Meeting Evil (25 page)

“But when you’re there,
people don’t get hurt
.”

The corners of Richie’s thin mouth rose, but whether or not it was in good humor John could not have said. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“For God’s sake, you killed somebody
there?
“

“I had some trouble once,” Richie said, staring at John.

“It was self-defense.”

“Yet they released you?”

Richie threw up his hands. “It was their idea, not mine. I have a very low opinion of them, if you want to know.”

“The doctors?”

“If you think about it,” said Richie, “we’re all human. Where do some people get off setting themselves up as better?”

“Yeah,” said John.

Joanie came in with the steak, which at another time would
have been John’s idea of a spectacular feed (it came from Uncle Phil’s private source of aged beef) but now was seen as disgustingly big and thick and oozing with pinkish fluid. It lay on a platter which she held at a distance from her body, for she had divested herself of the apron.

“Golly,” Richie said as she deposited the dish on a silver trivet between him and John.

John could not bring himself to go find the proper carving knife. Before Joan could object, he sawed off a hunk of meat with his steak knife (which, though it had been sufficiently sharp to slice the skin of his thumb, was dull at this job) and dropped it on Richie’s plate.

Joan brought the candlesticks from the sideboard, found matches in a drawer, and lighted both candles, which were virgin. Had they dined alone, she would have switched off the overhead fixture, a modest four-branched chandelier, but fortunately did not do so now. She sat down at the other end of the table, facing John. Richie was on his right and her left.

John wondered what she would say when she saw that only one potato puff remained, or that his plate was as clean as when it had been put down, his glass empty. But if she noticed any of these phenomena, she left it unmentioned. She reached for the bottle and gave herself some red wine.

Richie had politely waited till this moment. He began to cut his meat into small squares.

Joan lifted her glass. “Okay,” she said. “A toast to the sale. I want to hear all about it.”

John raised his glass and drank air. “How much should I cut you?” he then asked, steak knife and fork hovering over the meat.

Joanie shrugged. “It got so late by the time I heard from you, I had a snack when the kids ate. Then this excitement.” She pinched her fingers at him. “
Real
thin.”

Richie meanwhile was chewing each little cube by itself, making a quick, emphatic event of it.

Joan looked from one to the other with a big smile. John’s sightline to her, unless he leaned to the left, was narrow, between the two candles. It was up to him to invent the story. “It’s the Murchison place.”

“I don’t even think I know about that one,” said she. “Has it been listed long?”

His knife had grown no sharper. It was impossible to cut a reasonably thin slice, so he stopped trying. He realized that Joanie did not really want any steak.

“A long, long time. Tess and Miriam had given up on it.”

Joan waited for more, but not getting it, smiled at Richie. “I’m sure you’ve got your plans.”

Maliciously John said, “I imagine you heard all about his plans when you had coffee.”

Joan looked fondly at Richie. “Fact is, I think I did most of the talking. We never did get around to his business. He’s the rare man who’s interested in what someone else says, a woman no less.”

So that was it: Richie as feminist.

“He’s in pharmaceuticals,” John told her.

“I’m impressed,” said Joan. “Just the word, to begin with.”

Richie seemed to brood for a moment, but then laughed cheerily.

“You haven’t mentioned your family,” said Joan. “You know your way around children!”

Richie took a while to answer. “I used to be married. But she didn’t want kids.”

“Some people are like that. That’s their right. Now with us, it was a calculated decision to go ahead and have the family and postpone the rest.” Joan shrugged. “Not that I don’t sometimes regret it, but—”

Richie asked, “What I wonder is why John doesn’t go into some field where the income is more certain.”

John was utterly taken by surprise, but if Joanie was embarrassed by the rudeness of the comment, she did not show it.

“That’s just lately, with the downturn. John’s made good money and will again. He’s a terrific salesman.”

John was moved. He could not recall ever having heard her defend him in public before. When members of her family were snide, she avoided the issue, went to the bathroom or whatever.

