps from here. If you shoot me, they will come running and you will be a dead man.”
“You know anything about birds?” I could hear voices now, at the front door. But they had no idea that I was in the study with Winslow.
“Not much. Why?”
“There’s a bird that is a stalker. It moves silently and when it finds the thing it wants to eat, it remains motionless until the thing is right where it wants it and then it strikes. Right now I have you right where I want you. I should have done this in the first place. I want to hear the words, ‘Yes, I did it. I killed your daughter. I was careless and I killed her.’ Those words. Nothing else.”
“I can pay you a substantial amount of money. Enough to last the rest of your life. More money than you have ever dreamed.”
“You know that I will go back to prison. You contacted Detective Fuller. You put the finger on me. You know what happened. You know they sent me to prison. And somehow here I am. Right now you’re trying to buy time, to keep me at bay until they come back here to tell you that I am on the loose again. So no more bullshit. Say the words.”
The voices were louder and I thought I recognized Fuller’s voice.
I crossed to where Winslow sat and pressed the barrel of the guard’s gun against his temple. “If they come through that door, I will pull the trigger. Call out to them, tell them to stay where they are.”
He hesitated and I tapped him sharply on the skull with the barrel, applying it again to his skin.
“Back here,” he called loudly “I’m in the study. And he’s here with me and he has a gun, so don’t come in. He has a gun to my head and he says if you open the door he will shoot.”
Fuller’s voice was suddenly loud just outside the door.
“You know who this is,” he said. “I have three deputies with me and there are two of Winslow’s bodyguards. We’re all armed. If anything happens to him, you’re a dead man.”
“That’s what Winslow said,” I replied. “Right now the son of a bitch is trying to buy his way out of this. He thinks a cash settlement will make everything OK. How fucking dumb is he?”
“If you want to get out of this alive, put the gun down, put your hands on top of your head and come to the door. Tell me when you are at the door. I will open the door and if your hands are on top of your head, you will remain alive. If they are not, then we will open fire. Is that clear?”
“I assume you’re not clutching an old man’s walker, Detective.”
“You don’t need to die,” Fuller said. “This is another threat to a man’s life and you know how that works. If he isn’t hurt, then all you have to face is another threat charge and the escape from the prison bus. Your fucking lawyer will make another deal. Don’t do anything foolish.”
Winslow was shaking at this point, and his breath was coming in gasps.
Fuller’s voice again.
“There’s no need for this to end badly.”
No, it would end appropriately. I pointed the gun at Winslow’s waist and said, “I need a hundred dollars.”
He reached for his wallet.
“Put it on the desk,” I said. He placed his wallet on the green blotter.
“Now the hundred.”
He unfolded the wallet and took out five one hundred dollar bills.
“No, just a hundred.”
He picked up one of the bills and held it out. I took it in my left hand, made my hand into a fist with the bill clutched in it.
“Fuller,” I called out. “The clothes I’m wearing belong to a farmer near Colusa. I hijacked his truck. There’s a hundred dollar bill in my left hand to pay for his clothes and his boots. You got that?”
“We can give his clothes to him.”
“No, that won’t work. You give him the hundred, OK?”
“OK. Now come to the door.”
“Say the words,” I said to Winslow.
I had the gun to his head again.
“The words?”
“Yes, say those words.”
“I caused the accident.”
“No, say the words. I killed your daughter.”
His voice shook as he said, “Please don’t shoot.”
“Say the words.”
“I killed your daughter.”
I thought of the tall egret that stood behind the farmer in the rice field near Colusa. I could see it clearly, and I knew that it would find a crawdad in the water at the edge of the field and it would strike. lts beak would puncture the shell and it would raise its beak, toss the creature into the air and catch it so that it could swallow it whole. Then I pulled the trigger. The noise was deafening in that room and before it died the door burst open and they began to fire. I could feel the beak puncture his chest, go straight into his heart. I imagined that I was upside down in a car with water rushing in. Then it was still again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RUSSELL HILL is the author of three Edgar-nominated novels as well as several other books. His work has been translated into French, German, Polish, Japanese, and Spanish, and one novel, The Lord God Bird, had been optioned for a movie. Hill is an avid fly fisherman, has written for outdoor magazines, and has taught writing for forty years. He and his wife still live in California where he has spent most of his life.
Other books by Russell Hill from Pleasure Boat Studio:
Deadly Negatives
The Dog Sox
The Lord God Bird
Tom Hall and The Captain of All These Men of Death
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