The Killing Edge

by Forrest, Richard;

  “I’m glad that at least I didn’t spoil your meal,” L.C. said to Toby Strickland in an attempt at social amends.

  “We had a good old fashioned New England lobster dinner,” Toby said. “That’s one thing I missed in Florida. You just can’t get proper lobster down there.”

  “Then you went to the End of the Pier?”

  The other woman nodded as the Stricklands moved into a pew midway down the church. They entered a pew opposite the Stricklands and sat on the aisle.

  At the far end of the nave two caskets had been placed below the pulpit. The robed minister entered through a narrow door behind the choir stalls and crossed to the pulpit.

  “Let us pray,” he began as heads bowed. The minister’s monotone reverberated through the church as L.C. listened without hearing. She looked across the aisle to see Herb Strickland with head unbowed as he stared intently at the two coffins.

  Herb’s lips parted, his respiration seemed to increase, and his eyes never left the coffins. L.C. shook her head—the idea was-too ridiculous.

  “We have come to inter two of our friends, husband and wife,” the minister continued as the eulogy rose and fell in a sing-song chant. L.C. turned toward Will who seemed intent on watching the ceiling. He looked down with a mock glare when she poked him in the ribs.

  “Did you get something to eat last night?”

  “Had two drinks and a club sandwich after you left the restaurant. Now shush.”

  She tried to turn her attention back to the eulogy, but the presence of Herb Strickland across the aisle had become disconcerting. He was still enraptured with the two coffins. His body bent forward and his intent gaze never wavered.

  “You must have seen the Stricklands come in the restaurant,” she whispered to Will.

  “No,” he said softly.

  A thin, angular man in a black suit who sat in the pew ahead turned and held his fingers to his lips. She plucked at Will’s sleeve and he shook his head.

  L.C. fell sideways and leaned the full weight of her body against Will. Alarmed, he turned and put his arm under her sagging weight. “What’s the matter?” he asked. The angular man turned toward them again.

  “I feel terribly faint … please take me out of here.”

  With L.C. leaning against him, and his arms around her, Will escorted her from the church. Heads turned and nodded in sympathy as they passed. She straightened up on the steps outside.

  “You needed air,” he said. “For a moment there I thought you were going to pass out.”

  “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

  “Then why the act?”

  “Did you or did you not see the Stricklands at the End of the Pier last night?”

  “I told you no. Now what is this?”

  “I had to get out of there. I think we have the answer.”

  “What in hell are you talking about?”

  “How long were you in the restaurant?”

  “For about an hour after you left. I had just gotten home when you came to the house.”

  “Would you have noticed them if they were there?”

  “Of course. Toby’s been in Florida, and I would have stopped at their table to say hello.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “For God’s sake, L.C. I’ve been a cop my whole adult life.”

  “They killed him, Will. Herb and Toby Strickland killed Herb’s father.”

  “I think you’re coming down with something.”

  “And Herb killed Mauve.”

  “Mauve may have had a lover that day, but it certainly was not pompous Herb with his 240 pounds of flab. Mauve liked him all right, but not that much man. You can’t possibly be serious in thinking that Mauve and Herb had something going?”

  “I think the body under the pier was Wadsworth Strickland, and that Mauve fell through the ice like I did and they had to kill her.”

  “That’s crap. In the first place, it’s an incontrovertible fact that a funeral service was held at this very church for Wadsworth Strickland and that you and I attended it.”

  “We attended a memorial service for Wadsworth. His ashes were supposedly scattered at sea. No one ever saw the body. There wasn’t any coffin under the pulpit at that service, Will. No one ever saw the body. They killed him and told everyone that he died in Florida and was cremated.”

  “And that was Wadsworth’s body under the pier along with Hal Warren and the sixty-five foot boat?”

  “Hal could be on an extended trip like you’ve been saying.”

  “You know something, L.C.? Everytime someone says boo to you, you accuse them of murder. Your list of suspects seems to grow longer and longer each day, and now you’re even inventing murders in order to increase the size of your list. We’re going to stop this nonsense. You see that building across the street?”

  “Police headquarters?” He took her arm and began to lead her across the street.

  “Come on.”

  “I know. You’re going to book me.”

  “For craziness.”

  Once they reached his office, it took Will less than ten minutes to reach the authorities in Pinellas County, Florida.

  “Yes, that’s right. Wadsworth Strickland. He died down there a few weeks ago.… I’ll hold.” He looked at L.C. sitting on the couch. “We can settle this Strickland matter in five minutes. And because I love you, I’ll put a trace out on Hal Warren’s boat. Then we can close the whole matter.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Yes, I’m Chief Barnes,” Will said back into the telephone. “He did.… I see … and there was an attending doctor?… His name?” He wrote on the pad. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” He hung up and handed the pad to L.C. “Wadsworth Strickland was taken ill at his home in Florida, his daughter-in-law, Toby, was with him and he was under the constant care of Doctor Aldis Hoover who also signed the death certificate. The remains were taken to the Peninsula Funeral Home. It’s a matter of record. L.C. Strickland died of natural causes in Florida.”

