Guilt by Association

by Gilbert, Morris

  Finally, at dinnertime, Dani asked, “Can I talk to you again about this, Sid?”

  “Don’t see why not,” he mumbled. He ducked his head and shuffled off, but he was occupied with his thoughts all during the meal. After dinner, Dani said, “It’s Christmas Eve. I’d like to read the Christmas story before we go to bed.”

  “Forgot to hang up my stocking.” Lonnie grinned. “So let’s have the story.”

  “Karen, could we go back and gather around Vince?”

  “Might do him good.” Karen nodded. “He’s pretty low.”

  So they all filed back and took up stations around Vince’s bed. He was so weak that it was all he could do to lift a hand, but his eyes were fixed on Dani as she led them in a few carols. Karl sat on his bunk, saying nothing, but he joined in when they sang “Silent Night,” and even Rachel came to stand beside Lonnie and join in.

  Then Dani read the story from Luke, of the trip, long ago, from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Vince’s ragged breathing was the only sound besides her own. “And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

  She paused and said, “I guess that’s the epitaph for the whole world. God loves the world, sends His Son to die for their sins—and there’s no room for Him! And ever since that day,” she said gently, “Jesus has come again and again to the world—to every man and woman and child. And most people find they don’t have enough room for Him. But that’s what Christmas means: God has suddenly decided to step out on the stage and become part of the play. He came by birth, the same as every one of us. It wasn’t the kings and princes who welcomed him, but the simple people, the shepherds.”

  She closed her Bible and said, “We have no gifts for one another, do we? If we were outside, we’d probably have a pile of presents, all wrapped in foil. But not here. Yet I do have a gift, for each one of you—the only thing I have that hasn’t been stripped away. So may I give it to you now?”

  Dani moved to Vince’s bedside, stooped down, and kissed his cheek, whispering, “I love you, Vince!” When she straightened up, they all saw that two tears were rolling down the sick man’s cheeks, and his lips were quivering. Then Dani turned to Rachel, who crossed her arms and stared at her. Dani kissed her softly, and said, “And I love you, Rachel—very much!”

  Finally she made the full circle and stood there, her gray-green eyes luminous. “I haven’t been able to do that sort of thing very much,” she said very quietly. “It’s been hard for me to say what I feel. But I wanted all of you to know that God has given me a great love for each one of you.”

  She turned and walked away. Ben sat down beside Vince, and when the others had left, except for Karl, Vince said in a thin voice, “Savage, what is that dame? I never seen nothing like her!”

  Ben shook his head, his eyes hooded as he looked down at the big man. “I don’t know, Vince. But a man wouldn’t get bored around her, would he now?”

  “Come with me, Ben. I want to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” Ben got up, and the two of them went over to a pair of upholstered chairs. He waited for Dani to sit, took the other chair, and waited for her to speak.

  “I want to tell you three things,” she said. They were sitting at right angles to each other, and he could see her profile clearly. The sheer sweep of her cheek was intensely feminine, and there was a fragility about her, despite her tall stature.

  “First, I want to say, I never saw anything like what you did. Saving Bix, I mean.” She gave a slight shudder at the thought, adding, “The rest of us were cowards!”

  “Why, no—you just never were a part of a circus.” Ben moved his head in a circle, testing it, then drew her gaze. “Somebody’s always falling in the circus. Gets to be a habit to step in and break the fall. I saw the Bandinos fall once—five of them. They were riding cycles on the high wire, with no net. Something went wrong, and they all came down. Everybody beneath jumped to get under them—and that’s taking the cycles, too!”

  She listened to him, then shook her head. “I guess that’s so, but it made me feel terrible, Ben. Bix would be dead or mangled if you’d acted like the rest of us.”

  He was uncomfortable and asked quickly, “What’s the second thing?”

  “It’s—more personal,” she said, and he saw that her hands were nervously pulling at her sweater. Curiosity caught him, and he waited until she finally spoke. “You—kissed me once—and when I pulled away, you said something I can’t shake out of my mind. Do you remember what it was?”