“He’s got tremendous potential he hasn’t yet used,” Richie said. He speared a cube of steak and masticated it rapidly, waving his fork. “I’m trying to get him to listen to some proposals of mine.”

“Really?” Joan smiled at her husband.

“The risks would be all mine, I assure you,” Richie went on. “But I happen to see great possibilities.”

Joan asked John, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

John looked away.

“I can put him in the way of something big, Joanie,” Richie said. He put his fork down and swiveled his head, surveying the room. “Do you want to live here forever?”

Once again Joan showed no evidence she was offended. “I’ve been after John just lately to look for something farther out, with more land between us and the neighbors, cleaner air.” She glanced at John. “Weren’t you out in the country someplace today?”

The phone was ringing. John went into the kitchen, where he answered on the wall-hung instrument.

“John. Lang again. There’s reason to think Maranville checked into a Red Wing Motel this afternoon, just off the motorway at Exit Eleven, using a driver’s license and credit
card name of Charles F. Brookhiser. Earlier in the day, right here in town, Brookhiser reported he was robbed by a perpetrator answering Maranville’s description. Got his car and wallet with everything in it. Motel’s the nearest to where the Smithtown cruiser was abandoned.”

“Thanks,” John said when Lang paused for a breath.

“There’s more. Short time later a big fire broke out at the Red Wing. Took hours to put out, and the motel was just about totaled. Management and the volunteer fire department out there suspect arson. A burned body was found in the room Maranville checked into. Desk clerk’s the last person reported who saw him. They’re getting dental records from Barnes Psychiatric.”

“It’s him, all right,” John said. “That’s exactly what he would do.”

“Better hold off on the celebrations, though. Be on the safe side.”

“I
know
it’s him. Anybody else get hurt?”

“Early in the day, and business wasn’t too great, luckily. That part of the unit was empty except for a man next door, who was out at the time. And not back yet. They will talk to him when he returns. But it looks good for our side.”

“You said he would just have been sent back to Barnes.”

“You got it absolutely,” Lang said.

“He’s finished now, though,” said John. “I know that was him who got burned. You can call off the stakeout of my house.”

“We’ll wait for the confirmation, but meanwhile it’s a bad night for law enforcement so far: felonies all over the place, all at once. If we get a call out your way, like a routine thing, disturbing the peace or something, they might give it to that car, but it wouldn’t take him out of the neighborhood.”

“Sure,” said John. The situation would not change. If he
had apprised Lang, it could only have led to a hostage arrangement—which did not exist at present—and an assault team would arrive sooner or later. What that would mean in terms of psychic damage (not to mention the possibility of physical harm) to his babies and his wife could be imagined. He still respected the police, even after the manhandling by the state troopers, but he had convinced himself that he must not look for their help in his extremity. By now he felt selfish about it.

When he returned to the dining room, Joan excused herself and left the room, presumably heading for the lavatory. She seemed to be walking steadily. She had not drunk much wine.

As soon as she was gone, John stared at Richie. “Did you check into a motel after I left the car this afternoon?”

Richie removed the glasses and rubbed his closed eyelids. “I really don’t know how people can wear these things all day, though maybe it’s different if you’ve got your own prescription. Ever wear glasses, John?”

“You took those from the man you killed at the motel, didn’t you? You took his clothes and car and glasses.”

Richie opened his eyes, which were now slightly pink from the rubbing. “Have you got one complaint about what I’ve been doing since I arrived at your house? I’ve been knocking myself out to do the right thing, but you won’t give me any credit at all.” He shook his head and changed his tone from the purely plaintive. “You just remember that if… You just realize, nobody could have tried harder.”

“Is that a threat of some kind, you dirty bastard?”

“You ought to know me better than that,” Richie said loftily. “I’m just concerned about you and yours if the cops throw the lead around. I don’t want you to blame
me
, because frankly I think you have a tendency to do that. You
understand, I like and admire you a whole lot, but I can’t ignore your tendency to evade personal responsibility for your problems. You don’t use anything like your real potential. That’s the fault of the economy! It’s Joanie’s fault you got married so young and have kids to support, so you can’t afford a better way of life.” Richie showed his wry expression. “Sorry, John, but I finally had to give you a dose of your own medicine, show you what it feels like to be criticized by your best friend.”