  Chapter Eleven

  She sat in the corner of the front seat during the short drive from police headquarters to Converse Motors. Will kept glancing at her with a worried look. “I don’t know why you’re so disappointed because a man died of natural causes.”

  “It would have explained a great deal. You know, the Stricklands still lied about being in the restaurant.”

  “They could have been mistaken. I could have been mistaken. You might have misunderstood Toby. A lot of reasons that are hardly evidence.”

  “You said you were positive that they weren’t in the restaurant.”

  “Which immediately makes you jump to the conclusion that they were busy moving bodies.”

  “It’s possible.”

  He stopped the car in front of the automobile showroom and put his hand on her arm. “I learned something very early in police work. People lie: they lie to cops, they lie to each other, and they lie to themselves. If I suspected dire crimes in every inconsistency I heard in the course of a day’s work, I’d need the state police, the F.B.I. and the C.I.A. to help me investigate a thousand phantom crimes.”

  “Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

  “Do what? Get a search warrant to go through the Strickland house and see if they’ve got Dad stuck in a closet?”

  “What about Dore?”

  “I have no reason to even talk to her.”

  “Hal Warren is missing.”

  “Warren drew money out of the bank and took his boat South. Before the day is out I’ll find out where he is. O.K.?”

  She kissed him. “It’s a step.”

  Will waved and drove away from the agency parking lot. She walked into the empty showroom. Sighing, she went to her office and made a great pretense of searching for her keys and fumbling at the door.

  Vic Mange was sitting behind the desk with Jane Ellen, a dictation pad on her knee, in the chair before him. Vic looked up and waved. “Hi, L.C. I just borrowed your de
sk to get some paperwork out of the way.”

  “How’re sales?”

  “Slow. The weather really hurt us for the week, but we’re selling a lot of snow tires.”

  Vic and Jane Ellen scurried from the room. “Jane Ellen.”

  The young secretary paused expectantly in the doorway. “Yes, Miz Converse?”

  “You’ve got your blouse inside out, dear.”

  She sat behind the desk and flipped through the mail, signed a purchase order and initialed a contract. Going into the showroom she waved at Vic and a customer and entered the service area.

  Eddie was at the far end of the room, clipboard in hand, talking to a mechanic. One of her knees began to tremble as she felt a deep flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. She turned quickly and left the service area, continued through the showroom and left by the front door.

  She would go to the Warren house and tow in the wrecked Bentley. She took field glasses from the glove compartment of her car, climbed into the wrecker and started for the point. As she drove, she rolled down the side window and let cold air blow against her face. She felt juvenile and sophomoric, as if her reactions were closer to those of a fifteen year old than an adult.

  L.C. sighed. Her leg gave a twinge as she threw the truck into high gear and drove faster than she should.

  The Bentley was still flush against the wall of the house. She backed the wrecker into the drive and lowered the chain lift. Adjusting the chain on the Bentley and raising the rear wheels, she put the wrecker in forward and pulled the smashed car a few feet away from the front of the house.

  With the field glasses dangling from her neck she went around the corner of the house and climbed up on the wall that faced the estuary. Turning toward the Strickland and Bridger houses, she adjusted the glasses to her eyes and brought them into focus.

  The sea crashed on the rocks below and threw spray toward her. She looked down, realized she had a slight touch of vertigo, and looked away. It was important to avoid looking down at the rocks and keep her attention on the homes across the estuary.

  The dock was in the glasses’ field of vision. If it were dark, and the light were on at the end of the pier, she would have been clearly visible from the Warren house as she walked out on the ice and fell into the water.

  Hands pushed at her back and she swayed out over the wall. Cement crumbled under her foot and fell toward the water as she fought for balance.

  A hand grasped the back of her jacket and pulled her back off the wall. She fell in the snow.

  Dore Warren stood over her with a sardonic sideways grin that blurred her face. “Lose your wrecker, hon? It’s in the driveway attached to my car.”

  “You scared the living daylights out of me, Dore. You almost pushed me off the edge.”

  “Some you win, some you lose. Come on in and have a drink.”

  “It’s a little early in the day.”

  The large woman bent over, grasped L.C.’s hand and jerked her to her feet. “No excuses. Consider it a tip for excellent service.”

  L.C. dutifully followed the other woman into the house toward the room with the bar and trophies. The last thing in the world she wanted at eleven in the morning was a martini. Part of the drink splattered over her fingers as it was placed in front of her.

  “If I wanted to find Hal, where would you suggest I look?”

  “I’d tell you, but it’s dirty.”

  “He’s that much of a tom cat?”

  “Men of inherited wealth have hobbies. Hal had two that worked together. The boat and girls.”

  “You really are bitter.”

  “Bitter? Me? Now why do you say that? Just because the bastard took me when I was still young and pretty enough to make a life, and used me until I bored him, and then made a fool of me in front of half the town … Why, L.C., that’s no cause for bitterness. That’s cause to kill the son of a bitch.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Give me a chance.” The large blond laughed. “Come on, hon. You don’t really believe that I’d do that to good old lovable Hal, do you? Why, he’s a prince of the earth, a veritable Messiah for anything in skirts. Think what a disservice I’d be doing all womankind.”

