Razzamatazz (A Crime Novel) (24 page)

He was sure Otto Lien wasn't the only one who blamed him for their business failures. They didn't have Hallock any more, and they didn't know who the killer was. So now he was the target and by Monday morning, when Babe's story hit the stands, he'd be a walking bull's-eye.

LOOKING BACK
—25 YEARS AGO

Tom Blackwell, son of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Blackwell of Seaville, was awarded one of the prizes for scholastic excellence at the special Honors Convocation at Mount St. Mary's College, Emmetsburg, Md., on June 1st. Blackwell, who was graduated cum laude, and received his diploma from President Dwight D. Eisenhower, received the Edward T. Hogan Memorial Prize for the highest average through the pre-legal course.

TWENTY-FIVE

"Let's have coffee in the living room," Annie said.

Colin blew out the candle nearest him and picked up his cup and saucer.

At first, dinner had been a little strained, each of them trying to shake the unpleasant encounter with Otto Lien. Eventually that passed, a new mood preempting the old, the candlelit dinner encouraging flirtation. There were long silences where they looked into each other's eyes—moments when, passing the salt or butter, their hands touched, lingered longer than necessary.

Colin hadn't desired a woman in this way since Nancy. But he was unsure of himself and thought he might be reading signals where there were none. He recalled his brother saying: "Listen, Col', if you're fantasizing about some girl, dreaming about her, wondering what she's thinking or doing, chances are damn good she's doing the same thing about you." And it had proved to be true nine times out of ten. But that was a long time ago. He couldn't expect to count on that rule of thumb now. And what if Annie was the one out of ten?

Testing, he sat on the couch to see what Annie would do. She hesitated, put her coffee on the table, then sat a pillow away from him. Old Brian might have had something after all. And then he thought of Babe, the story. He should tell Annie about Nancy and the kids before she read it in the paper. Instead he said, "Good coffee."

"Thanks."

He pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket. "I wanted to show you something. Do you know what this is?" he asked, handing her the pad.

"It's a swastika. No. Wait a minute. It's not. A swastika goes the other way."

"Show me." Colin gave her a pen.

Annie said, "Like this:"

Below that was Colin's:

"So what's this one?" he asked, pointing to his own.

"Is this like the one the killer carved on poor Joe Carroll?"

"Yes."

"It's definitely not a swastika," she said evenly.

"What do you think it is then?"

"I'm not sure. I think I've seen it before, though. Let's look it up."

"Where?"

"In the dictionary. It's in my office upstairs. I'll bring it down."

Colin couldn't believe it. The dictionary! Why hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't Mike Rosler? He'd finally made contact with Mike that afternoon. He was as stymied as Colin, but said he'd keep after it, see what he could find.

Annie came back carrying a large Random House dictionary. She opened it on her lap, riffled the pages. "See, here it is." She moved closer to him, their bodies touching, the dictionary half on her lap, half on his.

Colin struggled to ignore the warmth of her thigh against his and concentrated on the page in front of him. There were the two symbols side by side:

He read the definition next to them: "1. a figure used as a symbol or an ornament in the Old World and in America since prehistoric times, consisting of a cross with arms of equal length, each arm having a continuation at right angles, and all four continuations extending either clockwise or counterclockwise. ... 2. this figure with clockwise arms as the official emblem of the Nazi party and the Third Reich. Also a good luck sign." He read the caption below the two symbols. "Swastikas. A, Oriental and American Indian; B, Nazi."

"What do you think, Colin?"

"I don't know. It brings up a lot of possibilities, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I guess it does. There were plenty of Indians here at one time, you know."

"Or it could be that someone doesn't know how to make a swastika. I'll bet if you asked ten people to make swastikas at least half would draw them the way the killer did."

"You're probably right."

"Have you ever heard anything about a Nazi party here?"

"No."

"And the only Orientals I've seen own the restaurant."

"Believe me, it couldn't be any of Koi Chang's family. I know them pretty well."

