Lucifer's Weekend (Digger) (21 page)

There was another voice and Digger turned to see Amanda Belton standing in the doorway of the room.

She was staring at her husband. "You had Vern murdered?" she said.

Belton looked down at the floor.

"Answer me," she screamed.

He was silent, and Digger said, "Maybe the cat’s got his tongue."

She walked over to her husband and stood alongside the small sofa. "He’s right," she screamed. "You are an impotent old bastard. And a fucking murderer. Lucius, you son of a bitch." She turned to Digger. "Whatever your name is, get the police here. I’ll testify against this son of a bitch. I hope he fries. And when he does, I’m going to inherit that entire goddamn company, and you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to take my son,
my
son, goddammit, and I’m going to change his name to Gillette. And then I’m going to change the name of the company to Gillette. Lucius…fucking murder?" She shook her head as if mystified.

"You’ll do nothing like that," Belton shouted. "He’s my son. And it’s my company."

"Not anymore," Amanda said. "Not anymore."

Belton hopped to his feet, his face twisted with rage and fury. Suddenly, his body seemed to shake uncontrollably and his face contorted. He clapped both hands to the center of his chest. His eyes looked as if they were going to burst from their deep sockets.

"You can’t…" he rasped from deep back in his throat, and then he fell. He hit the carpet face first and then crumpled onto his side. His eyes were wide open, staring at nothing and at everything. Instinctively, Amanda Belton started to his side, when Harker leaped off the sofa and threw his arm around Mrs. Belton’s neck. He turned her so that she was between him and Digger like a shield.

"You’re so goddamn smart, Burroughs, aren’t you? Go ahead. Shoot. Kill her. Go ahead."

He dragged the woman toward the door to the office. Digger pointed the gun in their direction, but he knew that he could not fire for fear of hitting the woman.

"How far you going to get, Harker?" Digger asked.

"Anyplace away from here," Harker said. He was in the doorway now. He stepped back through the doorway, pushed Mrs. Belton toward Digger and fled down the hall.

"In a pig’s ass," Digger said. He turned to Koko, who was just hanging up the telephone. She looked as cool as an executive’s secretary who had just finished booking him an airline flight.

"They’re on their way," she said.

"Take care of Mrs. Belton," Digger said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Gus’s small pistol. He dropped it into Koko’s hand and said, "Here. Shoot anybody who pesters you." Then he turned and ran out the door.

Harker’s police car was already speeding down the driveway when Digger got outside. He looked around and saw the Mercedes Benz limousine parked in the circular drive. The keys were in it, and Digger started it up, dropped the automatic shift lever into "drive" and sped off around the circular parking area. Down at the gates, he saw that Harker’s green-and-yellow prowl car had stopped and that the cop was getting out to go to the booth to unlock the gates. Digger stepped on the gas harder as the cop vanished into the booth. A split second later Harker peered out, saw the onrushing Mercedes Benz and raised a pistol.

Damn, Digger thought. I should have known he’d have another gun in the car.

Harker stood in the doorway of the booth, firing at the speeding limousine. Digger heard two bullets ping off the metal body of the car and then the windshield went star-burst crazed as a bullet hit it. Digger spun the wheel and aimed the big armored sedan at the guard booth. It hit with a thump and then a cracking sound of wood. He saw Harker’s body flying through the air and landing in a lump on the grass, five feet away.

Digger stopped the limousine and walked over to the cop. He was conscious and groaning, and when he saw Digger standing over him, he hissed, "You bastard."

Digger rolled him over with his toe, removed the policeman’s handcuffs from the back of his belt and handcuffed a wrist and ankle behind his back. He stood up and looked down at his handiwork, pleased with the day’s work.

"All’s well that ends well," Digger said and then strolled back toward the house.

Digger had just finished explaining everything to a state police lieutenant, who managed to look confused and annoyed at the same time. They were in another room in the Belton home, along with Koko and Mrs. Belton.

"And that’s it, Lieutenant," Digger said. "Mrs. Belton will confirm everything I said. And I guess Harker will too."

"I hate complicated cases like this," the lieutenant said.

"A man after my own heart," Digger said, and then a thought occurred to him.

"Lieutenant, how long can a person live in the trunk of a car?"

"I don’t know. Why?"

"’Cause the gatekeeper’s in the trunk of my car. It’s parked on the road outside," Digger said.

"Jesus Christ. Is there anything else you’ve done today to screw up Pennsylvania?"

"Well, there’s one thing," Digger said. "There’s this doctor in town. I’ve got him tied up and he ought to be getting pretty muscle-sore about now."

Driving back to Gus’s LaGrande Inn, Digger told Koko, "Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed your weekend with me in the country."

"Ahhh, the weekend’s over already and we didn’t get a chance to go horseback riding," she said.

Digger sighed. "I know. That’s the way it is, though. Time flies when you’re having fun."

Chapter Twenty

"This is Julian Burroughs, let me talk to Brackler."

"Just a moment, I’ll see if he’s in."

"Of course he’s in—let me talk to him."

"Just a moment, sir, I’ll see."

"I hope you give good head, because your telephone technique is crapola."

"I beg your pardon. What did you say?"

"Eight times I said, let me talk to Kwash.
That
you don’t hear. Once I make a personal comment and suddenly you’ve got bat ears. Let me talk to Kwash."

"I’ll see if he’s in."

"Kwash, how much money did I save the company up in Belton?"

"Well, you might say—"

"Might say, my ass. I saved you guys five hundred thousand dollars."

"All right. So what?"

"Then why did you cut down my expense check?"

"Digger, I’ve seen the way you dress. Don’t tell me that that ripped jacket cost four hundred fifty dollars and your trousers cost two hundred. Your whole wardrobe isn’t worth six hundred fifty dollars."

"Not if you’re talking about resale value," Digger said. "But there are other kinds of value."

"You’re telling me this jacket and pants had sentimental value?" Walter Brackler said.

"Yes, goddammit, they were a gift from my mother. She bought the jacket at Jacket City. The pants from Pants City. They’re irreplaceable. From my mother, God rest her soul."

"Your mother’s still alive; I saw her last month."

"Then God rest my soul," Digger said.

"I’ll give you a hundred bucks for the set," Brackler said.

"That’s ridiculous. Today, you can hardly buy a pair of pants for a hundred dollars. Much less a jacket."

"
You
can," Brackler said. "A hundred bucks."

"Three hundred," Digger said. "Not a penny less."

"Two hundred. Take it or leave it."

"You’re a hard man, Kwash."

"Take it or leave it."

"You’ve got no soul," Digger said.

"Two hundred. That’s it."

"I’ll take it," Digger said.

"I have this feeling I’m still being robbed," Brackler said.

"Best bargain you’ve ever made," Digger said. "Those garments were irreplaceable."

When he hung up the telephone, Koko called out from the kitchen of their Las Vegas condominium, "How’d you make out?"

"He cheated me out of four hundred and fifty dollars," Digger said.

"You’ll get even," she said.

"You bet I will." He lay in bed, smoking a cigarette, then picked up the telephone again, got a number from information and dialed.

"Hello, Flower City? This is Digger. I know, I know, your name’s not Flower City. I was thinking of something else. I’m okay. You? Good. Listen, I want to send some flowers to somebody. Yes. Her name is Ardath Gillette." He gave the address in Belton, Pennsylvania. "How much? Okay. Send her four hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of flowers. That’s right. Four hundred and fifty. Yeah. Right. And bill them to my company account. Right. That’s Brokers Surety Life Insurance. Thanks. No card. Be sure to mark the bill to the attention of Walter Brackler."