  “I remember the kiss, but not what I said.”

  “You said, ‘You’ve got your own private ghosts.’” She turned and looked at him suddenly, her eyes fully open. Her lips were soft and vulnerable, and there was a pleading look in her expression. “You think I’m afraid of men, don’t you, Ben?”

  “The thought did cross my mind,” he admitted slowly. “There’s some sort of wall around you. Don’t know what it is, but it’s high and tough.”

  “That’s what I want to tell you about. I never thought I’d be saying this, Ben, because, because I never thought my—my feelings for you would be important. I thought we’d just go along, and you’d keep on thinking I was a hard-boiled woman without much heart, and I’d think you were just a tough hooligan with no heart at all! Well, I was wrong about you,” she said evenly. “You’re more than a hooligan.”

  “Maybe I am—maybe not.” He slipped lower in his chair and asked, “What’s the wall for, Dani?”

  “It’s there because I can’t afford to fall in love with any man,” she said quickly, as if afraid that she’d never get it out. “I don’t have the right to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve got something to do—and love and men can’t get in the way.” She took a deep breath, then began to speak rapidly. “A few years ago, Ben, I was all set. I had my CPA and a great career going with the attorney general. I started law school part-time, and I met a man who was in Hayworth Divinity School. His name was Jerry Hunt. He was a Christian, and I tried not to fall in love with him. But I couldn’t help myself! He was—” She ducked her head and was silent, then lifted her face to him.

  “He was a good man. More fun than any man I’d ever known, but at the same time, more dedicated. Good-looking, too, though I didn’t care about that. We worked very hard to keep from falling in love. I wasn’t going his way. He was a missionary volunteer to Africa. I was on the way to big money and big things. Well, somewhere along the line we fought each other to a standstill. I agreed to drop out of law school and go to seminary, so that I could marry him and go to Africa.”

  She paused and looked across the room, where the others huddled around a table. Lonnie and Bix were playing cards with Sid and Rachel, while Betty looked on. When she turned back, a strange quality filled her eyes, a regret that made her look vulnerable. “We loved each other, but we fought all the time! And I was always in the wrong. Always! Because he wanted nothing but to serve God—while I still wanted the things I’d given up.

  “So I’d get angry, and he’d never fight back. That made me feel just that much worse.” Memories came back to her, and she shook her head. “I never should have agreed to marry him, but I did. Almost a year after we met, we had a frightful quarrel, and this time Jerry did get upset. We’d been driving out on the freeway, and it just seemed to blow up in our faces. We found ourselves yelling at each other, and I told him he was nothing but a pious hypocrite. He turned white and began to tell me how wrong I was. So I yelled, ‘Stop the car!’ He didn’t, of course, so I reached over and turned the key off. That did make him mad. When the car stopped and I got out, he yelled at me—the only time he ever did! He went roaring off—driving like a madman and leaving me alone beside the freeway.”

  Suddenly she began to cry almost silently.

  “What happened?” Ben asked.

  “He had a—a head-on collision with a big truck!” Da
ni sobbed. “He died instantly!”

  He sat there, watching her as she bowed and put her face in her hands, sobbing helplessly. Finally she stopped and looked over at the group, but they had not noticed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I could speak about it without crying. Anyway, I nearly died myself—or wanted to. But when the first grief was gone, I knew what I had to do.” She faced him and said urgently, “I knew I had to take his place. That’s what I’m going to do, Ben—or was, until I wound up here. If I get out, I’m going to take Jerry’s place.”

  Ben stared at her. “Is that allowed? I mean, does God let people do that? I sort of thought that each one of us was special—that nobody could take another’s place?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about the theology,” she said wearily. “But there’s one less missionary in Africa because of me, I know that! So that’s why I didn’t like what happened to me when you kissed me. I can’t let you or any other man in my life. It belongs to God. I owe it to Him.”

  Ben sat there, looking at her, and she became restless under the hazel eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface. Finally he shook his head. “I’m just a roughneck, Dani. You’ve got all the fancy education; you’ve read all the books—but I think you’re all wrong. And if this guy could talk to you, he’d probably say the same thing I’d say: ‘Live your own life, Dani Ross.’ Because that’s all any of us can do.”

