by Ed Gorman
'Tell me about her.'
'No, you tell me about her.' He felt anxious suddenly, and angry that his boss hadn't explained why he'd called. 'Why are you asking about her?'
'Her former business partner was killed tonight and I understand she was up in his office around the time it happened. Her name was in his appointment book.'
'Are you talking about Eric Brooks?'
'One and the same.'
'Killed?'
'Stabbed to death. Stabbed several times, in fact. I'm told the crime scene is a real mess.'
'You're not telling me you think Jill had something to do with this, are you?'
'All I know, Mitch, is one of the homicide boys said that he thought you'd known her at one time and would I call you and get your general impressions.'
'My general impressions are all favorable. She's a very nice, kind, appealing woman.'
'Sounds like you might be sorry you're not still seeing her.'
'I am, as a matter of fact.'
'Well, we'll have to ask her some questions.'
'I'm sure she'll be happy to cooperate.'
'She got a temper?'
'Not a very bad one.'
'She really hated this guy, huh?'
'Hated is a little strong. She didn't admire him much.'
'Then why'd she go see him tonight?'
'As you said, you'll have to ask her some questions.'
'I'd invite you along but I don't think that'd be a good idea. Professionally speaking, I mean.'
'Neither do I.'
The Lieutenant paused. 'Now don't go gettin' all bent out of shape about this next question, all right?'
'I'm ahead of you. As far as I know, they were never lovers.'
'You pretty sure of that?'
'Pretty sure, yes. I mean, I think he hit on her a lot but it didn't do any good.'
'When he hit on her, would that get her pretty stirred up, you think?'
'If you mean angry, yes, I suppose it did. But not angry enough to stab him.'
'Are you sure about that?'
'I told you, Lieutenant, she's not the type.'
'I appreciate the information, Mitch.'
'She's a very nice woman. Tell homicide to take it easy with her.'
'Like I said earlier, I guess it's a good thing you're not going along.'
'Yeah,' Mitch said. 'I guess it is.'
After hanging up, he put in a different tape and lay back down again. But not even Daffy Duck's famous lisp could amuse him now.
More than he wanted to admit, he was concerned about Jill Coffey.
CHAPTER 36
Cini was just opening her second box of Good n' Plentys when the phone rang in her apartment.
'Hi, honey. We were just wondering how you were doing.'
Oh great, just what she needed. Mom and Dad. Much as she loved them, she hated the way they constantly called to see what she was up to. She'd once overheard them refer to her to a next door neighbor as their 'problem child.' And she'd resented them ever since.
'I'm doing fine.'
'You sound funny.'
'I do?'
'Like you're eating something.'
'Oh. Right. Yes, I've got something in my mouth.'
'Your mouth?'
'A Good n' Plenty.'
'A Good n' Plenty? I didn't think you ate things like that anymore. You remember what Dr Steiner said.'
'''Well-balanced food cuts down on the craving for junk food, Cini." And Dr Steiner didn't say it, you did.'
'I really don't appreciate that tone of voice, Cini. I am, after all, your mother. And the man standing next to me is, after all, your father.'
'Yes, and I am, after all, your daughter.'
'I don't appreciate being mocked, either. I'm going to put your father on the line.'
Ultimate threat. At least, when Cini was growing up: I'm going to put your father on the line.
Her father came on the line.
'Is everything all right, honey?'
Oh yes, Daddy, everything's just fine. I had oral sex with a man just so I could get into a commercial, and now I'm starting to pig out again. Everything's just fine. Oh, and I almost forgot: I saw that same man get murdered tonight.
'Everything's fine.'
'I really don't appreciate it when you upset your mother.'
Cini sighed. 'I'm having a hard time right now, Daddy, that's all.'
'Then for God's sake, Cini, when you're having a hard time, why don't you call us and tell us about it?' Pause. 'What're you eating?'
'A Good n' Plenty.'
He inflected it just as her mother had done. 'A Good n' Plenty?'
'A pink one.'
'Honey, Good n' Plentys aren't exactly what Dr Steiner had in mind when he put you on that maintenance diet after your accident.'
'I'm only eating one.'
'Scout's Honor?' God, that was so Daddy, asking Scout's Honor, the way he used to when she was eight.
'Two, then.'
'Two?'
'I've had three, Daddy. But I'm crumpling up the box and throwing the rest away. Can you hear me crumpling the box?' She put the Good n' Plenty box next to the receiver and started twisting and mashing it. 'Can you hear that?'
'I just don't want to see you start overeating again. You were so happy there for such a long time. And you looked so good.'
'I won't start again,' Cini said, feeling sorry for him. That was the weird thing, no matter how hard she tried she couldn't feel sorry for her mother. But Daddy she could feel sorry for all the time. 'I really won't, Daddy.'
'I'm taking you at your word, honey.'
'You should.'
'I want to put your mother on now and I want you to apologize to her.'
'I didn't do anything to apologize for, Daddy.'
But she could picture him. He'd be looking furtively at his wife and smiling, pretending that everything was just fine on the phone, pretending that Cini just couldn't wait to apologize and be all smiles again.
