The Anatomy of Violence (14 page)

“I could have kept you out of here legally, fat man.”

“Sure you could, for maybe an hour.” Koch took a sheet of paper from the card table. “What’s this?”

“Some writing. Being a cop you wouldn’t understand.”

“Poetry.” Koch let the paper flutter to the floor and turned to Rich, his feet planted wide apart. “Farham, these trailers are gimmicked up like a smuggler’s suitcase. Show me the secret compartments.”

Sergeant Johnson walked to the doorway and stood with thumbs hooked into his belt. Rich unhooked a panel beneath the bed and lifted it. “Jacks, spare wheels, empty suitcases. Interested?”

Koch looked under it, grunted, then pushed himself up. He walked to the couch that extended across the rear of the trailer. “What’s in here?” He started raking books onto the floor.

“More books. I’ll do it.” Together, Rich and I removed the books and stacked them on the floor. Rich tugged at the back of the couch. “Seems … stuck.”

“Get away.” Koch hooked his fingers under the couch and straightened with a hoarse grunt. Fabric ripped, springs twanged, and the couch overturned. A large white shape thumped on the floor and scattered the books.

Ann’s wild blonde hair covered her eyes. Her lipstick looked oddly bright against her dark, swollen face. She wore stockings, garter belt, and a length of faded binder twine exactly the color of her hair. It was twisted tightly around her neck.

I felt myself swaying, then saw the glint of the blue metal in Koch’s hand. “Rich!”

There was a crash at the door and Sergeant Johnson slumped to the floor. I glimpsed Richard’s broad back as he zigzagged away across the court, then I saw Koch at the door raising his gun. I jumped on his back and struck at his arm. The gun exploded and plowed splinters from the doorsill.

Koch whirled, swinging me like a hammer. My legs crashed against the wall and my arms were torn from his neck. I watched the pale tile floor rise toward me, then I saw nothing but flashing lights inside my head.

A
TOWHEADED
girl of about four was looking down at me when I awoke. She wore pajamas with a dirty yellow bunny sewed on the front. She backed away as I sat up holding my head.

I looked around and saw that the trailer was crawling with children. Dirty kids in dirty nightgowns and pajamas, one with nothing on at all. They stared at Ann’s body, which lay as it had fallen. I watched in horror as a three-year-old boy touched a dirty forefinger to her open eye.

“Get away!” I screamed. I jumped up and slapped him and he fell down bawling.

“All of you get out! Go!” I pushed and slapped until the trailer was empty. I heard them whimpering outside as I snapped the lock and took a blanket from Richard’s bed.

The plainness of Ann’s features was evident now that excitement no longer shone from her eyes. I pulled the blanket over her and then stood up.

My knees were like jelly. For the first time I knew the stark, staring fear of personal extinction. The lump beneath the blanket could be me. I wanted to find the man and say, “Isn’t two of us enough, for God’s sake? Does there have to be three?” I felt as though I’d gone for a swim and been swept out to sea; I wanted to stop swimming but I knew I’d die if I did.

I could hear the crowd growing outside the trailer. Their voices rose like the hum of a disturbed beehive. A few fragments came through:

“Heard a shot. What was it?”

“Girl … found her in Farham’s trailer … hiding … that wheatfield over there.”

“Damn sex fiends, oughta castrate every last …”

“We can get him. Lieutenant, you need some help?”

Koch’s voice resonated authority. “There’s a dozen men on the way, but there’s always room for a good men. Farham is armed and dangerous.”

“I got a gun,” said a tight voice.

“Get it and come back here. Anybody else?”

“I can get one!”

“Me too!”

I shivered and picked up my purse. Koch wasn’t organizing a search party, he was building a lynch mob. I started to open the door, then felt the lightness of my purse.

The gun was gone. So were the photos of Eileen and the roll of tape. I jerked up my jersey and ran a hand inside my bra. Ann’s letter was missing too.
Oh, that bastard Koch.
He’d searched me while I was unconscious.

I jerked the door open and stood facing a slight man in a black suit, carrying a black bag. He lifted his black hat. “Excuse me, I’m the medical examiner.” He squeezed past me, followed by two men with a stretcher. I stepped down to the single trailer step and closed the door behind me.

Standing a head above the crowd, I could see at least forty people in the space between two rows of trailers. Women in nightgowns stood silent on the fringe; men without shirts, their bare feet shoved into unlaced shoes, were in the center. They were the court’s tenants; oilfield workers, harvest hands, and construction men.

I searched for a familiar face, but saw only Johnson sitting in the patrol car holding a cloth to his head. Koch stood facing a dozen grim men, several of whom already had guns.

“How about we set fire to the wheat field, Lieutenant?” asked one of the group, a tall, ape-shaped man with suspenders twisted over a grimy undershirt. He grinned, revealing the brown snags of his teeth. “That’d bring him out!”

