Time Out of Mind (94 page)
Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
“
Sorry, Doc. It's as far as I go.” It had taken him this
much of his life, he decided, to learn that the simpler you
look at things, the less you screw them up. Ghosts, he
didn't need. Lesko was already working very hard on forgetting that someone who was dressed like him
could
be
Tilden Beckwith bent down next to Dave Katz and looked
at him back when he was laying on Ella Beckwith’s rug
with his brains scrambled. The scrambled brains would
have been all the explanation Lesko needed if Corbin—if
whoever pulled him out of his car hadn't remembered the wisecrack Katz made about his head – the truck tire thing-, but Lesko had almost convinced himself that he hadn't really heard that, either.
You can't let yourself start with that stuff. He had all of
that he needed back when he was a kid going to Our Lady
of Sorrows and the nuns taught them that they all had
guardian angels watching them all the time and after that
it was a year before most of them could even jerk off in
peace.
Lesko knew what Sturdevant wanted to hear. Gwen Lea
mas had explained it to him. Sort of. Sturdevant had this
theory about genetic memory where everybody's brain taps
into some ancestor's passed-on genes from time to time,
which makes a lot of sense when you think about it, except
she says the theory started falling apart where Corbin was concerned because the way the theory is supposed to work
is you can only inherit memories that happened before you
were conceived. Corbin remembered the Tilden guy's
whole life, Gwen Leamas says, by the time he had it out
with the old lady. Now Sturdevant has to come up with
another theory because he doesn't have the sense to forget
about it. He keeps pushing me about ghosts, Lesko decided,
I'll tell him about guardian angels and let
him
see how it feels not to be able to even take a private shit for the next
year or so. Anyway, we got more important things to think
about.
Listen, Doc''—Lesko gestured up the stairs where Corbin and Gwen had gone to be alone—“with this Beckwith
Enterprises thing, Corbin’ s going to be rich now, right? But
it's going to be a battle.”
I don't know that he wants any part of it. But if he
does, yes, it will surely be a battle.”
“
He'll want it. If not for the money, then to keep any more fake Beckwiths from living off it.”
Sturdevant nodded. “I've already told my lawyer to file
for a freeze on Beckwith assets.”
What lawyer? That other black suit who thinks only
poor people drive cars? I bet he hits you for two hundred
grand a year, five years minimum.”
Sturdevant tried not to wince, but he knew that Lesko was not far wrong. Any lawyer worth the name would get t
he testimony of Ella's brother thrown out on grounds of
incompetence. The evidence Ballanchine might give will
be labeled hearsay where events of forty years ago are con
cerned. From all reports, Ella's mind has snapped com
pletely, so there won't be much help there. Nor will
Jonathan be welcomed by the Beckwith Enterprises major
stockholders and directors, or by Tilden's wastrel son,
Chip, who is at this moment probably lolling on a sailboat
somewhere off Antigua, being served Mount Gay rum and
tonics by some bare-breasted rental. Then there's the
daughter, Barbara, the white sheep of the family by most
accounts, who walked away from it and vanished shortly
after graduating from Cornell University with a degree in
veterinary medicine. She would have to be found, if only
to offset Chip and, unlike him, she might even be persuaded
to do the decent thing. Yes. The law firm would have to
hire a good private detective to—Aha! We now leap ahead
to whatever is behind Mr. Lesko's question.
“
If you're about to suggest that you stay on this case”—
Sturdevant shrugged as if it were a nonissue—”I would be
crazy to let a law firm start over with a new investigator.”
”
I don't want to work for a lawyer at all. You hire me
direct, Doc. It'll save you time and money.”
Sturdevant had to agree. “But to do what, exactly?”
“
Dancer says there was a will, and some other legal
papers showing that the Corbins are the real heirs. I don't
think they found all the copies. He says when those guys
went out and burned down Charlotte Corbin's house, all they found was a third, maybe a fourth carbon. He says
that's why they went out a few months later and burglarized
Lucy Stone Turtle's house and ended up killing her, too.
He thinks she told them to buzz off before they strangled her, which means they came up empty. It's also why they didn't push Corbin in front of a train as soon as they knew
who he was. They wanted to know if he had any idea who
he was and if maybe he had those papers.”
“
Where would you begin looking?”
“
Lots of places.” He'd start with Dancer one more time,
he'd already decided. Dancer did say he wanted to see him,
and there was always the chance that Dancer had found
those papers and stashed them. But he didn't think so. If Dancer had that kind of leverage he'd have been living like a king years ago. Then he'd head back out to Chicago and track down Lucy Turtle's grandchildren and the family of
Whitney Corbin's widow and ask them to go through their
attics in return for an eventual piece of the action. But first he thought he'd hang around Greenwich for a while. Especially around this house. Charlotte had come back here one more time after Tilden died. Corbin was as sure about
that as if he'd been here to see it. She came back to see
her best friend, Laura Hemmings. And Corbin himself had
come here. He was pulled here. Like he had no choice.
