Kiss Them Goodbye (34 page)

A
lmost everyone they saw had something to say and at least half an hour had passed before Spike and Ellie ducked under the rope that ran from a railing at the end of the gallery to a tree close to the boundary with Serenity House. Hand-lettered Private signs hung at intervals.

Spike expected to run into rule-breakers on the other side but, apart from two teenagers huddled together against a wall, didn’t see any. “Can you tell me what’s on your mind now?” he asked Ellie.

She looked at the ground and walked on.

He caught her by the arm and waited until she turned her face up to his. She didn’t make a sound but tears ran down her cheeks.

“Ellie,” he said gently. “Tell me. Let me help you now.”

“I’m a coward,” she told him. “I don’t know what’s happening, but please God I haven’t put someone else at risk by saving myself.”

Completely in the dark, Spike bowed his head to look at her more closely. She shook her arm free and took off, hurrying past the conservatory and toward the
side of the north wing. He caught up with her and let her keep moving to the partially cleared but ruined gardens behind Rosebank.

“He told me to take you back here.”

“And he is?”

She shook her head, whipping her curly hair back and forth. “I didn’t see him. He came up behind me in the dark last night. My head…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, you’ve done as he asked.” There were situations in which pressing questions went nowhere. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured and the tears flowed faster. “Why didn’t I get in touch with you last night?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“He threatened me. He would have killed me, I know he would.”

Frustration made Spike’s nerves crawl but he had to let her go at her own pace.

“He
would.
” Ellie sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.

“It’ll be okay,” he told her, with no idea what he was talking about. “You were told to bring me back here. That’s all?”

She put a hand over her mouth and looked past him. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing but the same scene from moments earlier: the gardens, pieces of equipment and the empty pool.

She spoke and Spike had to lean close to hear. “He said to take you to the pool.”

Spike studied the pale stone rectangle more closely. At the far end, steps led down into the drained interior. Empty flower urns stood high at each corner.

“So we can go back now?” Ellie said.

He wanted to agree but figured he ought to take a closer look first. “Stay here,” he told her and scrunched over weed-dotted gravel to the closest end of the pool.

Even through his hat, the sun beat on his head. His mouth grew dry and he thought about cold water—like the water that once filled the old Rosebank pool.

At the raised wall he stopped and squinted toward the opposite end. Small, wet pools glinted in the sunlight. He hadn’t known they’d been testing the plumbing.

Bright pools, or narrow drizzles and drops, he guessed. In the glare they looked more like oil than water.

Planting a boot on the wall, he leaned over to see the shallow end.

The naked corpse, its hands tied behind its back, sprawled, chest down, where the poolside joined the bottom. The head rested on its side. A white rose bloom peeped coyly from beneath a shoulder. The obscene kiss shone sticky bright.

Shaded from the sun, blood didn’t resemble oil at all.

H
e’d about had it with the real-estate business. Driving demanding slobs around, often because they were bored and it was cheap entertainment, sucked.

Well, Bill figured he’d be moving on shortly anyway.

The Bellevue Theater, a pink stucco building baking in the sun, opened onto deserted Crawfish Alley, a bleached, sandy little street without sidewalks. Opposite the old theater, paint peeled from a row of condemned shotgun houses. Other than his own dark gray BMW sedan, the only vehicle in sight was a rusted-out red pickup, not what the would-be theater owners were likely to drive.

The suckers were supposed to meet him there and he’d timed things so they’d show five minutes before him. Timing would be everything today.

Might as well open the doors and let in some air. The place would be a fry pan inside. The doors were double, arched and wide, with a broken lamp on either side. The box office had been shuttered for years. On boards
weathered to paintless gray, layers of paste had petrified the withered fragments of playbills past.

The doors were already open. At least, the right one was cracked an inch or so. The key in Bill’s pocket was supposed to be the only one. He pushed the door all the way open and a lance of blinding light spread over filthy carpet where the single color he could make out had once been red in a fleur-de-lis pattern.

Bill glanced back at the red pickup. Jerks looking for something or someone to break, and in the building to destroy before running away? Or his clients? Wouldn’t be the first time by many that customers found a way to get inside some place before he got there.

The door could be warped and have opened on its own.

Flexing his hands, he stepped inside and stood against a wall. Old habits never died. The kind of habits he’d had to learn had kept him alive this long.

Dust instantly covered his shoes and billowed upward to spin in the light through the door. On the left stood the concession counter, covered with more thick, pale dust. A row of glasses, upside down, made an eerie sight sitting where they’d been left and strung together with skeins of cobwebs. The mirror behind the counter reflected wavery gray shapes in its grimy glass.

Bill turned, taking in the entire lobby. Sure it looked bad, but he didn’t see any water damage. From the back of the ticket office he could see through the glass to where the cashier had sat. On the counter, beside a big brass till, were rolls of tickets and when he investigated he saw they’d been worth a dollar each.

