Have a Nice Night (21 page)

She stood over the two men lying unconscious at her feet.

'Pedro, try to listen to me,' she said softly. 'You are now going to be revenged. You will now be able to sleep in peace. Wherever you are, I pray you will see what your wife who has never ceased to love you, will now do to these two animals as you would want me to do to them.'

She drew the knife and knelt by Manuel's inert body. She looked with loathing at the bearded face.

'You claim to be a man of truth,' she said softly. 'All our people trusted you. You promised me my husband. You lied about the bombs. You have no machine with you to explode the bombs. You persuaded me to take great risks to hide these so-called bombs. You didn't care! All you thought about was money, you man of truth.'

On the dark horizon, a glimmer of light began to show. The sun was beginning to rise. In an hour or so, it would be dawn.

'So I punish you, you man of untruth,' Anita whispered.

She thumbed back Manuel's eyelid. Her hand steady, she gently inserted the point of her knife into Manuel's retina and turned the knife gently. Leaning over him, she did the same to his left eye.

'Sightless, man of untruth, no one will come to you. No one will be betrayed by you as you have betrayed me. Live in your misery.'

As blood began to ooze out of Manuel's eyes, she got to her feet and knelt by Fuentes.

'If it wasn't for you,' she said, her voice harsh, 'Pedro would be alive now.'

Holding the haft of the knife in both hands, she began to hack and stab the unconscious body with maniacal fury.

The first rays of the sun began to light up the sky when she walked into the living room. She went into Wilbur's bathroom and washed the blood off her hands. She then washed the knife.

She felt calmer, but not satisfied. Pedro could still not rest in peace until this detective who had shot him was dead. She paused to think. What was his name? For a long moment, she was frightened she had forgotten, then the name came clearly to her: Tom Lepski.

But where was he? How could she find him? She didn't even know what he looked like! She thought again, then going into the living room, she found the local telephone book. It took her only a few minutes to locate Lepski's home address.

Again, she paused to think. This detective wouldn't be as easy a target as Manuel and Fuentes. It would be dangerous to get close to him and use her knife. She ran to where she had left Fuentes' gun. Snatching it up, she left the penthouse and ran silently down the service stairs, down to the staff entrance, and out into the day, the start of yet another hot, humid day.

At 07.30 Lepski was beginning his breakfast of three fried eggs and a quarter-inch thick ham, grilled crisp.

Carroll sat opposite him and watched him munch with growing envy. Carroll was a weight watcher, and only allowed herself a cup of sugarless coffee for breakfast, but this morning, watching Lepski eat, she felt gnawing pangs of hunger. Being a woman of considerable willpower, she resisted the violent temptation of snatching Lepski's plate away and finishing up the ham and the remaining egg. However, she could not resist expressing her criticism.

'Lepski! You eat too much!' she said as Lepski speared his third egg.

'Yeah,' Lepski said. 'This is a great bit of ham.'

'You're not listening. You don't need such a heavy breakfast. Look at me! I only drink coffee without sugar!'

Lepski added more sugar to his coffee, then cut another piece of ham, then reached for another piece of toast.

'I've got to have a good start for the day.' He conveyed the food into his mouth and munched. 'After all, baby, I have a heavy day's work. I've got to keep my strength up --'

'You? Work! Let me tell you, Lepski, I know how you work! Most of the days you're sitting with your feet on your desk, reading the comics. When you're not doing that, you're propping up a bar making out you are a hot-shot detective. Work! You don't know the meaning of work. What about me? Me, who cleans the house, cooks your meals, washes your shirts? Me!'

Lepski had heard all this before. He gave her his oily smile.

'You're right, baby. I wouldn't know what I would do without you.'

Carroll snorted. 'All men say that!' she snapped. 'It doesn't fool any of us. From now on for the sake of your health, you will only have one egg and a morsel of ham. You'll feel and look better for it.'

Lepski widened his oily smile.

'No, baby, I've a better idea. You have one egg and a morsel of ham and I'll have my usual breakfast.'

Carroll was about to clash horns when the front door bell rang.

'Now, who can that be?' she said, pushing back her chair.

Lepski grabbed another piece of toast.

'Go ahead, baby, satisfy your curiosity,' he said, slapping butter on the toast.