Maybe we'll have to tear up a few floorboards before we're
through.
Listen,” Lesko said to Sturdevant, ”I also got my old
age to think about, and you're going to want someone who can keep an eye on things at Beckwith Enterprises. Tom
Burke is now a vacancy. I want to be the new chief of
Security at whatever they were paying him plus a bonus if
I find the papers.”
A bonus, certainly,” Sturdevant granted. “But I have
no influence over whom that company hires.”
“
You will. Just have your lawyer file that freeze and then
put me in a room alone with the board of directors. Some
of them will resign anyway as soon as they read today's
papers. The rest will be falling all over themselves trying
to make their hands look clean.”
lation wing at Greenwich Hospital. A don't-fuck-with-me expression, plus the bandage on his scalp and a flash of his gold shield got him past the guard with no questions asked.
When he entered Lawrence Ballanchine's room, Ballan
chine had to turn his head to see him. The whole left side
of his face was packed with a heavy compress. Another
wrapping of gauze held his jaw in place until surgery could
be scheduled. For all his pain, Dancer seemed relieved that
Lesko had come back.
“
Shut the door,” he slurred by way of greeting.
“
You got two minutes.” Lesko left it open.
“
We can help each other, Lesko.” He spoke with diffi
culty through thickened lips. ”I have something you want.
And you're going to help me walk away from this.”
“
Fat chance.” Lesko shook his head. People like Dancer never failed to amaze him. Suck up to everyone who has
money, treat everyone else like shit. Even here, like this.
Dancer ignored his response.
“
The conspiracy and attempted-murder charges will
never go to trial without your testimony. Agree to withdraw
it, and I'll give you something you can sell for a lot of money.”
“
You got the will and those other papers?”
“
Something better.”
Lesko looked at his watch. “Now it's a minute. Then
I'm out of here and your tight little ass is on its way to a Sing Sing shower party.”
Dancer closed his one eye. “Must you be such a pig,
Mr. Lesko?”
“
What do you want from me? A bedside manner? I get
snippy with people who stuff me in trunks.”
“
They were married, Lesko.”
Dancer waited for a reaction. He seemed troubled that there was none.
“
Did you hear what I said? Tilden Beckwith and Char
lotte Corbin were married. I know when and I know
where.”
That's not such big news,” Lesko lied. “It was just
before they killed him, right?” He watched Dancer's face
for the beginnings of a nod and he saw it. It was true. He'd
felt right along that there had to be a better reason for killing the Corbins. A will, they could have fought. A will and
a legal wife was something else.
“
It was quite some time before.” Now Dancer lied. But
it was too late. He hadn't stopped the nod in time. “I'll
give you the place and date after you've had a satisfactory
meeting with my lawyer.”
“
No deal, Twinkletoes. See you around.” Lesko turned
toward the door. He wanted to get to the hallway so he
could let the excitement show on his face.
“
You couldn't have known this.” Dancer's voice was
desperate.
“
Not for sure.” Lesko couldn't resist. “But then you
gave it to me when you said you had something better than
a will. You even gave me
when
before you tried to take it back. The
where
part figures to be someplace around Chi
cago.”
“
Well, it isn't.”
“
Bullshit.” Lesko turned again.
You don't even know where to start looking. I know
where the records are.”
That's what you're offering? You'll save me a little
legwork if I let you walk without paying the tab?”
“
It could take you months. You might never find it.”
”
I get paid by the day, pal.”
Lesko stepped through the door.
“
Jonathan?” She said his name softly.
the way she'd left him when she went to take her hot soak
ing bath in the big tub that had feet like claws. Gwen gath
ered the loose folds of Jonathan's terry robe and eased
herself down onto the bed, her back against two pillows. -
She wished she still smoked cigarettes. This was one of
those perfect times for a cigarette.
She reached to touch the white Victorian dress, which
she'd draped over a high-backed bedside chair. It was dry.
Soiled at the hem, but dry. Not ruined. She let her eyes
drift lazily around the room, taking it in, feeling it. She began to understand how it was possible for Jonathan to
drift back into another time. It had almost happened to her
as she sat in the tub watching the steam rise. It was almost
happening now.
Laura Hemmings had used that tub. And she'd slept in
this room. Perhaps in this very bed, which had come with
the house because it was too heavy to move. And Margaret
had surely been up here. Visiting. Chatting. Looking at a new dress Laura bought. Maybe they cried together here.