  She watched him, then stubbornly shook her head. Her mane of heavy hair glinted reddish as it moved, and she said, “I’ve got to do it, Ben. Not that there’s much chance of it now, but I wanted you to know.”

  He shrugged and asked. “What’s the third thing?”

  She pushed her hair back from her face with a nervous gesture, then looked straight into his eyes.

  “The third thing is, I know who the next victim is going to be.”

  A nerve twitched in Ben’s face, and he sat up suddenly. “What?”

  “Yes, I know.” Certainty rang in her voice like steel, and she warned him, “And I think I know who’ll be doing it, but the next victim will be—me!” She smiled at his expression, then sobered. “Listen carefully, Ben. . . .” For the next ten minutes, she spoke steadily.

  Finally he shook his head adamantly. “No!” But she continued to speak, and finally he found himself nodding. “All right—maybe it’ll work, but it’s risky!”

  “So is living, Ben.” Her long lips turned down suddenly, and she added, “So is love—but I guess we’re all” going to keep on doing both!” She rose, paused, then held out her hand. He took it with a look of surprise, and she said, “I’ve never been able to thank you for coming into this place, trying to get me out. I guess I never will—but what I said in the other room, I meant it, Ben. Good-bye!”

  She turned and walked away quickly. Stopping by the card players, she announced, “You can take all the baths you want—until eleven. Then I’m going to soak for two hours—so get your bathing done before that.” They all agreed, for most of them went to bed earlier. She sat down and took a hand, and finally Ben came over and joined the party.

  One by one, they all left. When Dani was alone, she looked toward the sleeping area, her eyes dark with a strange emotion. At eleven-thirty, she turned the lights out and went into the sleeping quarters. The other women were breathing steadily as she picked up her gown and robe, then moved into the bathroom.

  The shadowy figure’s feet made no sound as they moved lightly across the floor. Once, when a sleeper shifted, the figure froze until the regular breathing resumed. With catlike steps the stalker moved across the floor and placed one hand on the doorknob, pausing long enough to heft a short length of metal that was firmly grasped in the right hand.

  The door opened noiselessly, and with one quick, soundless motion the dark-clad intruder stepped inside and closed the door. A swift look at the other door, then a few steps on rubber-soled deck shoes. The shower curtains are around the tub—I didn’t think the wench would be so modest!

  Three more steps—and a careful grasp on the shower curtain.

  She’s quiet, maybe asleep—

  That would make it easier—

  Got to get her quiet, then hold her under for no more than a few minutes.

  The water was not on, nor was there any movement.

  She’s dozing in the tub!

  Now! Yank the shower curtain, and—

  Suddenly the killer stopped dead still, one hand still on the curtain, the other lifting the steel pipe, frozen into instant immobility, for it was not the woman, Dani Ross, inside, lying in a tub of hot water!

  Instead, Ben Savage was standing there, his hazel eyes bright and his mouth curved in a wide smile—and beside him, fully dressed, was Dani Ross!

  “Hi, Rachel,” Ben said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Ben’s little speech nearly cost him his life, for with a movement faster than a striking snake, Rachel slashed at his head; the steel grazed his temple before it crashed into the wall behind him.

  The blow, light as it was, sent an explosion of stars dancing through his brain. Sheer instinct made him counter with a slashing one of his own; the hard edge of his left hand caught Rachel a glancing blow in the temple, driving her to one side. Instantly Ben leaped out of the tub and halted just in time to avoid another slashing blow that would have crushed his throat, if it had landed.

  “You’re pretty good, Rachel.” Ben nodded. He lurched back as her foot came off the floor in a flash, catching him on the outside of his thigh. He grunted and countered with a feint at her face, but she drew back at once. He fell into the classic position, knees bent, knuckles ready at the end of his weaving arms, and twice she made a pass at him, which he warded off.

  “But I’m better,” he jibed.