Cini smiled at this sad but endearing image of her father. 'All right, Dad. Put her on.'
She could hear her mother whispering protesting in the background. She didn't want to talk to Cini anymore than Cini wanted to talk to her. Finally, she took the phone. 'You know how it upsets your father when we argue.'
This was about as close as her mother would ever come to apologizing.
'I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just feeling down, I guess.'
'Any reason in particular? Is it Michael?'
'I think Michael and I are all through.'
'He didn't look like a very serious young man to me, Cini.'
'I know, Mom. You told me that many times.'
'And whatever's making you depressed, Good n' Plentys aren't going to help.'
'I know that, Mom.' She decided to tell a whopping big lie, one that would make them all feel better and get her mother off the phone very quickly. 'This talk has helped a lot.'
'It has?'
'Uh-huh.'
'So you're really going to throw those Good n' Plentys away?'
'Uh-huh.'
'And get back on that diet Dr Steiner put you on?'
'Uh-huh.'
'That makes me feel much better, Cini.'
'Me, too, Mom.'
'Your father and I love you very much.'
'I know you do.'
'Now you sleep tight.'
'And don't let the bedbugs bite. That's what you always used to say.'
'G'night, Cini.'
'G'night, Mom.'
Soon as she'd hung up the phone, Cini tore into the Good n' Plentys. Then she started on a pint of the Haagen Daz strawberry ice cream. She had a long way to go before she finished eating everything she'd bought earlier tonight.
CHAPTER 37
The drill is the most frightening of all his surgical instruments in appearance. Difficult to imagine how the human body, so delicate and vulnerable, could possibly withstand an assault with a 3/8?? Skil model running 110 volts with a
bit that looks capable of ripping through steel.
The surgeon wraps his hand around the drill handle.
The drill is his favorite of all instruments.
And so he begins.
CHAPTER 38
Adam's new friend had gone to sleep in the bedroom. Adam came walking out, buttoning his shirt, ready to leave.
He looked out the window to the phone booth on the street below. He'd call Rick Corday from there. Rick had been pretty upset about finding that note from Adam's one-night stand in Miami. Rick was such a child. He could never seem to grasp that loving somebody was very different from merely sleeping with someone.
As he found his trench coat and let himself out the door, Adam also started wondering how things had gone tonight with Eric Brooks. Not exactly a good time for Rick to be upset, his mind wandering, or his need for violence to surge again.
Much as Adam felt superior to Ricksmarter, better organized, far more focused, certainly more mature and, let's face it, much better-lookinghis mate had one area of clear superiority: he loved violence far more than Adam ever would.
Adam and Rick had met in a gay bar in Chicago and then started hanging out. This was four years ago. One night several weeks into their relationship, Rick saw a young woman walking alone on a dark street and he said, 'You ever thought of killing anybody?'
'Sure. Who hasn't?'
'What if I told you that I've already killed somebody. In fact, several somebodies.'
Adam, who was driving, smiled. 'What if I told you that I'd killed a few people, too?'
'Really?'
'Really.'
'God, that's fantastic.'
Adam, ever the cynic, said, 'What if one of us is lying?'
'Huh?'
'What if I'm telling you the truth but you're lying?'
'That I didn't really kill people before?'
'Right. Then I'd be confessing to murderand you'd just be lying.'
'Sort of like Strangers on a Train.' Rick smiled. 'But I really have killed somebody.'
'So have I,' Adam said. 'But how're we going to prove it?'
'Two blocks back.'
'What?'
'That chick. Two blocks back. That's how we're going to prove it.'
'What about her?'
'Let's go back and get her.'
'You're serious?' Adam said.
'Very serious.'
'Then what?'
'Take her out to the country and kill her.'
'Just like that?'
'Just like that. We're supposed to be killers, remember?'
A few minutes later they came around the corner of the block where the woman was walking.
'Go past her,' Rick instructed. 'Drive down to the next block. There's an alley there.'
'Good idea.'
Adam drove down to the alley, turned in and then parked the car in deep shadow. He killed the lights but left the motor running.
They got out of the car. it was misting. The alley smelled sweet-and-sour of garbage. A tomcat came down it carrying a mouse in his mouth.
They walked up to the edge of the alley. Pressed themselves flat against the wall. Listened hard for footsteps.
Nothingnothingthen
Footsteps.
High heels.
Coming fast.
Coming right toward them.
Adam thought how crazy it was. He was really going to kill somebody again. The ultimate risk…
'Let her get past us a couple of feet,' Rick hissed.
Adam nodded, his heart slamming against his chest. God, if something went wrong
But it went just fine.
When she got three feet past them, Rick virtually leapt on her, clamping his hand over her mouth and dragging her back into the alley.
As soon as they were in shadow, Adam grabbed the woman's feet. They carried her quickly to the car.
Adam set her feet down and popped open the trunk.
Rick picked up a loose brick from the alley and smashed it against the side of the woman's head. She went limp.
They got her in the trunk and drove away.