Koch scratched his jowls thoughtfully, then another man spoke. “Are you crazy? Start a fire in this weather and the whole town would go.”

Koch shouldered his way out of the group. “Let’s go, you men with guns. We’ll spread out and comb the field.”

My mind raced as I watched them move. I thought of Rich crawling through the field while the men stalked him. “Wait a minute!” I shouted.

Two of the men stopped; the others looked over their shoulders, shrugged, and moved on. “You’re going after the wrong man!” I yelled again, standing on tiptoe.

More men stopped, and a few smiles broke out. Koch growled, “This is police business, young lady. Stay out of it.” He moved forward and the men followed.

I spoke to the crowd, not to Koch. “If it’s police business, why can’t the police handle it?” Someone laughed, and Koch’s group straggled to a halt. “I know nothing about police business, I only know Richard Farham was with me when this girl was killed.”

Koch broke into the mumble of the crowd. “The girl’s hysterical, men. Let’s go!”

“Do I sound hysterical?” I lowered my voice and spoke to those nearest me. “I’m telling you the truth. I went to the lieutenant an hour ago and wanted him to help me find this girl. Ask him what he did.”

“You had no proof!” Koch’s voice rose.
“Where’s your proof?”

“Do I need proof? I was a victim.” I lowered my voice still more, and saw two men leave Koch’s group and come nearer. I could sense the shift in the crowd’s emotion. “In case any of you don’t know me, I’m Laura Crewes, the girl who was attacked Saturday night. And I say Richard Farham didn’t do it. Wouldn’t I know?”

“If he didn’t, who did?” crackled the brown-toothed man.

“You asked a good question, there.” I smiled at him. “Why don’t you ask the lieutenant? Ask him how he knew there was a body in that trailer, too.” I paused a moment, then raised my voice. “Is the woman here who called the police?”

Heads turned, but nobody spoke.

“Isn’t that a little unusual, Lieutenant? Someone calls the police and doesn’t wait for them to arrive?”

“Come on, you men!” yelled Koch. “He’ll be in the next county!”

Nobody moved, and I spoke again. “There are many unusual things about this. Ask the lieutenant how many killers stand quietly while the search for a body is getting warm. Ask him how many hide a body in their own houses. And you, ask yourselves why a detective would try to shoot a man before he started running. Ask him …” I lowered my voice,
“Ask him why he came to Curtright City.”

“All right!” Koch shouldered his way forward and pushed his face so close to mine I could see the yellow film at the corners of his eyes. “You forgot what I told you about the cat,” he said softly. “You’re under arrest.”

“You’re being stupid, Koch.”

“And you’re being charged with inciting to riot.” He gripped my forearm. “The show’s over.”

I glanced at the sullen faces of the crowd. I had their sympathy, but I could expect no help against the law. I turned to Koch, and did what I’d always considered a childish, filthy gesture; I spat in his face. It ran down beside his nose and I jerked free and ran. I heard Koch shout, “Grab her!”

A different voice shouted, “Don’t touch her!” Then the brown-toothed man stepped in front of me with arms outstretched. I struggled against him, but he held my arms behind me and turned me to face Koch.

“That’s enough.” The voice belonged to Jules Curtright, a tone of quiet, unmistakable authority. The crowd was silent as he walked toward me, his brows low over dark eyes. He looked over my head at the man who held me. “Do you know who I am?”

“Naw.”

Jules smiled, and his voice was pleasant. “I’m Jules Curtright. Did you hear me say not to touch the girl?”

“Yeah, but the lieutenant—”

Crack! The back of Jules’ hand caught the man on the jaw. He staggered and I jumped aside. Jules stepped forward, his hand still raised, and chopped the edge of his palm below the man’s ear. He fell forward. Jules’ knee came up into his face and flipped him backward. The man sprawled and lay with his breath bubbling through mashed lips.

Jules caught my wrist. “Stay beside me.” Then he called, “Come here, Koch!”

Koch stepped forward and stood facing Jules. “Did you tell this mob to grab the girl?”

“She was trying to—”

Splat! Jules’ palm struck Koch’s cheek with a sound like a baker slapping bread dough. “Tell them nobody touches the girl.”

Koch’s head settled deep into the fat of his neck and for a moment I thought he’d attack Jules. Instead he tinned and growled to the crowd. “Okay, nobody touches the girl.”

He jerked open the door of the patrol car, heaved himself behind the wheel, and slammed the door behind him. He gunned the motor, put his head through the window, and barked, “Go home to bed and forget the search party! He’s gone by now!” His car sprayed gravel on the crowd as he roared from the court.

The trailer door swung open. I looked up to see the medical examiner step down, followed by two men with the stretcher. The crowd was hushed as they carried Ann’s body to the ambulance; some of the men took off their hats.

Jules pulled gently on my arm. “You can ride in my car.”

