When the phone rang, it was Alvin. I listened to his report.
“What are you yelling at me for?” he asked. “Wasn’t that what you wanted me to find out?”
It was.
I called McCracken again and left another message: “Just tell him I figured it out. And tell him it’s urgent, life and death.”
“Excuse me, it’s time to get myself fixed up a bit now,” I said to the cat.
In the shower, I thought a lot. The key was to remain calm and dispassionate. I could manage that.
I towel-dried my hair and hunted around for something to wear. The red dress didn’t seem right. But it was clean and even hanging up. I decided to sit down with a glass of wine to calm my nerves while waiting.
The doorbell jangled. I looked at the clock. Five to six. Richard wasn’t due for more than an hour. No one had buzzed to get in.
It must be McCracken, I thought, and about time too. I whipped open the door and felt myself being shoved back into the apartment, the door slammed behind me. For once, there was no sign of Mrs. Parnell.
“What a surprise,” I said. “But I thought you were bringing dinner.”
Richard stared at me and began to smile, slowly.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re here, we can relax for a little while.” I chattered. My voice was as close to normal as I could make it. “How about a little bit of wine?”
“It’s not a social call,” he said, invading my space, walking toward me.
I found myself backing up. And hating it.
“Of course, it’s a social call, Richard. And if you want, we can go out to dinner. I’m feeling much better now. And the police believe they’re about to locate the guys who killed Wendtz and Hickey. Underworld connections. So that takes a load off my mind.”
“Does it?”
I looked at him, really looked at him. And, for the first time, saw behind the long lean body and the deep brown eyes, saw the fire that had been eating at Richard for years. And I knew that he knew that I knew that no underworld connections had been the killers. When I turned away, I tried not to stare down at his tan shoes. The shoes I’d first seen in the family photo in his office.
“Sure it does,” I said.
“It was a mistake to phone around to find out what my daughter died of. I know it was you. You’ve been like a steamroller all through this. No respect for anybody.”
Oh, Alvin. How ham-handed have you been, I thought.
“One of my old friends gave me a call,” he said.
Now that I found myself alone in the apartment with the man who’d killed four people, I had to ask myself why I hadn’t just told McCracken my theory instead of getting Alvin to check it out.
“And you did a little more snooping, didn’t you? Calling Harmony Head Office to find out who offered Mitzi Brochu the special deal at the Harmony. Don’t bother lying. I already got a call from Corporate. There was no special deal. Just me getting Mitzi where I wanted her.”
Think, I ordered myself, while fighting to keep my face neutral.
“Mitzi was such a stupid, greedy bitch, she fell for it,” he said, apparently not expecting any comment from me. “All I had to do was wait for the right time to make her pay. I wanted her to know before she died, just why she was dying. I told her the whole story. I watched her eyes.”
I thought of Mitzi, tied and gagged, listening to Richard’s explanation of her coming death. A shiver ran through me.
It was too late to pretend I didn’t know anything, to hope he’d just go away. He hadn’t made that revelation to someone he expected would live to pass the information on to the police.
I had nothing to lose by asking. Everything to gain by stalling.
“How did you get into Mitzi’s bedroom without alarming her? How did you tie her up without her screaming the roof off the Harmony?”
His fists clenched when he talked about Mitzi.
“I told you she was stupid,” he said. “Vain, too. She thought every man had to be interested in her. She thought I was coming on to her and she was willing. Imagine, a disgusting, ugly harpy like that.” His face twisted as he spoke. Mitzi was dead, but Richard’s hatred still burned. In his mind he must have been back at the scene, raging. “It made me sick to touch her. Before and afterwards.”
Not before you wrote on the walls in her blood, I thought. I fought to control my shivering.
“You had your reasons,” I said.
“Yes, I did. And I could tell my wife that the witch was dead.”
I nodded, and he seemed to bring himself back to the present and me.
He shook his head.
“But as I said, it was stupid of you to go digging around.”
“I disagree, Richard. It would have been stupid if I hadn’t mentioned it to anybody. But I did.”
He loomed in a little bit closer. Where I’d felt warmth and attraction just the day before, now I felt nothing but fear. Trickles of sweat soaked my hair. The red dress clung to my back.
“Really?” he smiled. “Who did you mention it to?”
I wasn’t about to tell him about Alvin and Elaine and Maria who all had Richard’s name. I didn’t want them to find themselves with poems before they thought to take their information to the police.
“I told the police.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “The police would never have agreed to let me come here, if you’d told them what you knew.”
“Exactly. It’s not seven yet. McCracken will be here any minute.”
“I’m afraid not. McCracken and Mombourquette got a message from you sending them over to search Jo Quinlan’s farm in Chelsea. I imagine they’re butting heads with the Quebec Provincial Police right now.”
My heart beat wildly in my chest. He was telling the truth, I was sure. I’d played right into his hands all through my investigation, even telling him about the personalities of the investigating officers. There would be no reinforcements.
“But even so,” I said, “they won’t find anything there. And they’ll be back here afterwards.” I was surprised at how calm I could sound with my cardiovascular system in crisis.
Richard’s smile hadn’t changed. The emotionless grimace of the damned.
“But they will find something there,” he said, “Sammy Dash’s wallet. And a pair of Mitzi’s shoes. Souvenirs from Wendtz and his stooge too. And they will come back here. But it will be too late for you. I’m afraid you’ll be dead.” Regret fluttered over his face and was gone. The chocolate eyes radiated pain for himself, maybe even for me.
He doesn’t want to kill me, I told myself. Try to reach him. Keep talking.
“You don’t want to kill me, Richard,” I said.
“I didn’t before. But you wouldn’t stop digging.”
“I thought you cared about me. I thought we had something special.” I could feel my stomach heave as I said the words. “Didn’t you feel it too?”
“I did. I felt it,” he said. “But now it’s too late. I have no choice.”
“Don’t be too hasty, Richard. I think we can get people to understand your actions. After all, your life was ruined by