  “What about Mauve Bridger?”

  “What about her? Although she’s another case in point.”

  “How so?”

  “A bitch. Or didn’t I tell you that?”

  “The night Mauve was killed, you left the cocktail party at seven and didn’t get home until nine.”

  “I blacked out.”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “Not a damn thing until I smashed the car into the wall.” She walked over to the trophy case and took a pair of figure skates from a bottom drawer. She ran her hand over the tip of one of the blades. “Once I had my arm slashed skating. I fell in a crowded rink and some idiot ran right over me. It cut to the artery and I almost bled to death until someone thought to put on a tourniquet. In all honesty, it never occurred to me to kill someone with a skate.”

  “I would imagine it would be a horrible way to die.”

  “I suppose. Pity, I don’t remember what happened that night.”

  The two women looked at each other until Dore smiled and reached under the counter for another bottle.

  A faint scratch at the outside of the apartment door made her reluctantly leave the dream. She stretched cat-like on the couch as the pictures dissolved. It had been filled with fast cars that drove without sound and a man who looked like Eddie and yet spoke like Will.

  She heard it again. Someone was picking at the lock. She slid out of her loafers and off the couch. She had dozed for over an hour and it was dark outside. She tiptoed into the bedroom and went to the night table where she kept her father’s revolver. The drawer was empty, and then she remembered that Raleigh had taken the gun and it had been impounded by the police.

  The noise at the lock was clearer now and she knew what it was. Years ago her father had showed her a set of lock picks and told her how a decent burglar could open any door in five minutes or less.

  It would take too long to phone for help, and he’d be in the apartment before help came anywhere near arriving. Going back to the living room she picked up the metal figurine of Don Quixote from the top of the bookcase. Standing by the door she raised the metal figure over her head.

  The lock clicked and the door handle slowly turned. Her arm tensed as the door swung open.

  As he stepped through the door, L.C. brought the metal figure down with all her might and caught Will Barnes on the shoulder.

  “Hey, damn it! That hurts.”

  “What in God’s name are you doing breaking into my apartment?”

  “I came to attack you.”

  “You could have called from downstairs and I’d have the door open and my clothes off. Why the burglar tools?”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Oh, my God! Will Barnes, you’re tight.”

  “Just a little.”

  As she closed and locked the apartment door he swayed slightly and put one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Oh, boy,” he whistled. “I think I am a little drunk.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Not even married and she starts in on me,” he, moaned to the wall. “To a bar, in fact to every bar in Lantern City. Have you ever stopped to consider what problems a police chief encounters if he wants to get laid?”

  “Not really.”

  “You ought to. It’s terrible. If I talk to some girl at the bar, she excuses herself and goes to the ladies room and never comes back. They all think I’m out to bust them for soliciting. If I go into a massage parlor they break out the wintergreen and everyone starts jogging.”

  “Tomcatting over Lantern City doesn’t sound like you.”

  “That’s because it isn’t true. I stopped in for a beer at the Kumm Inn and was offered a five dollar chance in the pool being run at Converse Motors.”

  “
Oh, that pool.”

  “That one. I’ve got the fourteenth day. Tell me, Laura, is fourteen a good day for you to get …”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “I bet he wouldn’t fall asleep like some people I know.”

  “So that’s why you came to attack me?”

  “Decidedly not,” he said with great care as he crossed the room and sat stiffly in an easy chair. “I have come to make an honest woman of you. I have come to make it all legal.”

  “I think you proposed the other day.”

  “But …” he drew out. “I did not have a ring. I now have a ring.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small ring box which he placed ceremoniously on the coffee table. “Which is why I was sneaking in here. I was going to put it next to your bed and kiss you. Then I would attack you.’

  “That would have made my day. I’ve already almost been pushed off a sea wall. You would have scared me to death.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. You didn’t go out and buy a ring?”

  “I did. Called Jake the jeweler and had him come down and open the store.”

  “If he goes to the first selectman about that you’re sunk.”

  “And I bought a diamond—on credit.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Don’t you want to see it?”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Will.”

  “Some girls won’t go to bed until the ring and all that.”

  “You didn’t have to buy me a ring just to make love to me. I’ve already said I would.”

  “You never said when. I retire from the force in another fifteen years.”

  “We’ll do it now.” She opened the ring box and looked with mixed feelings at the small solitaire. “It’s lovely. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Put it on and don’t say anything except yes.”

  “I can’t say that—not just yet. I don’t think I should put it on until I do.”

  He looked hurt and shrugged. “Put it away until you make up your mind.”

  “Thank you for the thought and the asking.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Ugh!”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s your beer breath.” She hurried to the kitchen, put the ring box on a shelf, and rumaged through a cabinet until she found a bottle of scotch. She poured a drink and went back to the living room. “If we’re going to bed, I want my breath to smell like yours.”