"I can't back this up, but I have a feeling the one made was the one meant. I wish I could find out more about this symbol." He lifted the dictionary from their laps, placed it on the floor, and turned back to her. They were still touching; neither moved away.

"Betty Mills would probably have some information."

"The librarian," he confirmed.

She nodded.

"Could we see her?"

"The library's not open at ten-thirty on Saturday night."

"Monday, then. What time does it open?"

"Ten, I think."

"Ten," he repeated vaguely, his eyes searching hers. They were very blue, the pupils dark, the color of black olives. She'd drawn an outline around the edges, given a soft blue cast to her lids. There was a delicacy to her mouth, and he wanted to taste her lips, gently bite the lower one. He leaned toward her, she toward him. Their mouths met. He slipped an arm around her, pulled her closer. She responded, her hand behind his neck. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, knew just how he would touch them. When they parted he said, "I want you, Annie."

"Colin," she whispered, closed her eyes, almost imperceptibly shook her head.

But he saw it. "What?"

She opened her eyes, taking him in. "It's been so long. I'm frightened."

"Me, too." He kissed each eye. "I haven't felt like this since ... since my wife."

"I know. I feel the same. But..."

"You feel guilty?"

"As if I'm cheating on Bob. I know it's foolish, but I can't help it."

"I understand."

"You're the first man I've kissed, Colin, since him." She touched his cheek with her fingertips. "It seems strange."

"I know."

"Do you feel that? Do you feel I'm strange?" she asked. "Yes and no. You're not Nancy and that's strange. But you're Annie and I like that."

She smiled, leaned toward him. Carefully, he took her lower lip between his teeth, slid into a kiss.

Then he said, "Annie, I want to stay the night with you," his lips to her ear.

"Oh, Colin, no," she said.

"Why not?" Here come de minister, he thought. She moved away, picked up her cup, sipped. "Is it your religion?" he asked.

She laughed sweetly, touched his hand. "You think Unitarian Universalists don't make love?"

"I thought maybe ministers didn't, if they weren't married."

"Some do, some don't."

"And you?"

She evaded the question. "I couldn't let you spend the night, Colin. It would offend too many people."

"Who has to know?"

"Everyone would know."

"You mean my car? I'll park it somewhere else."

"No, that wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"You'd be seen. Trust me, the people around here know everything that goes on."

"No one's spotted a killer, so what makes you think anybody's going to know I spent the night with you?"

"I can't take the chance."

"That doesn't leave us much, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

He lit a cigarette. "We're not kids, Annie."

"If we were, you'd be spending the night." He laughed, took her hand in his, and kissed her palm. She trembled.

"Let me ask you this. If you weren't a minister with a nosy congregation, would you let me stay?"

Hours seemed to pass before she answered but it was only seconds. "Yes," she whispered.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray, drew her toward him, traced her lips with his finger. "We could make love now and I could leave afterwards, but I don't want you that way, Annie. If we make love, we spend the night together or else we don't make love at all."

"Thank you for that." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and sweet.

He couldn't take it any longer, gently disengaged himself. "I think I'd better go."

At the door he said, "Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know."

"I guess we play it by ear."

"I guess."

They kissed again, their bodies pressed hard against one another. He wanted to beg her to change her mind, but knew she wouldn't, couldn't.

"I've got to go," he said. Then he made a last-ditch effort. "How about you coming to my house?"

She smiled. "Same problem."

"I thought you'd say that." He took her face between both hands, tenderly kissed her eyes, her mouth. "We'll talk tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said.

Sitting in his car, he reflected on the past half hour. Annie was wonderful. She made him feel alive again. God, he'd wanted her. He wondered how they'd ever get together, make love. "Play it by ear," he'd said. But one thing bothered him: He hadn't told her the truth about Nancy and the kids. If there was ever to be anything meaningful between them, he'd have to tell her. Tomorrow.

He started the motor, put the Mercury into gear. And when he drove away, recalling their kisses, he failed to notice the man in the car, slouched down behind the wheel, parked across the street from Annie's house.

