by Allan Retzky
“But if not now, then when? I really do need to go back to Geneva in the next few weeks.”
“I know, but I won’t risk the possibility of putting you in any danger. It’s neither smart nor department policy.”
“So that’s it? The whole idea to try and trap one of these people is over. Just like that. After all the planning and your meetings with your superiors.”
She pauses for a breath, but Wisdom is silent.
“You’re telling me it’s all over. I’ll go back home and never know what happened.”
“That’s not true. We’ll continue to look into this. Fact is, I’m planning to stop by the local guy’s house sometime later today. Maybe the doctor might even show up. Anyway, I’ll stay on this disappearance till we find out what happened to her. Believe me.”
“I do believe you, Detective; I’m just not satisfied with your decision.”
Wisdom hears the connection go dead, but if it hadn’t, and he understood her faintly mumbled mixture of Farsi and German, he would have heard Brigid speak aloud to herself about what she planned to do next without his help.
CHAPTER 18
The decision makes her a bit nervous, yet she continues to plan details without hesitation. She will wear “the dress.” That’s what she’s come to call it, “the dress.” She pulls it from the closet and checks the seams and length. She’s only worn it that one time when Wisdom came to the house. She did feel dirty as she told him, but she also felt that it gave her a different look and ultimately a power she’d never experienced before.
She lays the dress out on the bed together with a bra designed to enhance her cleavage. She knows the effect it had on Wisdom and assumes it will be the same with the others. She’s already showered and washed her hair. There is nothing more to do now except dress, but first she kisses her ears with a daub of Heidi’s favorite Lanvin perfume. In minutes she’s ready.
Her rented car, an Audi A-4, sits in the driveway. She hasn’t used it much, trips to the supermarket and post office, one dinner meeting with Vice Consul Weis and a whirlwind tour of four art galleries on a rainy Saturday afternoon. She would have liked to have spent more time with Peter Wisdom. More social time, but she knows he’s married, and apparently happily so, and she is not like Heidi. Definitely not like Heidi. Most of her days are spent sitting right there with a view of the ocean and a book in her lap. She knows it’s time to go back to her life in Geneva. There is nothing more here for her other than pain, and so it’s time to end it all.
She moves to the small desk near the front door and lifts a large manila envelope. Inside sits a folded map of the area with two circled addresses. There is also a sheet of paper with three names complete with addresses and phone numbers. The names are Stern, Welbrook, and Posner. She ignores Stern’s Manhattan address and concentrates on the other two. She smiles as she remembers Wisdom’s attempt to camouflage the identities by speaking of “the doctor” or the “local guy.” She’s had all the details for over a month courtesy of Herr Weis of the consulate. All he needed to do was call in a State Department favor, but that’s what his job is 50 percent of the time, isn’t it?
She stares at the three names in front of her. Why did Wisdom only speak of the doctor and one other man? The man Wisdom called a “local.” The doctor was Stern. That was clear. The other two men, Welbrook and Posner, live close to each other according to the map and addresses. One of them must have been discarded as a suspect, but which? And why?
The why isn’t really important. All she needs is the name of the local man, either Welbrook or Posner. She can’t approach both and leafs through a small book of local numbers she keeps until she finds Bennett’s number and takes a chance. The connection is quick.
“Can you help me? I’m supposed to meet Detective Wisdom, but I’m not sure if it’s at Welbrook or Posner’s house.”
“That’s odd,” says Bennett, knowing the disguise plan might have been delayed, but thinking that they would arrive together if it was still on.
He quickly answers, “At Posner’s. Do you have the address?”
“Yes. Thank you. It’s very close.”
One last look in the mirror and she’s ready. In minutes she’s driving down the highway and senses the freedom of knowing she’ll soon have the truth. The earlier tension she felt has evaporated. She’s prepared to risk that Bennett might call Wisdom and relate their conversation. Still, this is not a worry. She’s not frightened. This is all too important. The road ahead is vacant, so she pushes the Audi to seventy. She flies along past clustered sentinels of black sand pines. It is as if the car knows the same urgency. “Gut,” she murmurs. In minutes she’ll be there.
CHAPTER 19
Stern decides to drive the Chevrolet he finds in the garage instead of the rented Ford. It’s only to the corner, but a car should be available if he needs to make a quick exit. On top of that, he feels that there may be a need to remain less obvious since he assumes a description of his rented car is known by now. He slips on his jacket, comforted by the slight pressure from the nodular shape of the two toxic syringes that press against his torso. He has no more with him. The rest were back in the apartment in the city. So be it. These will have to do.
A final look through the window confirms that Posner’s car still rests at the top of his driveway. This last look is fortunate. Just as he is about to leave, he sees a police cruiser swing around the corner and stop just in front of the house where he’s hiding. He ducks his head away out of instinct. There is no way the police can see him from where their car sits.