'Why don't you go?' Carroll demanded. 'Do I have to do everything in this house?'

'Could be the mail man, baby, with a big, fat present for you,' Lepski said, slapping marmalade on his toast.

With an exasperated sigh, Carroll got up, walked down the passage and jerked open the front door.

To her startled surprise, she found herself confronted by a short, squat Cuban woman, dressed in black slacks and a black sweat shirt.

'Yes?' Carroll said. 'What is it?'

'I want to speak to Mr. Lepski,' Anita said. Her right hand, hidden behind her back, gripped the .38 revolver that Fuentes had dropped.

'My husband is having breakfast,' Carroll said stiffly. 'He doesn't like to be disturbed. Who are you?'

Anita regarded this good looking woman standing before her. In her unhinged mind she wondered if this woman would suffer, as she was suffering, to lose her husband.

'I am Anita Certes,' she said. 'Mr. Lepski wants to talk to me about my husband.'

'You should have gone to the station house,' Carroll said. 'Stay here. I'll ask him.'

Lepski had wiped his plate clean. He was finishing his third cup of coffee when Carroll came into the living room.

'There's a Cuban woman,' Carroll said. 'She wants to talk to you. Her name is Anita Certes.'

Lepski sprang up, kicking his chair away.

'For the love of Mike!' he exploded. 'We've been hunting for this woman!'

Pushing Carroll aside, he stormed down the corridor to face Anita who was standing motionless.

'Are you Tom Lepski?' she asked.

A sudden feeling of chill ran through Lepski as he looked into the black, stony eyes. From experience, he knew when someone was dangerous and this woman was. He realized that his gun was in the bedroom.

'Are you the man who shot my husband?' Anita asked.

'Let's talk about it, huh?' Lepski said, gently.

He realized by her expression and by her wild eyes that this woman facing him was out of her mind.

'Come on in.'

Then be saw the gun in Anita's hand, pointing at him.

Carroll, standing behind him, also saw the gun.

'Die then,' Anita said softly and pulled the trigger.

Lepski felt a thump against his heart. He started back, caught his heel on the carpet and fell heavily. His head slammed against the floor.

Anita stood over him and fired three more shots, then she turned and ran down the path and onto the street.

She wasn't to know that the gun Manuel had given Fuentes had been loaded with blanks. Manuel had distrusted Fuentes as Fuentes had distrusted him.

Seeing Lepski spread out on the floor, hearing the bang of gun fire, Carroll closed her eyes. She wasn't the fainting type. For a long moment, she remained motionless, then pulling herself together, she moved forward and knelt by Lepski's side.

This awful woman had killed him!

Cradling his head in her arms, she began to kiss him. Lepski stirred, then his arms went around her.

'More,' he said. 'Much more.'

Carroll released him. 'I thought you were dead!'

'I thought so too.'

Lepski sat up and began to rub the back of his head.

'Am I dead?'

Carroll looked at his shirt.

'There's no blood. Don't talk stupid. Of course, you're not dead!'

A little fearfully, Lepski surveyed his shirt front that showed black powder burns. Then he opened his shirt and surveyed his chest. Then with a snarl, he jumped to his feet.

'Which way did she go?' he bawled.

'How do I know? Oh, Tom, my love, I really thought you were dead!'

'That makes two of us.'

Lepski rushed into the bedroom, grabbed up his revolver and snapped it in the holster on his belt, then he rushed back down the corridor.

Carroll caught hold of his arm as he headed for the street.

'Don't go out there! She's dangerous! No, Tom! Please!'

Lepski disentangled his arm.

'Baby, this is police work,' he said with a heroic smile that was just short of being corny. 'Look, call Beigler. Get the boys down here, okay?'

'Oh, Tom! If anything should happen to you!' There were tears in Carroll's eyes.

Lepski loved it. He kissed her.

'Three eggs tomorrow?'

'Four if you want them. Do be careful!'

'Call Beigler.'

Then bracing himself, Lepski, his hand on his gun butt, strode down the short drive onto the deserted street. Here he paused and looked to right and left. This crazy woman could not have gone far, but in which direction?

Then at the far end of the street he saw Ted, the newspaper delivery boy, approaching, tossing the papers onto people's porches. Lepski ran towards him.