----

When Colin pulled into his driveway he saw a car in front of his house but didn't recognize it. The door opened on the driver's side and a man got out.

"Hey there, Maguire," Hallock called, coming toward him. "Waldo. I didn't know it was you. New car?"

He ambled up the path. "Rental."

Colin wondered why he couldn't use his own car but didn't ask.

"Some beautiful night." Hallock faced the water and the tiny sparkling lights of Shelter Island.

Colin said, "Full moon."

The men looked at each other, a frisson of fear passing over each face, then laughed at their superstition.

Hallock inhaled a mouthful of air. "Ah, boy, that's good. No goddamn pollution here. Smell that air, Maguire? That's Seaville air, smelled it all my life. Can't imagine smelling any other air."

"Any reason why you'll have to?"

"Every reason." He put a hand on Colin's shoulder. "Can we go in?"

They walked up the steps. Colin opened the screen door to the porch and got out his keys.

Hallock said, "Used to be a time when nobody had to lock their doors. Gone forever."

Inside Colin snapped on a light.

"Haven't been in this house for more than thirty years. My first girlfriend lived here, Roberta Staten, Bobbie I called her. Had blond curls like ringlets all over her head. Real pretty blue eyes, the kind that make you stop and stare, know what I mean?"

Colin nodded. "What happened to her?"

"Moved away, married some pilot for one of the big airlines. Place looks different. Didn't have all this nice wallpaper then."

They walked through the living room into the large kitchen. Colin pulled the cord on the large wicker hanging lamp over the round oak table.

"Christ almighty," Hallock said, looking around. "I never saw a red kitchen before."

"Me either. You have to get used to it. Want a drink?"

"I'll take a beer." He put a stack of folders on the table.

Colin hadn't noticed them before. He handed Hallock a cold beer. "Want a glass?"

"Nope. You're not having any?"

"I had some wine earlier." He popped the tab on his can of Tab. "What's up? I have the feeling this isn't just a social call."

"You're right." Hallock sat at the table and pushed the folders to one side.

Colin joined him.

"You been with Annie Winters tonight?" He smiled knowingly and sucked on his beer.

"Have you got me under surveillance?"

"Just a lucky guess. Nice lady. I like her."

"She likes you, too." He lit a cigarette.

"Thing is, I got thinking about what she said to me yesterday after the meeting. You know, about doing some investigating on my own. I mean, maybe the people have turned their backs on me, but I can't turn my back on them. It's still my town."

"Do you have something?" Colin asked, nodding toward the folders.

"Don't know. I thought maybe we could work on this together. That is, if you don't mind teaming up with the ex-chief of police."

"Come on."

"Well, it's a fact. Can't deny it. That's who I am. Ex-chief of police. Ex-chief of police separated from his wife."

"You're kidding."

"Fact."

"Why?" Colin was astonished. Everyone knew Fran and Waldo Hallock were crazy about each other. "It's not something to do with that Dorman woman, is it?"

"Fran was with her, Maguire. Sitting right there in the same row, listening to that gal cut me up one side, down the other. Claims she had no idea Julia was going to say that stuff."

"I don't think she did. I saw Fran's face when Dorman started talking against you. She was shocked."

"Maybe so, but she didn't do beans about it."

"What could she have done?"

"She could've got up and walked out. Or better yet, come sat with me. She did nothing. I bumped into Gildersleeve about an hour later, know what he said to me? Said, 'Well, Slats, guess you've really been pussy-whipped this time.' Nice, huh?"

"Yeah. Nice."

"And he didn't mean Julia Dorman either. Meant Fran. Ah, hell, Maguire, that's water under the bridge." He pulled the folders toward him.

Colin wondered whether to push the man to talk more about the situation with Fran. He suspected he'd said all he could. "Where're you staying?"

"Wood's Motel. Can't tell you how happy they were to get me. Place is almost empty. Liz Wood, the gal who owns the joint, said business's been off by two-thirds since these murders started. You heard them yesterday, Maguire. Everybody's hurting around here. We just got to get this bastard."