He expects the car to pull away, but is surprised when a patrolman steps from the car and approaches the front door. He hears a bell ring. And then again. After ten seconds there’s a knock on the door, which precedes the rattle of the front door handle. Then the bell again. He moves farther away from the window, yet the bell seems to follow him. Then silence. He moves back to the window and looks out. The car is there, but no policeman. He waits and barely breathes. After another few minutes, he hears the static from the man’s radio before he sees him. The cop is talking on his handheld.
“The house seems empty and all doors are locked.” Stern then hears a “Ten-four,” before he watches the man return to his cruiser and drive down the street where it slows as it passes Posner’s house then moves on until it disappears around the corner.
He moves downstairs to the garage connecting door and abruptly stops with his hand on the door handle. How could they possibly know to look here? Then it’s clear. They somehow can trace his cell phone. He enters the garage and slips behind the wheel of the Chevy. The keys are on the dash where he first saw them. The remote door opener is clipped to the visor. He presses the button and watches the large double door swing open. The car starts immediately and he rolls it down the short driveway into the street where he makes a quick turn down the block. He sees Posner’s house looming above him, a kind of Holy Grail he’s about to grasp.
The word about the absence of any activity in the house temporarily occupied by Stern reaches Wisdom just before he’s about to try Posner again. This time he’s more successful and wastes no time as he gets directly to the point.
“We have reason to believe that Dr. Stern has been in your neighborhood, at least earlier today. Have you seen anyone hanging around your house in the past few hours?’
“No. Nothing.”
“What about unusual street noises or phone calls?”
“Nothing there either.”
“Okay. I do want you to know that we have reason to believe Dr. Stern might be dangerous.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” As he speaks Posner stands and looks down the corridor towards the hall closet. “Yes. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Well, just so you know, we’re having a cruiser pass through your neighborhood at regular intervals.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Oh, Detective. A question. Do you think this Doctor Stern was involved in the woman’s disappea
rance?”
“It’s a possibility, sir. There are many possibilities.”
“I see. Okay. Thanks again. Bye.”
Posner feels almost giddy when he hangs up. He no longer fears discovery. The doctor is now the one between the crosshairs and has probably always been the one. No. He is no longer afraid. Sara will be here soon and they can start planning for a new life. He strides to the credenza and opens a bottle of wine. As he pours a glass he remembers that this was the same vintage that he opened for Heidi. He hoists the glass to toast her memory, and then watches as if petrified while his hand begins to shake and a flow of red trickles over the edge and onto his fingers. It’s Heidi’s blood. That’s all he can see. He splashes the wine out of the glass and across the sink. He washes his hands, but still sees her blood. Whatever elation he felt moments before was just a single, almost fragile speck of time that vanished. All he can think of now is wanting Sara to be here with him.
He sits until the images of blood begin to fade and thinks of Sara. He knows that the car that carries her is the new black Volvo of their New York friends and Amagansett neighbors. Door-to-door service is a nice luxury for anyone who heads to the Hamptons on a weekend. Even now, after the high season has past, there are still many part-time resident owners who have become more devoted to their weekend escapes. And the numbers have grown of those who now spend more time in the area especially after 9/11. He remembers the rush of New Yorkers who took out safety deposit boxes in droves after the attack. He still continues to puzzle at the possible contradiction in logic when he considers why they still live in the city most of the time but keep their birth certificates in East Hampton.
He also remembers the unease he felt whenever he went into the city after 9/11. He kept thinking that another attack could happen again, maybe on a subway, a bridge, or tunnel. A few months after the attack, he asked Sara if she would consider moving full time to Amagansett.
“They have lawyers out here too,” he’d said, but she put him off.
“But mostly for real estate and DWIs,” she’d answered. “And I do neither.”
Spoken like a merger-and-acquisition specialist, he later thought, but to this day he still feels some relief, however small, when he leaves New York. Not exactly like abandoning paranoia, more like cleansing away a bad taste, but he also knows most others no longer feel the same, if they ever did.
That’s another reason why he’s so excited to see Sara and go over their plans. Things are getting closer to normal and that’s good. Very good. And for him maybe there’ll be only one more trip to the city. Two at the most. He settles back into the sofa. He begins to feel a warm goodness wash over him like the mist that rolls across the beach when the ocean is still cool and damp warm air flows in from the southwest. He smiles and stands. Now he’s ready for that glass of wine.
Stern parks in the street at the bottom of the short driveway. He checks his coat pockets for the tenth time in the past five minutes to reassure himself the syringes are still there, and then strides up the driveway and mounts the three steps to the door. For some reason he checks his watch. Two fourteen.
“It’s time,” he says aloud. “I’m coming, Heidi. I’m coming.”
Then he raps on the door.
Bennett reaches Wisdom on his cell phone.
“I thought you’d like to know. I just had this odd call from your Austrian friend Brigid.”
“What about?”
“She said you were supposed to meet and wanted to confirm it was at Posner’s house.”
“Did you?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Dammit! She’s trying to do it all herself after I told her we were scrubbing the operation because it’s too dangerous. So now she goes off on her own. I’ll get my ass right over there. Stern’s also been lurking around the neighborhood. Can’t risk getting her caught up in the middle of anything. Bye.”
