Muller, Marcia - [McCone 02] - Ask the Cards a Question 3S(v1)(html) (27 page)

I entered the church the way I had before and crept down the hall toward the vestibule. Silence pounded down on me as I mounted the steps. Then I heard scuffling in the main part of the church.

“Please turn on the lights!” Linnea’s voice was raw with terror. “Please! I can’t see!”

At least she was still alive!

The killer chuckled roughly.

The church was dark except for the bulb in the vestibule. Without light my gun was useless. I crossed to the archway and looked down the aisle, but all I saw was the faint glow of the stained-glass window. Linnea sobbed brokenly.

I slid my hand along the wall to the dimmer switch Neverman had played with two nights ago. It was a risk, but one I’d have to take. Rotating it a fraction of an inch, I watched the lights come up, bathing the altar with their pale-yellow glow.

Linnea cried out.

She and Sebastian were on their knees on the raised platform. He crouched behind her, his left arm hooked around her neck. His right clutched the gun he’d taken from Anya’s apartment.

Sebastian’s loss of sight was total, as the personnel man at Standard Oil had told me. He couldn’t even distinguish be tween light and shadow. I rotated the switch some more.

Linnea gasped and struggled.

“Don’t be afraid,” Sebastian said, still oblivious to the change.

I would have shot him then, but I was out of range. Slowly, I started down the aisle.

Linnea saw me. She jerked violently.

“No, no,” crooned Sebastian.

I made a levelling motion with my hands, to signal that Linnea should keep calm.

She stared at me with fear-blanked eyes. Given her instability, could I count on her to help?

After about fifteen seconds, she dipped her chin slightly.

Yes, I understand.

I went down the aisle.

“You killed them both, didn’t you?” Linnea’s voice was less hysterical and very loud.

Good girl. If she kept talking, it would cover my approach.

“I had to.”

“Why? Why did you have to?”

“I had to keep them from going to the police. All I wanted was my money back. But Molly, she sent Gus to the Laundromat and told me she had found out we were selling stolen goods. She said she wanted to get my side of the story before she told the cops.”

“So you
killed
her?”

“They’d promised to give me my money back after they moved the gin. If she told the cops, it would have blown the whole deal. That money was my only way out of here. I snuck back there that night to try to reason with her. She wouldn’t listen. I had a cord in my pocket.” As he spoke, his voice picked up speed and the words began to slur together.

“And next you killed Madame Anya.” Linnea’s eyes were intent on mine as I slipped into the second row of pews.

This story could make little sense to her, but she kept him talking anyway.

“Neverman wouldn’t go back to her. I knew she’d turn us in, just for spite. I sat downstairs in Gus’s apartment thinking how mad she’d be when she figured out he wasn’t coming. I went up there, and she answered the door. She sounded crazy. I couldn’t handle her.”

“You certainly did handle her, you monster! You
strangled
her!”

It was the wrong thing to say. Sebastian jerked Linnea around, pressing her body close to his. I couldn’t see the gun.

“I’m no monster! All I wanted was my money!”

Linnea spoke, but her voice was muffled against Sebastian’s chest.

“Don’t you see?” he asked. “It’s nothing against you. But if they find you in Neverman’s room shot with his own wife’s gun, they’ll be sure he did all three murders. You shouldn’t have grabbed that flashlight and fought with me down there and run away. It’d be all over by now if you hadn’t.”

Linnea’s petite body shuddered. I could see the tremors from where I knelt behind the pew.

“You’ll never get away with this!” Hysteria broke through into Linnea’s voice. “Someone’ll hear the shot!”

“Noise doesn’t carry from here to the dormitory.”

“Herb…”

“Clemente’s still in Los Angeles.”

“You lied to me!” Linnea struggled against him. “You planned this all along!”

I braced my arms on the back of the pew, aiming my gun and waiting for a chance.

“It’s nothing against you,” Sebastian repeated. “I’d rather it was your detective friend. She knows too much.”

Linnea struggled more wildly. She seemed to have forgotten help was there. “You’re crazy! You’re a crazy old bastard!”

I heard a sound in the vestibule. The police.

Sebastian heard it too.

His head cocked, and he hooked his left arm around Linnea. He jammed the gun to her temple and stood, dragging her up with him.

If I shot now, his reflex would put a bullet through her head.

“Who’s there?” Sebastian shouted. “Who’s out there?”

All was still.

Linnea’s frantic eyes pleaded with mine.

I got up and stood in the aisle, feeling absurdly like the little girl who had played pantomime games with her at long ago birthday parties.

Not yet.

I held up my hands.

When I nod…

I mouthed the words. Nodded emphatically.

You…

Pointed to her.

Go limp.

Mimicked a faint.

Went through the whole charade once more.

Comprehension in Linnea’s eyes.

Sebastian standing, head up like an animal in the forest.

“I know someone’s here. Who are you?”

I knelt, once more clasping my gun in both hands, arms braced on the back of the pew. The police presence in the vestibule felt heavy behind me, but no one came to my aid.

Steadying the gun, I took a last look at Linnea.

She nodded, ever so slightly.

Ready.