Rick gave directions. They drove for nearly an hour, finally coming to a stop at a deserted stone mansion. Rick explained that it had once been an artists' colony but had burned down. A huge red barn, sagging westward now with age, sat adjacent to the charred and empty mansion.
Adam drove into the barn.
He climbed out into darkness. The barn smelled of wet hay and animal feces.
They got the woman out of the trunk and took her into one of the stalls where horses once slept.
She was still breathing, but not with any great energy or regularity.
Rick found a rusted lantern and got it going, hanging it on a peg above the woman.
Adam watched as Rick ripped all the woman's clothes off and then proceeded to rape her. All the time he was having her he was also hitting her, again and again and again in the face until nothing recognizable was left of her looks. Adam wanted to say something but was, frankly, a little afraid of Rick at the moment.
When Rick was done, he stood up and nodded for Adam to take his turn. Adam's first impulse was to decline but then he felt that icy ripple of fear down his back.
This was one intense guy, this Rick.
Adam took his turn.
But he didn't hit her and he finished as quickly as he could.
When he was done, he stood up. Rick was gone.
The woman moaned.
From out of the darkness, Rick said, 'You want to finish her or shall I?'
'Be my guest.'
'Afraid, huh?'
'No, I'm not afraid.'
'You really kill somebody before?'
'Yes.'
'Then kill her.'
'Maybe you're the one who's afraid.'
Rick laughed. 'Hey, pal, we're talking about you here, not me. Finish her.'
'How?'
'However you want to.'
The others, he'd cut their throats. 'I don't have a knife with me.'
'Kick her.'
'Where?'
'Where the hell do you think kick her? In the head. Right about the temple.'
'In the head?'
'Sure. Just pretend you're punting a football.'
'You've done that before?'
'Two or three times.'
'What's it like?'
'You know, when your foot makes contact with the skullit's a real satisfying feeling.'
'Wow.'
'Do it.'
Adam nodded. Maybe it would be fun, after all.
He stepped up to the naked woman sprawled on the hay beneath him. Her face really was gone now, just blood and broken bones. Her moaning got fainter and fainter.
Rain pattered the leaky barn roof; a lonely dog barked somewhere nearby; the engine of a plane could be heard faintly, faintly.
'Go ahead.'
He was hesitant at first, self-conscious with Rick watching, but then he did it, one quick short violent kick, and he had to admit, it really was satisfying.
'Wow,' he said. 'You were rightabout how your toe feels when it connects with the skull.'
'Kick her again.'
'Really?'
'Sure. Probably take a couple times to do it right.'
He kicked her again.
This time her head canted a little, as if it wanted to roll away.
'You think she's dead?'
'Why don't you make sure?'
'You mean another one?'
Rick laughed. 'They don't cost you anything, do they?'
He kicked her again, just above the temple.
The tip of his toe felt her skull start to go this time.
'She's dead.'
'I'll make sure for you.'
'You want to kick her?'
'Sure,' Rick said.
He kicked very hard.
Blood started pouring from her nose.
'Man,' Adam said, 'you really gave it to her.'
Coming down the stairs n
ow, six blocks from a fashionable area of restaurants, Adam thought back to that night two years ago and shook his head. He enjoyed taking risks, but within reason.
But Rick, when he got down or depressed, or angry with something that Adam had done
Adam stood for a moment on the corner taking in the fresh night air. Well, as fresh as you were going to get in New York City, anyway.
The lighted phone booth reminded him of a million films noirs he'd seen over the years. How he loved them. Bogart. Robert Ryan. Lawrence Tierney (who maybe had the greatest noir face of all)…
Hearing his footsteps echo in the night, turning up the collar of his trench coat, tilting his head against the bitter wind… he felt like a character in a film noir himself.
When he got to the phone booth, Adam took out his wallet and his Ma Bell credit card and went to work.
Four minutes later their phone was ringing back in Chicago.
Ringing and ringing and
Adam got a bad feeling.
He could see Rick being so upset about the latest of Adam's dalliances (well, the latest till he'd arrived here in New York) that his mate went out tonight and did something stupid.
Rick was always a wild card.
Always.
Adam replaced the receiver.
Then he was out of the booth and walking again, a character in a black-and-white film circa 1948, one with a lot of blue and lonely sax music…
CHAPTER 39
'Excuse me.'
Jill had been in the middle of buttering a piece of wheatbread she'd bought fresh from the bakery earlier that day, and exchanging some choice gossip with Kate, when her phone rang.
She picked it up. 'Hello?'
'Hi. It's me, Mitch.'
She glanced at Kate, feeling guilty, the way she had when her older brother always smirked about her boyfriends calling the house.
Kate seemed to know immediately who it was.
'I'm sort of busy right now, Mitch. Kate's here.'
'This is business. Jill.'
'Business?'
'Yes. You heard about Eric Brooks?'
'Yes.'
'Well, my boss is going to question you, probably later tonight.'
'Isn't that normal? I mean, I was up there, seeing Eric.'
'Anything noteworthy take place?'
'Not really. Excuse me a second.' She covered the yellow receiver, the yellow matching the walls of the kitchen, and said to Kate, 'The police are going to question me.'
