Bannerman's Law (29 page)

Hickey saw it fall. It opened, partially, on impact. It
was empty. His mind was fixed on that, and what it could
mean, when he felt something soft and padded being
pulled down over his head and shoulders. It was like a
straightjacket. He raised one hand, feebly, to try to stop
it. He was too late but the palm of that hand now touched
his chest. It felt warm and wet. It was bubbling. Something
hit his knees from behind. One, then the other. Bending
them. He felt himself being jerked backward, falling. The
chair came with him. Someone was catching him. Easing
him to the floor.

Su
mn
er Dommerich walked to the door. He listened
there, and closed it. He examined his knife. It was a good
one. A subhilt fighter with a dagger blade and a skull-
crusher butt. He had ordered it from a catalog. There was
very little blood on it. None on his hand. The thermal sleeve was another matter but that would clean easily.
From his pocket he took a fresh packet of Kleenex. He
broke the seal and pulled one sheet. He used it to clean
the knife. He pulled all the rest and gathered them into a ball. With these, he walked to the falle
n
man and eased
himself down across his chest. Hickey was gasping. Sum
ner Domme
ri
ch forced the ball of Kleenex between his
teeth.

Dommerich felt the pulse at
Hickey's
throat. It seemed uneven but he was sure that the man was not yet dying.
Dommerich had been careful to miss his heart but he must
have hit a lung. The man's chest made little farting sounds
inside the sleeve.

“
Do you remember me
?”
he asked.

Hickey's
eyes bulged under the weight. They showed
more confusion than fear. Dommerich understood that. He still did not know what had happened to him. Or maybe, thought Dommerich, he just could not believe it. That hap
pened a lot.

”
I know. Wait
.”
Dommerich pushed to his feet. He
opened his pants and took out his penis. He couldn't go
at first. He waited, straining. At last a stream of urine
came, aimed at
Hickey's
forehead. Hickey bucked and
kicked. Dommerich was careful not to wet his pizza
sleeve.

“
Do you remember now? This morning. When you
followed Lisa's sister to
”—h
e patted his pocket, then
found a page torn from a telephone book, the same as the one he had seen in the blue Chevrole
t—“
to a girl named
Fenerty's
house. You pissed on my car there. Yo
u
slapped me
.”

Hickey
’
s eyes showed that he remembered. He
squirmed hard, arching his back. Dommerich saw that one eye looked crazy but the other was beginning to lose focus.
It was time to finish.

Dommerich sat down again on the bigger man's stom
ach. A dull bang
,
more of a
w
h
o
omph.
startled him. The
man gasped and went rigid. Dommerich smelled cordite
and he realized wha
t
had happened. The man,
H
ickey, had
a gun in his belt. He'd managed to get his fingers on it.
Tried to fre
e
it. Shot himself in the ass. Served him right,
thought Dommerich. But that was too close.

Dommerich reached into the pocket of his windbreaker.
He pulled out a black leather case and from it he took
another knife, a skinning knife, smaller. He opened it.
Dommerich pressed the butt of his left hand against Hick
ey
’
s forehead and put his weight behind it. With his right,
he inserted the blade between
Hickey's
lips. Hickey
bucked again. Dommerich slid the curving blade to the corner of his mouth, waited for Hickey to exhale, then
ripped. Hicke
y's
left cheek opened to the midpoint of
his ear.

Hickey took more air. He tried to scream. Dommerich
held the Kleenex in place with the flat of his skinning
knife. Again, he waited for Hickey to exhale. Hickey did.
Then Dommerich did the other cheek.

Hickey arched his back. He hammered the floor with his heels. Dommerich thought of the people below. He
made a shushing sound. He brought a finger to his lips
and the skinning knife to Hickey
’
s eye. Hickey gurgled.
He tried to be still.

“
Have you guessed who I am
?”
Dommerich asked
him.

Hickey
’s
eyes sai
d
yes
.
He made a mewing sound through his nose and his brain screamed that this could
not be happening. There was no way this kid, this maniac,
could know that it was him who
.
.
.

“
It's never been just women
,”
Dommerich told him. That flat voice. No emotion.
“
And I wouldn't have hurt
Lisa. Did you know she was my friend
?”

Hickey blinked and gurgled. His eyes were wide. He
tried to focus them but he could not.

“
You cut her, didn't you. You cut her, just like this, and then you stole from her
.”