He should suggest that his thespian enthusiasts could make a killing by turning the place into a haunted setup. If they still thought the play must go on, there were plenty of ghoulish productions they could run. Yeah, not a bad idea in a little town that could use a new draw.

In the mud-colored wall that separated the theater from the lobby were three brown baize doors with one tiny, oval window in each.

Bill approached the left one with caution and peered through the bubble glass. The smallest wash from the outside sun settled a faint rim along the back row of seats. He could see where the aisle started downward, but nothing more.

A sudden rumble had him ducking and covering his head. The noise rolled overhead and for an instant he wondered if it could be thunder.

Where the hell were his clients? He had to get back to the fete, the sooner the better.

He heard the rumble again and felt the building vibrate mildly.

If a couple of young toughs thought he was too old to deal with them, they were about to meet some painful truth. Bill pushed into the back of the theater, pulling a minute flashlight shaped like a credit card from his pocket. The device had a strong, directed beam but he wouldn’t use it until he had to.

The sounds he heard came from the direction of the stage. Treading carefully, he walked slowly down the aisle, using his very acute hearing to separate the noise that was different from the creaks he expected in an old building.

More bumping came, and he heard a man laugh. That didn’t sound like a kid. The prospective buyers had availed themselves of a weak lock to push their way in. Funny how few people understood trespass.

“Hey,” he called out.

Silence followed before a man yelled “Hey” back. “We’re looking for the fuse box back here. Should be in one of the wings.”

Using the red beam of his flashlight now, Bill made his way to steps that led up to the stage and climbed to
soiled boards that squealed at his every step. “Which side are you? Left or right? From where I’m standing?”

“Right. I see your light. We could sure use that.”

Bill started for stage left but halted in his tracks. A whirring, a clanking, a whipping together of something overhead caused him to look up.

Just in time for a heavy gauge nylon net to cover and slam him to the ground. Winded, scrabbling with the netting, he tried to get out, but only became more and more twisted inside his cocoon.

“Help,” he cried out, feeling foolish. “I think you touched the wrong thing. Help me get out of this.” He tore at the mesh and felt the nylon strands cut into the palm of his right hand.

He felt but did not see someone move. Somewhere beyond his feet the man pulled on the nylon cords as if he were closing Bill inside like a big fish in a purse seine.

Sweat popped out, then it poured. His shirt stuck to him and his eyes stung. He’d dropped the flashlight.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Money? All I’ve got is what’s in my wallet. My watch?” Wait till he was free, and he would be. He gritted his teeth and said, “Or is it the BMW? Say the word and the keys are yours.” Long ago he’d been taught to decide what was worth fighting for.

“I’ve got money, and a watch, and a car.” The man’s laughter shocked Bill. He’d heard it before.

“Who are you?” he said, squirming. Danger was an old companion but still his stomach twisted.

“Don’t you know me?” More laughter. “Don’t you recognize my voice?”

Bill squeezed his eyes shut and said, “No. You’re mixing me up with someone else.” He wanted to believe it but he knew who had him in a net.

“Don’t you wish. It’s payback time, Brizio,” the man sang out.

Bill struggled to stand up. He felt aware the way he’d learned to be when he faced a threat.

“Nothing to say, not even to your best friend?”

“I don’t have friends, Ulisse. You are very stupid to come here like this. I’ve been merciful. I didn’t track you down as most would have. You should have stayed gone. And you shouldn’t have interfered. It was you, wasn’t it? You killed the gardener and tried to draw attention to me.”

A kick to his kidneys landed him in a gasping heap. He dragged air down an aching throat. “Bastard,” he whispered. “You’re going to pay. Don’t forget who I am.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything about you, including the marks you murdered in certain places.”

“They meant nothing to us. It was a game. We all agreed it was a good way to pass the time and we needed the money.”

“Guido and I never did the killing. You did. We were stupid enough to go along. How do you like the net? Remember what fun you had using them?”

“Shut your fucking mouth. You made all this trouble.
You.
”

“But you’ll pay for it,” Ulisse said. “You’ve been set up and when you crawl out of here, if you do, you’ll be charged with murder. It was unfortunate I had to kill the gardener, but we couldn’t have him wandering around and seeing what you did to the lawyer before I was ready to reel you in. Once he was dead it was pointless not to use him.”

He continued in a droning voice. “Stupid move with the sheriff and the girl in Bayou Lafourche. If they’d died, you’d have brought New Orleans down on your head before it was over. And since you broke out of your little MO they wouldn’t have thought it was the work of any serial killer.”

“The bayou was supposed to be shallow there. They
were supposed to climb out where I could finish them one after the other.”

Ulisse sighed. “Only, you bungled it. I thought you were told to quit the killing. After all, the hit was supposed to be a onetime deal. You always were an overachiever.”

“You knew everything, didn’t you? I wonder how? Have you been in touch with Guido’s friend all along?” Bill surged upward and lunged at a darker confluence of shadows. The laughter came again and a fist smashed into the back of his head. “I did the fat old lawyer because you made it impossible for me to refuse when that other clown told me to. Thanks to you and Guido, he had everything on me and he used it to blackmail me.” He laughed despite himself. “Unfortunately for you, I turned the tables. I’m blackmailing him and to save himself he’ll start singing about you.”

