Murder is Academic (29 page)

I estimated that over an hour passed in my effort to locate the road. I sat down on a fallen tree limb and then continued on. Finally, the road appeared just to my right, and I headed south on it toward the field station. I was shivering harder, telling myself to put one foot ahead of the other, one foot ahead of the other. I sunk to the pavement. I couldn’t do it.
Oh, Guy, are you alright?

Headlights blinded me. Thank God. Rescue. The car screeched to a halt. It was Der.

“Nice swim suit.” He reached into the back seat, pulled out a blanket, and wrapped it around me.

“We’ve got to get back to the station. Guy…”

“Guy’s fine. We found him several minutes ago, and he’s on his way to the hospital. He told me what happened.”

Before Der could finish his sentence, I was in the car and urging him to drive. My fatigue was gone. On the way to the hospital, I told him about Donald Hall and where I left him. He radioed headquarters and asked for a county sheriff’s boat to search the lake.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Guy was admitted and was being taken to a room. Once he was settled, they would let me see him for a few minutes.

“Boy, am I glad to see you’re okay.” Guy was propped up in bed and smiling. It was a small smile, but it was a smile.

I ran to the bed and hugged him.

“It was just a whack on the head, that’s all. I’ve got all the feeling and movement back in my arms and legs now.”

“What about the gun shot I heard as I ran out of there?”

“When I threw my arms around his legs, he dropped the gun, then grappled around in the dark for it. It went off, he dropped it again, picked it up and then took off after you. Not exactly what I intended, but it gave you a chance to get away, and I was still pretty helpless at that point. What happened?”

I told Guy the rest of the story. “So I guess they’re looking for him out on the lake now. And I don’t much care if they find him or not.”

“You’d better hope they do find him, and he hasn’t escaped to have at you again.” Guy looked hard into my eyes and held me even tighter.

“By the way, do you know why Der showed up at the station when he did? I was too concerned about getting here to you to ask for any details.” I slid onto the bed beside him.

“Yeah, I guess Beth called your house after the storm. When she didn’t get an answer, she drove out there and found us gone so she headed up the lake to the station. When she found your car on the road, she called Der on her cell phone. As luck would have it, he was already on his way to the station.”

“To look for us? Why?”

Der walked into the room. “I was looking for Donald Hall. I sent one of my men to Montreal to check for Henri LeBeau. He and the authorities from Montreal arrived at the LeBeau residence just as Mrs. LeBeau was returning from her vacation. Apparently, on Henri’s orders, she was packing again to leave so the police wouldn’t question her. The man I sent to Montreal noticed Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau’s wedding picture on the mantle. He recognized the man in the picture as Donald Hall and called me immediately. I decided I should have another little talk with Donald. When I didn’t find him home, I decided to try the field station. Guy heard us arrive and yelled loud enough for us to find him in the store room.”

“Any sign of Donald yet?” I said.

“Not yet, but it’s early. If we don’t find him soon, we’ll have to send down divers. But meantime, we’ll put out an APB on him, just to be sure. Oh, and I just called Mrs. LeBeau. She confirms he can’t swim. I think he might be a goner.” He said this in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, but the look in his eyes said he knew I wouldn’t find Donald’s drowning so easy to dismiss.

I began to go over in my mind what I could have done to save Donald short of risking my own life. Pulling him into the boat would have been too risky. I reviewed all the other options in my mind and still couldn’t come up with any approach other than throwing him the oar. Still, I was not too happy with being responsible for someone’s death no matter how much of a rat he was.

I leaned against Guy’s shoulder and began nodding off as the three of us talked. The adrenaline had kept me up for a while, but now that I knew Guy was safe, fatigue began to set in.

“Would you take her home?” asked Guy of Der.

Annie popped her head into the doorway. “I’ll take her home.”

“Or I will.” Beth joined Annie in the doorway.

“I don’t care who takes whom home.” The nurse on duty poked her head into the room. “Settle it outside. This man needs rest.” She shooed all of us out the door.

“I don’t care either,” I said. “I just need some sleep.”

“Looks like you could use some clothes,” said Annie.

I’d let the blanket slide off my shoulders exposing my undies.

“Huh? Oh, damn!” I tugged my make-shift robe up to cover myself.

As it turned out, they all drove me home and a caravan of three cars wound its way around the branches, whole trees, and assorted other objects offered up by the storm on the road. Someone ran a bath for me while someone else gave me brandy. That must have been Der. Annie laid out a nightgown, and, once I pulled it over my head, I snuggled down into my bed and fell immediately into a deep sleep. I slept without a worry until just before dawn.

Chapter 26

Cold, gray light crept into my bedroom at dawn. The stairs creaked with the sound of a footfall, and I called out from my half-waking state,” Guy?” then realized he was in the hospital.

I rolled over i
n bed to face the doorway. A figure stood there.

“Are you awake, Dr. Murphy?” The voice was that of Donald Hall. He looked like a specter from the dead. His face was ashen gray; his clothes clung wetly to his body, and he smelled of damp wet earth and the fishiness of lake water. He moved slowly as if each step depleted his energy, his very life force. He was a ghost out of my worst nightmare.

How I wished Guy was here to take care of me.
No, that’s not right.
I was glad he wasn’t here. I was glad he was safe in the hospital. Maybe this was just a real bad dream, and, if I rolled over and shut my eyes again, Donald would go away. The squish of his wet shoes assured me this was no apparition from the dead. This was Donald. His was alive, and I was awake.

“Get up. We’re going for a ride. I need you with me for a while since it appears that the police are looking for me.”