Hickey tried to shake his head. His cheeks flapped sick
eningly when he moved them.

“
Why
?”
Dom
m
e
ri
ch asked.
“
What did she ever do
to you
?”

It ended too quickly. One moment Dommerich saw
pain and terror. In the next,
Hickey's
other eye drifted and
his mind went with it.

Dommerich could see that. He asked the question again,
his knife probing deep into
Hickey's
nose but there was
no reaction. There would be no more answers. Dommerich
almost wished he hadn't pissed on him. It was satisfying.
But it just used up time.

It was funny, thought Dommerich. The man really did
look like his father. At least he did now.

Dommerich would like to have known why the man
killed Lisa. But maybe it was just as well he didn't. Some
times you find out things and you're sorry you did. What
if Lisa was his
...

Uh-uh.

No way. Lisa and a slob like this? No way. He didn't
even want any of his hair. It was too greasy. And pissed
on.

But he'd like to have known what this man stole from
her. Dommerich glanced around the room. There was a
television set but he could see from where he was that it
had many days accumulation of dust on it. Same with the
VCR. No cable box. His dream in the phone booth was wrong. He could see nothing there that Lisa would even
want.

A few more bubbles. One long fart. Then H
i
cke
y
was
quiet.

Dommerich got up. He stepped around to
Hickey's
head and began pulling at the insulated sleeve. He dragged
the corpse half way across the room before the sleeve
came loose. The gun tumbled out first. Dommerich left
it there.

He took the sleeve into
Hickey's
bathroo
m—f
ilthy
tub
—a
nd held it under the shower. He dried
it inside and
out. He turned to the sink where he washed his two knives and, with cold water, sponged off the blood that had splat
tered his knees and his w
i
ndbreaker. That done, he peeked
inside
Hickey's
medicine cabinet. He had no reason for doing so. He always did it when he used people's bath
rooms. He suspected that most other people did
that, too.

There was a tape recorder on the top of
Hickey's
bed
room dresser. It looked like a good one. Also a Niko
n
camera
.
He pressed the
“
play
”
button of the tape machine but it was blank. He took a fresh Kleenex and wiped the button. Then he began wiping everything else he could
remember touching.

Time to go. Just one more thing.

He crossed to
Hickey's
telephone and dialed the num
ber of me Beverly Hills Hotel.

₂₃

The Members Wing nurse was still in the common room, cleaning up after tea. Weinberg beckoned to her with the Ingram. Several members looked up. They saw Ca
r
leton Dunville, his face flushed, being held by his collar. Nellie
stepped into the doorway. She held a finger to her lips. Several grinned excitedly. The man in the yachting cos
tume turned his wheelchair toward them, following the
nurse. Nellie held up a hand.

“
Not now, Ha
r
land
,”
she said.
“
I'll be back to say
good-bye
.”

The nurse was too astonished to speak.

Dunville and the nurse preceded them into the main
hall. Weinberg, his wife covering, disarmed the two
guards. He herded all four into Carleton the younger
’s
office.

“
Now what
?”
said the younger Dunville, spreading
his hands. The question was asked with more weariness
than alarm.

“
One minute
,”
said Weinberg. He pointed the two
guards toward Dunville
’s
washroom and suggested they
make themselves comfortable. He shut the door behind
them, promising to shoot through it if he saw the knob
turn.

Dunville looked questioningly at his father, who only
glowered. Weinberg stepped to the desk. Using the back
of an envelope, he began making a list. He finished, then
showed it to his wife who added several items while he
covered the Dunvilles and the nurse. Barbara handed the
list to the nurse.

“
We'll want all our personal effects and our medical
files. All of Nellie's clothing, her scrapbooks, and cassettes
of all her films
.”
She turned to Nellie.
“
Is there any
thing else
?”

She shook her head.
“
That's nice. Thank you
.”

Now Ca
r
leton the younger blinked.

“
Also a full medical kit
,”
Barbara told the nurse.
“
Anything we might need to remove sutures and some
fresh dressings. Pack them in suitcases and have them here
in one hour. If you're ten minutes late you'll find a dead
guard in th
e
hall. Twenty minutes and you'll find one of
the Dunvilles. Do you in any way doubt that
?”

The nurse glanced at Carleton the elder.

“
Do it
,”
said the son.

She hurried from the room. Barbara Weinberg locked the door behind her.

“
Why, for God's sake
?”
asked Carleton the younger.