“What a waste, I won’t be here.”

Ulisse kicked Bill’s back, then moved swiftly to land a foot in his windpipe. He struggled to breathe and saw red behind his eyelids.

“You’re the one they’ll lock up forever,” Ulisse said. “If they don’t fry you.”

Laughing caused pain but Bill laughed anyway. “They’ll never suspect me. I’ve been with all the people here. They all like me. I even helped dig up the gardener.”

“That must have been a kick in the balls for you. Nasty surprise, hmm?”

Bill smiled to himself. “It was a gift. Thank you very much. One more piece of evidence to show what a nice, helpful, trustworthy guy I am.”

The knife sliced into his left shoulder and the back of his arm so rapidly he didn’t realize what had happened until it was finished. “What are you doing?” He screamed, felt blood run around the arm, run from the shoulder across his back and down his chest. “Why?”

“For Sylvia and for Guido.”

Bill thrashed. He grimaced against the pain and threw himself around, trying to locate his enemy.

“We were friends,” Ulisse said. “One for all and all for one, but you killed him with as little concern as when you stabbed those others. And you left him to die slowly. Sylvia…no, I won’t talk about Sylvia.”

“Our
leader
committed the ultimate sin. He turned into a saint who couldn’t handle what had to happen to Sylvia, and went mewling to a stranger,” Bill said.

“To someone who had been a close friend since he was a kid. Someone whose opinion he trusted and who he thought could help him decide what he should do. Who could have known he’d made a bad choice and the guy would save the information about you until it was useful to him?”

“Don’t interrupt,” Bill said. “You were the hater. What did that mean to you?”

“It meant I went along with what seemed like a prank at first and all I had to do was say nothing, move like a wolf, and keep telling you how much I hated. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to hate. In the end I stayed in because it was too dangerous to get out. Guido learned that.”

“You screwed my wife,” Bill said, lunging upward again.

“Why didn’t you kill me instead of Sylvia?” Ulisse said.

“She betrayed me.”

Ulisse breathed loudly. “So did I.”

“She was my wife. She belonged to me. She made promises she forgot when she let you fuck her. But I let you live and this is the thanks I get. How did you know where I was?”

“I’ve followed you ever since…ever since. When I was contacted to make a hit, I said I couldn’t do it but I had
a friend who could and he even lived close enough to where the victim would be to spit on the spot. Then I said who you were and he thought I was lying at first. Never underestimate the power of coincidence, asshole. And you didn’t let me live. You couldn’t find me—and I was right behind you all the time.” He snorted. “The only way to make sure you didn’t surprise me was to know where you were.”

“We can talk this through,” Bill said. “We can make it work for us. I know about something you’ve never heard of and it’s worth millions.”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t worth anything to me. I don’t need it. Not even the precious egg I’ve heard about. I loved Sylvia. You didn’t. You treated her like a piece of garbage and thought she should hang around so you could walk on her some more. We’re finished talking.”

Ulisse knew about the egg
? Bill’s arm had turned numb. It felt heavy and cold, except for the hot blood that flowed. “I’m bleeding to death,” he said and coughed, knowing he hadn’t lost enough blood to be in danger yet.

“That’s the whole idea. You’re going to bleed to death and while you do, think of what you did to your wife—my lover. Like you said, you like to kill women. You have played with too many women, Brizio. The net is like a bag, isn’t it? Tied tight. That one might as well be around your neck because it’s going to finish you.”

Bill lay on his side, semi-curled up and quiet as if he were failing. And he tried to work his knife from the sheath strapped to his calf. Thank God he was left-handed.

“I don’t think you’ll reach that knife,” Ulisse said, singsong again. “I hate to say goodbye, but you’ll get over it.”

The man’s blade struck again, this time stabbing into Bill’s ass, once, twice, deep into the flesh.

He felt the bruising agony and faintly heard Ulisse leave, laughing softly as he went.

Bill passed out.

He came to, choking on dust. His right arm felt like granite and his rear end burned all the way to his bones.

The flashlight had to be there, somewhere. He searched as far as he could without moving. A hard object pressed into his thigh. He’d laugh at himself if he had the energy. Right there and he almost missed it. He managed to squeeze it and shoot a red beam around the area. He looked at his watch and could scarcely believe so little time had passed. What the beam passed over on the floor let him know he had to move, at once, and take charge of his condition if he didn’t want to throw away everything he’d worked for. He’d lost a lot of blood. At first he’d had only revenge in mind, a plan to finger the guy who demanded the stuff from Louis Martin, but the stakes had grown far more interesting.

He located his knife and drew it out. With short, ripping slashes he cut through the mesh and struggled free. At the back of the Bellevue there was a broken-down fence. The fence and a narrow trail were all that lay between Bill and a wall behind the cottage he rented.