'Hi, Ted!' he bawled.

The boy, thin, tall with a perpetually open mouth, gaped, then waved and came towards Lepski, peddling his bike furiously. Lepski knew this boy was not only simple-minded, but more than retarded. He knew this boy worshipped him. Ted had told him his greatest ambition was to be as fine a cop as Lepski. Although flattered, Lepski decided that Ted's ambition was geared a lot too high.

'Hi, Mr. Lepski,' Ted said, coming to rest by Lepski's side. 'How's crime?'

Lepski knew how to get the best out of Ted. He must not fluster him.

'Well, you know, Ted, they come and they go.'

Ted considered this remark thoughtfully, then he nodded.

'You're dead right, Mr. Lepski. They sure come and they sure go.'

He eyed the gun on Lepski's hip. 'You ever shoot anyone with that rod, Mr. Lepski?'

'Look, Ted, did you see a woman, dressed in black coming your way?'

'I bet you have shot all kinds of thugs with that gun,' Ted said wistfully. 'One of these days, I'm going to be a cop and I'll shoot thugs too.'

Lepski contained his impatience with an effort.

'Sure, Ted, but did you see a woman, dressed in black on the street just now?'

The boy dragged his eyes away from Lepski's gun.

'A woman?' he asked.

Lepski shuffled his feet. 'A woman in black.'

'Why sure, Mr. Lepski. I saw her.'

'Where did she go?'

'Go?'

'That's right,' Lepski said, his blood pressure rising. 'Which way did she go?'

'Why I guess she went into the church.'

The boy thought, then shrugged. 'You ever know anyone who would run to church? My ma has to drag me to church.'

At the far end of the street was the Church of St. Mary. As Lepski began to run towards it a patrol car arrived. Two uniformed men spilled out while Ted stared, fascinated.

'The church!' Lepski snapped. 'Watch it! She's got a gun!'

Leading the way, Lepski walked down the long street, followed by the two cops who had drawn their guns. They were immediately noticed by the neighbors who saw them from their windows, and people came out of their houses as another patrol car arrived. Then a police car came hurtling down the street to pull up with a squeal of burning tyres and Max Jacoby jumped out with two other plain-clothes detectives.

Lepski, now the center of all eyes, paused. Ever since he had lived on this street, he had heard his neighbors say to Carroll that he was the best and most efficient detective on the force. Now was the time to hammer that praise home!

'What the hell's going on?' Jacoby demanded.

'Anita Certes,' Lepski said. 'She's out of her mind. She tried to kill me, but I guess the gun was loaded with blanks. She's in the church.'

'Well, okay, let's go get her,' Jacoby said, pulling his gun.

The group of men, guns in hand, converged on the church. The doors stood open. From the church came the smell of incense.

Lepski, with Jacoby close behind him, moved cautiously into the church, then paused. At the far end of the aisle of the church were brightly burning candles. The altar was lit by flickering candle flames.

Lepski moved forward, then stopped. Lying before the altar, he could see the Cuban woman. Blood was trickling down the steps of the altar. The haft of a knife grew out of her heart.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Wilbur Warrenton came slowly awake. He stared around the deluxe living room, shook his head, then snapped upright. He looked at his wife by his side. She too was moving. He touched her arm gently, and her eyes opened. They looked at each other.

'What happened?' Maria asked. 'Have they gone?'

He looked around the living room. 'Yes, I think they have gone.'

She sat up as Wilbur hauled himself unsteadily to his feet.

'We must have been drugged.'

'Drugged?' Maria stared at him. 'How could we have been drugged?'

'What other explanation is there? Anyway, they have gone. There's no one here.'

'It's like a nightmare.' Maria stroked her throat, then she let out a faint scream.

'Oh my God! The bastards have taken my diamonds!'

She jumped to her feet and would have fallen if Wilbur hadn't steadied her.

'My lovely diamonds! They've gone!'

'Maria!' Wilbur said sharply. 'Don't get hysterical. Sit down!'

'My diamonds! What will father say? They cost ten million dollars! The bastards! I've lost my diamonds!' Maria's voice rose to a shrill screech.

'You haven't lost them,' Wilbur said. 'Stop this nonsense!'

Maria flared at him. 'How dare you talk like that to me!'