I almost said no, then I remembered that all our evidence was gone. “All right.”

When we were moving, Jules cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Ann.”

“Oh? Did you know her?”

“Not well. But I understand she used to be a friend of yours.”

“That was years ago, before she met a man.” With an effort, I kept my voice casual. “Do you always know what happens in this town as soon as it happens?”

“Usually.” He glanced at me, his face sharp in the glow from the dashlights. “What’s on
your
mind?”

I ran my hand down my thigh and felt the bulge of the knife. “You knew where to find me. And you knew it was Ann, yet they didn’t lift the blanket.”

He leaned forward and flicked a switch. I heard the crackle of static. “Police radio,” he said.

“Oh,” I listened to the monotone voices.
“Car four en route to Pelman road.”
Then, ”
Car
six ready on route two-twenty.”

Jules flicked it off. “They’re sewing up the town with roadblocks.

He can’t get away.”

But I knew he could; that meant I’d have to reach the pumper’s shack. “Jules, this isn’t the way to my home.”

“I know. Saturday night you said you never changed dates in midevening.” He leaned back in the seat. “I’m holding you to your policy, thought we’d ride around.” He held out a cigaret and I took it. “Ace told me you checked on my alibi, Laurie. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He grinned as he lit my cigaret. “Simone was disappointed tonight, in case you’re wondering how that play turned out.”

“I wasn’t.” I drew deeply on the cigaret and wondered if he knew what else I’d done that night. “Jules, is it too late to go to your lodge?”

“The
lodge?”
Jules braked the car. “You want to go
now?”

“Right now.” My throat was tight. “You said I wouldn’t need luggage.”

“No, but—” He shook his head and started turning around in a driveway. “Laurie, someday I’ll figure out how your mind works.”

When we neared the little all-night cafe, I asked Jules if he’d get me a couple of hamburgers to eat en route. After he’d gone in, I printed a note on the back of the receipt for my formal:

I ran down the highway and climbed a fence to get to the pumper’s shack. I rolled the note and stuck it in a crack inside the door. I ran back to the car and slid into the seat just as a police car stopped on the highway.

I watched it back up, red light flashing on the roof, blocking both lanes of traffic. They stopped one car while I waited, flashed a light on the driver and into the back seat, searched the trunk, then waved it on. I hoped Rich wouldn’t try to reach our rendezvous now.

“Chow.” Jules dropped a sack in my lap and slid behind the wheel.

Just then one of the policemen shouted, “Here he comes!”

I turned to see the blue sedan bearing down on the police car. Twenty yards away it careened onto the gravel parking lot. I glimpsed Richard behind the wheel, lips stretched over his teeth in a savage grin. Gravel clattered on Jules’ car as Rich swerved back on the highway beyond the police car.

Helplessly I watched the two policemen draw their guns and fire. Richard’s car swerved to the right, then shot across to the left. It struck the ditch, bounced high in the air, landed rolling in a wheat field.

I clawed open the door and started running across the gravel lot. I reached the highway as the car made one last roll and bounced back to rest on its wheels. Jules shouted behind me and I ran faster. I heard a muffled boom and saw Richard’s car turn into a flower of yellow, licking flame.

Flames spread into the wheat field like a drop of red ink on a blotter. Thirty yards from the car I felt the heat burn my face. Inside the car, I saw a figure writhe, black against the flames, and heard a strange, inhuman whimper of pain.

Then strong arms caught me from behind and Jules’ voice yelled in my ear. “Too late, Laurie!”

I turned and clawed at his face, but his arms held me like steel cables. He carried me kicking back to his car and held me against him for what seemed like half an hour. Then his voice was gentle in my ear. “You can’t do anything, Laurie. Look.”

I quit struggling and turned. A dozen men were beating out the last of the flames. Richard’s car was a black shadow in the center of a smoking perimeter. I smelled burning rubber and the sweet, horrible odor of burned flesh. Nothing moved inside the car. My knees went rubbery and I felt Jules’ hand on my back, guiding me firmly into his car.

For an hour he held the car at eighty with his hands relaxed on the wheel. When he finally spoke his voice was idly curious. “Did you love him?”

I’d grown used to the empty ache in my chest; suddenly it blossomed again and filled my throat. I spoke with effort. “There wasn’t time. I was just beginning to know what kind of man he was.”

“Mmmmm. I’m still going to the lodge, you know.”

“Yes?” For an hour I hadn’t noticed where we were going. Now I forced the memory of Richard deep into my mind. “So I see.”

Jules leaned back and dropped his hand to my knee. “No reason to change our plans, now that the case is officially closed. It’s obvious Richard did it, used Ann as an alibi, then killed her so she couldn’t disprove it.”

I wriggled my toes inside my shoes to keep from striking his hand. “You said the case was closed, Jules. Let’s leave it that way.”

“And in your mind.”