I took a breath. Waited a few seconds. Nodded.

Linnea went limp.

Sebastian’s gun was deflected upward.

I fired.

The shot split the silence, and Sebastian fell, taking Linnea with him.

I stood, jamming the gun in my bag, and ran to help my friend. She rolled off the altar and burrowed into my arms. The church was suddenly filled with uniformed officers.

I couldn’t look at Sebastian, but I sensed he was dead. Taking no chances, I’d aimed to kill.

Keeping my arms around Linnea, I led her up the aisle. At the top, Greg waited, an odd mixture of pride and anxiety on his face. Linnea stumbled and sobbed, but I held on tight. When we met Greg, he opened his arms and encircled us both. I clung to him and Linnea, safe in the knowledge that I’d won my battle against the death of friendship—twice.

I glanced at my watch and then at the door of the airport bar.

Greg said, “Jesus Christ, Sharon. Linnea’s only been gone four minutes. It probably takes that long even to
find
the ladies’ room.”

I frowned. “If you’re that unconcerned about her, how come you know it’s been exactly four minutes?”

He smiled and covered my hand with his. “Take it easy.”

“I just want to get her on that plane.”

His fingers tightened on mine.

I sipped my wine and stared out the window at a 747 lumbering by. It had been a rough two days, what with the publicity and untangling of red tape. Even though half a dozen cops had witnessed my justifiable homicide, there still had been plenty of red tape.

“Greg,” I said after a moment, “I think it’s time I moved.”

“Maybe.”

“The building absolutely drips gloom. The neighborhood too. Sebastian’s dead. Mr. Moe hung himself.” I shuddered, remembering the newspaper descriptions of the grocer’s body hanging in his stockroom. “Clemente got shot resisting arrest here at the airport, and they don’t know whether he’ll be paralyzed or not.”

“And Neverman’s a two-time loser,” Greg added, “which means he’ll get out on parole, screw up again, and be in a third time for good.”

“All in a few days’ work,” I said bitterly.

Greg squeezed my hand. “Goes with the territory.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Nor I.” He paused. “At least you can afford to move if you want. The check from Circle Wharf and Warehouse was very generous.”

John Hood had delivered it in person yesterday. “Yes, but I hate to spend it on movers.”

“Well, think about it.”

“What I’d rather spend it on is a vacation…”

Linnea reentered the bar, her hair smoothed and lipstick freshened. She sat down at the table and sipped at her Perrier with lime.

Apparently she noted my approving glance at her drink, because she said, “Yeah. I want to be sober when I see my kids.”

“I’ll bet they’ll be glad you’re back.”

“They sure will. They need a mother and a home of their own. The latter may take some time.”

Greg asked, “What do you plan to do?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Once upon a time I was a damned good newswoman. I might approach the TV station I used to work for about a job.”

“What do you think your chances are?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, given the job market.”

I said, “You know, San Francisco’s a good town for women in broadcasting. If it doesn’t work out in San Diego, you could always come up and stay with me while you interview the local stations.”

Linnea grinned. “It takes a certain amount of courage to extend that invitation, given what I did to your life these past few weeks. I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Greg said, “no one ever accused Sharon of being without courage. Common sense, maybe.”

I glared. “I caught your killer, didn’t I?”

“And almost got Linnea killed.”

“But she wasn’t, was she?”

“You’re lucky you still have a license.”

“You’re lucky you still have a badge!”

“The only reason that was ever in jeopardy is because I listened to you.”

“Stop fighting!” Linnea ordered.

The corner of Greg’s mouth twitched. “Sharon, will we ever exist in harmony?”

“I’m not sure I want to. Arguing with you is a challenge.”

“Speaking of challenges,” Linnea said, “I want to know how you figured out Sebastian was the killer. You said you knew it was him when you called the cops and asked for quiet assistance, but how?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I had some clues. Clemente had told me that blind people can do almost anything sighted people can, given the proper training. Sebastian had received plenty of that. The killer had to know Anya had a gun in her table in order to take it. Sebastian had heard Gus joke with Anya about it. And Sebastian himself tipped me to an important fact.”

“Which was?”

“He said he could get around places he knew perfectly well with the aid of his cane. The places he knew included the Blind Center, the streets and alleys of the neighborhood, and my apartment building.”

“Ah hah.” Linnea nodded.

“I only wish I’d listened more carefully—and sooner,” I added.

“You put it together in enough time.” Greg looked at his watch. “Your flight’s about to leave, Linnea.”

We passed through the security check and walked down the concourse in silence. At the gate, Linnea hugged us and then hurried toward the plane, as if afraid she’d change her mind. Greg and I leaned on the railing watching the other passengers board.

“Well, papoose,” he said, “what now?”

“Now?”

“With us.”

I glanced at him. His face was serious, without any trace of his characteristic mockery.

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“It takes time for two people like us to build a relationship.”

“That it does.”

“I’m willing to wait, but in the meantime…” He fished in his trenchcoat pocket and tossed an object at me.

I caught it. What else? Nestle’s Crunch chocolate bar.

[scanned anonymously in a galaxy far far away]

[A 3S Release— v1, html]

[May 25, 2006]