Wisdom runs down the corridor and through the front door while he calls dispatch and asks them to have a cruiser get to Posner’s house and meet him. And no one is to be allowed in or out till he gets there. No one.
Posner hears the knock. At first he thinks it’s Wisdom or that Sara’s misplaced her key.
He moves down the steps and opens the door to a smiling Stern. It’s already too late to go back up the stairs to open the closet and reach for the gun. Stern walks past him without speaking, climbs the stairs and turns.
“Where did you bury her?”
No introductions. Certainly no handshakes or small talk. The words come out in a sharp staccato. Posner follows him up the stairs and moves to the edge of the hallway near the closet before he turns. One eye on Stern, one on the hallway as if to reassure himself that the closet hasn’t disappeared in the last few minutes. His fingers begin to shake and he slides one hand into his pants pocket to mask the tremor.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well. Heidi. Heidi Kashani. The woman you picked up on the bus. The woman you fucked and then killed. That’s who, you shit.”
“You’re confusing me with someone else. Calm down. If you’re talking about that unfortunate woman who disappeared on the bus several months ago, the police have been here and we’ve talked, even more than once, but there was no contact after she left the bus.”
Posner had already developed this strategy of absolute denial as an initial tactic, but he can see it isn’t working after Stern speaks again.
“You’re lying.” Stern’s voice rises. He’s almost screaming. He pulls a large syringe from his inner coat pocket and approaches to within three feet of Posner with the needle stretched forward like an extension of his arm. One small thrust and he can surely make contact.
“What’s in here can kill you. But it works fast and the pain is relatively limited if that makes you feel better.” Stern says this knowing that some of the likely reactions are excruciatingly painful, yet it is the doctor in him that now speaks, not the avenger.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
Posner can’t help looking down the corridor at the closet and Stern follows his gaze.
“What are you looking for over there? Some kind of help?”
Stern grabs Posner’s bicep in a clenched hand. The grip is strong, and Posner winces as he spins around and is pushed down the hall with Stern’s other hand holding the syringe.
Posner momentarily thinks Stern might be fooling with the threat, but he can’t be sure, and there is no way he can possibly overcome someone as young and athletic as Stern. He allows himself to be steered down the hall. Then he’s jerked to a stop.
“What’s in here?” Stern waves the needle at the hall closet door.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Open it up. Now!”
Posner pulls the door open and then is pushed to the side by Stern’s left hand.
“Let’s see if it’s nothing.”
Stern keeps an eye on Posner while he looks into the closet. He switches the needle to his left hand and begins to sweep across the shelves with the other. He snatches various random items from shelves; a blanket, two pillows, a shelf of medicine and cosmetic bottles are all flung across the parquet.
A helpless Posner watches as the bottles slide into a random scatter. He doesn’t take his eyes off Stern, but waits for the inevitable when Stern finds the gun. The wait takes seconds, yet his fear never materializes. Stern’s free hand stumbles across the box with the Chiefs Special and unknowing its contents sweeps it to the floor. Serendipitously, it lands near Posner’s feet as if it was aimed. Before Stern reacts, Posner bends down, opens the box, hoists the revolver and levels it at Stern.
“Drop the needle now. Now!”
Stern’s eyes widen as his face seems to shrink in to itself like a slow leak in a balloon. His arm drops to his side with the needle pointing straight down. He faces the revolver only feet away, which points straight at his midsection.
Posner holds the gun in his righ
t hand with his left hand supporting the gun wrist. Just like he was taught in his one lesson.
“I said drop it.”
The needle slips to the floor.
“Now kick it away.”
Stern complies and the needle slides to the far wall.
“That’s better. Now let’s talk.”
Posner’s emotions have soared from fear to bravado in less than a minute. The revolver makes him invincible. He sees how a weapon can abolish almost anyone’s insecurity. In seconds he’s thought through what he will do, but in the end he will kill Stern. The man broke into his home, didn’t he? He threatened to kill, didn’t he?
Posner steps back a few steps. His gun hand is steady.
“Let me tell you what happened, since you’re so interested.”
Stern’s breathing returns to normal, and if Posner takes the time to look, he will see the man’s features fill out as before. Stern’s left hand moves a few inches to his side jacket pocket. Posner doesn’t notice the movement or the one that follows where Stern pats his pocket and feels the shape of another syringe beneath the flap. His face contorts into something between a smile and a scowl. Posner doesn’t notice. He wants to speak. To be in control. It’s been so long since he’s felt this way. Since before he lost his job.
“You’re right. She is dead, but I never had sex with her. If I had maybe everything would be back to normal for all of us, but it’s too late. And I didn’t kill her. We met on the bus and she talked her way into coming here to see the house. She was pretty pushy about that. As far as sex is concerned, I think she wanted it, but I wasn’t interested.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“No. It’s true. It’s not that I wasn’t tempted, but this is a house I share with my wife. I couldn’t do anything. It would have been stupid. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”