  She cursed and fell into a defensive position, but even as she did, Ben whipped his foot up, catching her on the wrist holding the steel. The chisel flew through the air, striking the wall, and Dani, who had scrambled out of the tub, made a grab at it. She retrieved it then backed away to the left.

  Rachel wheeled and, almost quicker than Dani’s eyes could follow, threw a straight jab at Ben’s eyes. He moved his head to one side, caught her wrist, and with a quick movement flipped her over. Her back struck the floor with a dull thud, and her breath whistled out, but she at once rolled over, and her foot caught him in the stomach. Instantly she was on her feet and made a feint. As he followed it she stepped to the side and threw her arm around his neck, her forearm instantly cutting off his wind. He reached back over his head, but she was too wily for that and ducked.

  The pair careened around the room until the lights started going out for Ben and a curtain of red descended as his lungs cried out for oxygen. Dani saw his face beginning to turn crimson and leaped forward, lifting the chisel. Rachel sensed her movement and managed to twist around. Releasing one hand, she delivered a stunning blow to the side of Dani’s neck, which drove her against the wall. Rachel tried to recapture her hold on Savage, but the diversion had enabled him to recover. He reached up, pulled her arm away, then gave a great twisting lunge that threw her to one side.

  He was off balance, and she sent a powerful kick at his groin, but Ben took the blow on his thigh and in return lashed a fierce backhand. The hard edge of his hand caught her on the forehead, and she went down instantly, her eyes dulled.

  Ben reached down and put a come-along hold on her right fingers, and she rose up with a cry of pain as he applied the pressure. “You’re good, sweetheart,” he said in his best imitation of Humphrey Bogart. “You’re real good!”

  Dani was getting to her feet, holding her neck painfully. “Ben, are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Little Miss Muffet here finally found a spider, but she couldn’t run away.”

  Rachel cursed and tried to pull away, but he lifted her with the come-along grip, and her voice was cut off sharply. Ben reached into his pocket and tied her hands together with a piece of wire, then stepped back.

  The room was sudden
ly crowded, and Dani held up her hand, saying, “Everyone into the rec room.”

  When they were there, Ben said, “You were right on the nose, boss. Real good sleuthing.” He told the crowd, who were staring at Rachel, how the capture had been made. “Dani knew she was the next victim, and she knew the killer would drown her in the tub—if he could. So I agreed to take her place. She opened the men’s door, and I slipped in.”

  “How’d you know that stuff, Dani?” Sid asked in awe.

  “Sit down, and I’ll tell you about it.” They each took a seat, and Dani smiled as she continued, “I didn’t know for sure who the killer was, but I knew I was next, and I knew it had to be in the bathroom.” Her face grew sad, and she said quietly, “If I’d been smart enough, I could have saved Candi’s life—maybe even Rosie’s.

  “The key was in those wild speeches Stone makes. They’re all filled up with a lot of junk, but I’ve studied them for days, trying to find out something. There was something odd about them—and I just couldn’t get it! Until last night, in his speech, it all fell together. Strange how simple complicated things are when you have the key!”

  “What was it, Dani?” Karl asked.

  “Two things,” she answered. “In every speech he mentioned the name of the person who was going to be the next victim. It was usually buried in a lot of other meaningless material, but it was always there.”

  “I don’t remember his mentioning Alex’s name,” Karen said.

  “He didn’t exactly—but he said, ‘Unlike Alexander, who grieved because he had no worlds to conquer. . . .’ I’d never have remembered it, if I hadn’t transcribed the speech and gone over it again and again.”

  “What was the other clue, Dani?” Bix asked. He was staring at Rachel with an unbelieving stare, but turned his face toward the speaker.

  “In every speech he told us how the next victim would be murdered. I know that sounds impossible, but he did it by using quotes from Shakespeare’s tragedies. He used lines from a play, and then the victim was murdered as a character in that play was murdered! For example, in the speech naming Alex, he used two lines from Romeo and Juliet, ‘He jests at scars that never felt a wound,’ and ‘What’s in a name?’ and he also used the name of Romeo. And Romeo,” she said slowly, “died of poison.”