“Which I am not,” said John. “You’re my worst enemy. I would like to know you were removed from the earth.” In saying this he realized he had lost control, but he got satisfaction in so doing. He was an amateur at murderous emotion. Just expressing it seemed to put him at an advantage, even though he was rationally aware that it would probably be considered a weakness by professionals in the field, among whom Richie was surely preeminent.

Richie was not offended. “That’s just an idea of yours, John. It might sound good at the moment, but it doesn’t really mean anything, because obviously you can’t press a button and make me disappear, and what you certainly don’t mean is murdering me in cold blood, even if you had a motive, and how would you get one? I’ve always been nice to you and yours, and that’s all you care about in all the world.”

Could he be right? But now Joanie was back.

“How are the kids?” Richie asked.

“Out cold.”

It had not occurred to John that that was what she had been doing during her absence. Now he found her choice of words disquieting. “They’re okay?”

She sighed. “Why wouldn’t they be? They drove me nuts all day. But
they
had a great time. Then Randy came and spoiled them rottener. Did I tell you he wanted to give Melanie
a hundred-dollar bill?” Joan chided Richie. “I mean,
really
.”

“Such great kids,” Richie said, simpering at her.

“Hey,” Joan jokingly proposed, “you wouldn’t be interested in including them in the home deal? Take ‘em for free! Have an instant houseful.” She moued. “That’s the way I feel after a day like this one.”

John said anxiously, “It’s the same every day. You’ve got one coming. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

“That reminds me,” Joan said. “Tess called a couple of hours ago and said something about vouching for you with the
police?
What was that all about?”

“I don’t know. Parking ticket, maybe.”

She smiled at Richie. “Excuse the personal stuff. Do you drink regular coffee?”

John seized the salad bowl and went to the kitchen, where anxiety kept him moving purposelessly about until Joan appeared with more dishes, stacked neatly atop the steak platter.

“I’ll just get the dessert,” Joan said.

“Dessert?”

“Of course. What’s wrong with you? Why are you so nervous? You didn’t even eat much.”

“I didn’t eat anything.”

“Aren’t you feeling well?” But she had turned to the refrigerator before giving him a chance to answer.

He lowered his voice and spoke to the back of her head. “It’s him. He’s—”

She turned around and said, indulgently, “A little drunk, I know. I guess that’s permissible, among friends.”

She was about to revolve again, but John restrained her with a hand to her wrist. “He’s not what he seems.”

“Is that some song?”

“I’m serious, Joan. I wish you wouldn’t encourage him to stay. I’ll explain later.”

The request irritated her. “Look, I’m the one who has been stuck at home all day. I can use the company, believe me!”

“He’s not drunk,” said John. “He’s crazy.”

“I’ve been talking to the man for hours now,” Joan said. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He wants to help us. Is that crazy? Are
you
drunk?” She peered closely at him for an instant. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous. Is that it? You think something was going on while we were here alone?” She was enjoying this.

“No,” John said humorlessly. “Of course not. Please, Joanie, I’m not kidding. He’s dangerous.” He had not wanted to go that far, but she was laughing at him.

“This is another of these jokes you’ve started to pull today, right? That’s what a sale does?” She spun around gleefully and opened the freezer compartment. “Enough ice cream left. What I forgot to do, though, was take it out earlier so it could soften some. Will you get those glass dishes for me?” She was acting as if he had not said a word.

Incredulous, he asked, “Do you think I’d just say something like that and let it go?”

Joan gestured with the gallon container of strawberry ice cream, which neither of them much liked, but Melanie would eat no other flavor. “Don’t ask me to explain your recent behavior. It’s all new to me. But if it continues to sell houses, I’m not criticizing.”

John was about to speak when Richie appeared with all the rest of the dinner dishes, including that bearing the untouched peas-and-carrots. He deposited them on the nearest clear portion of the counter. “Can I take something out?”