Donald jerked the covers off me and pulled me roughly out of the bed. The smell of his breath assaulted my nostrils with its sourness as he leaned into my face.

“Put on some clothes.”

I wasn’t about to let Donald watch me while I was dressing, so I headed tow
ard the bathroom after I pulled jeans and a sweatshirt out of my closet. He blocked my way.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“If you want me dressed, then get out of my way. You don’t really think I’d do it in front of you, do you?”

“I do, I do.” He snickered and continued to block the doorway.

“At least turn your back.”

“No way. I’m really going to enjoy this.”

There was no escaping this situation, but maybe I could make the best of it. I moved away from the doorway, putting distance between Donald and myself, pulling my jeans on over my nightgown while somehow managing to tuck it into my pants. Then I slid the sweatshirt over my head.

“There. Happy?”

Donald’s face took on a purple tinge and his jaw clenched. Happy was not the way to describe Donald. He was clearly enraged I managed to clothe myself without the humiliation of undressing in front of him.

In two strides he was across the room, grabbing my arm and twisting it. I tried to contain my cry, but a small squeak of discomfort burst from my lips. That seemed to please and encourage him, for he cackled and grabbed my other arm. He shook me hard enough to make my head flop back and forth. I wondered if it would fly off my neck.

“Don’t ever disobey me again!” He withdrew a knife with a long, wicked-looking blade from his pocket. The blade reminded me of those used to fillet fish. The similarity did nothing to allay my fears Donald would relish the thought of filleting me in just such a manner.

“I like my women to follow orders and to be quiet.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong woman then.” I was courting disaster by my words and attitude.

Donald slapped me across the face, catching my mouth with his blow. I could feel my lip began to swell, and I tasted blood on my tongue. I fought the urge to lift my hand to my mouth, not wanting to give Donald the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt me.
Laura, if you want to get out of this one, you’re going to have to play the compliant female, at least until you figure out how to handle the situation.
And then came a more disturbing thought
. Maybe this was one situation I couldn’t handle.

As I was considering my options, Donald began pulling me down the stairs.

“Make some coffee.” He brandished the knife in my face. “And breakfast, make some breakfast for me. I’m cold and hungry after spending half the night floating in this lake and the other half crawling through the underbrush just to get here to you, sweetie.”

I didn’t take the ‘sweetie’ as any term of endearment.

“I’ll bet you thought you’d never see me again, did you? Well, here I am. No one does in Donald Hall, certainly not a mere woman.”

“What are you doing here? I would have thought you would get out of the area when you had the chance, especially after last night. My throwing you that oar saved your life. Why not make a run for it?”

I said the wrong thing again. Donald’s bravado at having survived his night in the lake turned to explosive rage in an instant.

“Saved my life!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “How much less could you do, throwing an oar at me, you bitch! I should just carve you right now, right here.”

Donald paused and seemed to calm himself with difficulty. “But no, I’ll be generous and let you live for a while. But only because I need you.”

“For what?”

“After breakfast, we’ll take your car and head out on the back roads toward Canada. You’re my insurance policy in case the cops try to stop us. They won’t move in if they know I have you as my hostage.”

“And then, as soon as we cross the border, you’ll let me go, right?”
Not likely, but I could hope.

“Never mind. Get going on that food.”

“Look, why not give yourself up? You killed Talbot in a rage. He made you angry. It was probably something like self-defense. And Stanford, well, he…” I ran out of words at this point. Trying to explain Donald’s actions rationally made no sense.

Donald had nothing to lose by using me and then discarding me as he had his other victims. He seemed to read my thoughts. A slow smile came to his face as he sunk into one of the kitchen chairs.

“I don’t think so. I know why I killed Talbot and Stanford, and it wasn’t self-defense. They were useful for a while, and then they weren’t. Just like it will be for you. You’ll be useful to me for a while, and then you just won’t be at all.” Donald seemed to find great humor in this, and he began to laugh, but abruptly stopped.

“I thought I told you to get busy and make coffee.”

I scurried around the kitchen, closing and opening cupboards, making it appear I was busying myself with food preparation, but taking longer than necessary to get supplies out of the fridge, find the bread and begin to cook the bacon. Again I was stalling for time, knowing the sooner we were on the road, the sooner Donald would decide to kill me. I put the coffee beans in the grinder and turned it on.

Donald put his head in his hands and yelled at me. “My head is killing me already. Don’t you have instant or something?”

I was not about to begin the last journey of my life on instant coffee regardless of what Donald threatened to do to me. I quickly finished grinding the beans and dumped them in the coffee maker.

I was in no hurry to leave my own house. I was his ticket out of here and, until I got him where he wanted to go, I was alive. I held onto that glimmer of hope and decided I would wait to make my move, whatever that might be.

When the food was finally ready, Donald gulped it down. While I was preparing breakfast, I thought I saw him nod off once or twice. He was obviously exhausted from his long, cold night and that might work to my advantage, if my strong coffee didn’t awaken him. I mentally kicked myself for my old habit of brewing coffee like the Turks. I began to run water in the sink.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing now?”

“The dishes. I’m cleaning up.”

He seemed to find that funny for about a split second, and then he jumped from his chair and pushed me out the kitchen door toward the driveway of the house. Suddenly, it hit me. I had no car. It was still where Guy and I abandoned it last night, several miles up the road. It was unlikely Donald would chance going after it, not on a road so close to a main highway and so near to the field station.

“Where’s your car?”

I told him, and he did not look pleased. The only mode of transportation left in the driveway was Guy’s Gold Wing. It survived the storm with few scratches on her beautiful turquoise body. Guy would be so pleased. I entertained a most macabre thought:
he could ride it to my funeral.