“
Because
,”
Weinberg bit off the words,
“
your father
is either a fool or he's crazy. He wants to kill at least five
more people including the three of us
.”

Dunvill
e s
ta
r
ed. His surprise seemed genuine.
“
Who are the other two
?”
he asked.

“
Your man Hickey. And a girl named Fene
rt
y. Where
is Ruiz, by the way
?”

“
She is
...
out of town
.”

“
If out of town is Santa Fe, you can make that six
.”

Dunville looked at his father
.
“
The Fenerty girl? Is
that true
?”

“
It was
...
a consideration. She can embarrass us
.”

The son closed his eyes. He rubbed them. He tu
rn
ed
to Weinberg.
“
Hickey, yes. It's necessary and you know
it. I've made the arrangements. But nothing, I repeat,
noth
ing,
was to have been done about that girl who called
here
.”

The elder Dunville bristled.
”
I will decide
.
.
.
”

“
Father. Shut up
.”

Ca
r
leton the elder strode to his son's desk. He slapped
him. Dunville seized his father. They grappled.

Barbara Weinberg caught her husband's eye. She mo
tioned him toward her. He seated Nellie, then approached.

“
Um
.
.
.
when do you tell me what's going on here
?”
she asked quietly.

“
What? The family squabble
?”

She shook her head.
“
Back in Nellie's room. Are we
throwing four hundred thousand dollars away just because
Dunville heard Nellie talk
?”

“
He made up his mind to kill us. I could see it
.”

“
But we knew he might
.”
She raised the MP-5.
“
That's why we have these
.”

“
I'm afraid there's more. You remember that tape he showed
?”

”I wondered. You didn't want me to see it
.”

“
Guess who Lisa Benedict's big sister is. I'll give you
a hint. Think of Westport, Connecticut.
”

Her mouth fell open.
“
Benedict
.
.
.
Car
l
a
Benedict
?”

“
The woman she's with is your height, long dark hair,
athletic, plays a strong game of tennis
.”

“
Oh, shit
.”

“
Exactly
.”

“
Molly Fa
rr
ell was with the Fene
rt
y girl. Then Fene
r
ty
called here. Which means
.
.
.
”

”.
.
.
that they both know Lisa Benedict came to Sur
La Mer the day she died. But that Sur La Mer denied it.
What would you do if you were
Carla?'.'

“
I'd come myself. Pick out a Dunville, stick a gun up
his nose and ask him again
.”

“
Say she gets shot for it. What then
?”

Barbara nodded slowly.
“
Ba
nn
e
r
man comes in force
.”

“
Do you want to be here
?”

“
No. But where will we go
?”

Weinberg checked his watch.
“
We'll leave after dark.
That gives us a few hours to think about it. Meanwhile, I
want another look in that safe
.”

Barbara nudged him.
“
Fight's over
.”
She lifted her
chin toward the Du
nv
illes. Young Ca
r
leton had his father in a headlock. The father was slowly sinking to one knee.

“
It's not the closest family I've ever seen
.”
He remem
bered the Polaroid of Henry.

“
They don't think we're such hot guests, either. Don't
count on being asked back
.”

”I won't. We're going to hit them for a refund
.”

Barbara turned thoughtful.
“
Alan
.
.
.
Are you still Alan, by the way
?”

“
For the time being. What is it
?”

“
Before we leave, we should warn that girl
.”

“
The one who called
?”

“
Either that
,”
she said,
“
or leave these two dead
.”

Thirty thousand feet over Colorado, Banne
r
man re
turned to his seat after taking an in-flight call from Anton
Z
iv
i
c.
He was still shaking his head as he settled in next
to Susan Lesko.

“
Is there a problem
?”
she asked.

He took a breath.
“
Would you believe Car
l
a talked to
the serial killer
?”

“
You
'r
e kidding
.”

“
It seems that he called her to say he didn't kill Lisa.
His name is Claude, incidentally
.”
Bannerman stirred the
ice in his scotch. He wished he'd asked for a double.

“
Well
?”
She turned in her seat.
“
Let's hear it
.”

“
That's it
.”
He tossed his hands.
“
Anton finally got through to her. He told her she'd been identified and that she should stay in her bungalow until we can arrange to stash her someplace else. Carla told him to stay off her
phone because Claude might call her back and because
she thinks she might have a line on the real killer. Anton
insisted that she stay put. She hung up on him
.”