Resurrection Dreams (31 page)

Lurching forward, he reached through the window and clutched Vicki’s shoulder. “It was Patricia,” he blurted. “She did it, but I made her do it. Hypnosis, that’s how. Okay? Okay?”

She reached across her body and pressed Melvin’s hand down on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said. “I’ll call. Ace is going away, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

She released his hand. She slowly backed up the car, and he felt her shoulder slide away.

She pressed herself against Jack. He embraced her. The muscles of his chest and arms were big and hard. Wrapped by him, Vicki felt small, protected, safe. She kissed him. She opened her mouth and tasted Jack’s lips and tongue.

It was like standing in the first rays of sunlight after a night of awful darkness and numbing cold.

Too soon, he eased away from her and shut the door. “That was well worth the wait,” he said. He reached out and lightly stroked her cheek. “You look wonderful. And a little rattled.”

“It wasn’t much fun.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coffee?”

He nodded. He took her hand, and led her across the foyer. They entered a living room that seemed huge and plush compared to Ace’s. The thick carpet felt soft under her shoes. “This is very nice,” she said.

“Did you have any trouble finding your way?”

“Not much,” she said. In fact, she had been so distracted and dazed by the encounter with Melvin that she’d driven past the street and didn’t even notice her mistake until she found herself a block from Ace’s house.

She bashed her forearm against a dining room chair.

“Ouch!” Jack said. “You all right?”

Grimacing, she let go of his hand and rubbed her arm. “Like you said, I’m rattled. And a little…tipsy. I had a drink before he got there. I don’t think I could’ve faced him sober. Then, I wanted to loosen him up so we both kept drinking.”

“And who was this mystery date?”

“Melvin Dobbs.”

“You’re kidding.” He led her into the kitchen, past a breakfast table, and pulled out one of the stools at the serving counter. While he held her steady, she climbed onto the stool. She leaned over the counter and braced herself on her elbows. “Crazy Melvin?” he asked. “That’s who you had dinner with? The guy who’s smitten with you? The guy who’s missing a screw?”

“That’s him.”

Jack frowned at her from the other side of the counter. “Why?”

“I wanted him to admit killing Pollock.”

“And did he?”

“He did.”

Jack’s eyes widened.

“That missing nurse? Patricia? He said he hypnotized her and made her do it.”

“Good God.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe him?”

Vicki nodded.

“Well.” Jack rubbed his jaw. He turned away and walked over the the coffee maker at the far end of the kitchen. “No wonder you wouldn’t tell me what you were up to.”

“I just didn’t want you to worry. Or try to talk me out of it.”

“I would’ve done both,” he said. He scooped ground coffee into the filter and looked around at her. “I knew you had guts, lady, but…”

“But you didn’t realize I’m crazy?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re crazy. Hey, you might slug me again. But why did you do it?”

“He has to be put away.”

Jack slid the filter into place, poured water into the top of the machine, flicked a switch that turned on a red light, and came back to her. He stood at the other side of the counter. “Why do you suppose Dobbs made this confession to you?”

“He wants me to…approve of him. I let him believe he was doing me a big favor by killing Pollock. I mean, Pollock had insulted me in front of him. I as much as told him I thought it was great that he’d…stood up for my honor. By nailing the guy.”

“So he told you what he knew you wanted to hear. Whether or not he actually did the deed.”

She stared up at Jack. “Hey, whose side are you on, here?”

“Who do you think?”

“You’re making it sound like the whole things was a waste of time. God, I damn near seduced him.”

“Under which circumstances, any reasonable man—not to mention social outcast with questionable emotional stability who has been fantasizing about having you as his lover—would’ve admitted almost anything.”

“Come on, don’t say that. It was awful. He…he loves me, Jack. And I encouraged it. I felt like the biggest liar of all time. I felt like such a shit, and you’re telling me it means nothing that he confessed?”

“No, I’m not telling you that. His confession would be admissible in court.”

“So it’s real evidence?”

“It is. But very weak. Any decent attorney would have no trouble at all convincing a jury that it was given under a form of coercion. You were dangling yourself in front of him like bait. Confess, and I’m all yours.”

Vicki felt herself blushing. “I didn’t say that.”

“From what you’ve told me, the implication must’ve been pretty clear to him.”

“So is it evidence, or isn’t it?”

“It’s enough to set an investigation into motion. It’s probable cause for a search warrant.”

“Even to Raines?”

“He’d be a fool not to act on it.” Jack smiled. “Of course, he is a fool. But Bob Dennison isn’t.”

“Who’s he?”

“The District Attorney. And also my fishing buddy.”

Vicki felt a grin stretch her face. “Well, it sure pays to be well-connected.”

“That it does. One way or another, I’m sure we can arrange it so that Dobbs will be visited by the authorities first thing in the morning.”

“Then what?”

“We hope they find something tangible.”

She nodded. “Like Patricia.”

“Or her body. In fact, with what they apparently have on that woman, any physical evidence of her presence in the house should be sufficient grounds for hauling Dobbs in. And you never know what they might find. Pollock’s service revolver. His badge. Even some of his blood might’ve gotten into the house. If Dobbs was involved, there’s a very good chance they’ll find something to tie him in.”

“Suppose they don’t?”

“Then you’re in trouble. Dobbs will know you’re the one who fingered him, and he might not love you anymore.”

“There’s a mixed blessing.”

“You’ve gone this far. I don’t suppose you’d let a little matter like that stop you.”

“I don’t suppose I would.”

“We’ll see to it that he doesn’t get a chance to…visit his displeasure on you.”

“Thanks.”

Jack looked over his shoulder. “Coffee’s ready. Do you take cream or sugar?”

Melvin wished he could read the fucker’s lips.

He had a very good view of Vicki’s back. She had been sitting on the stool since he found the kitchen window. For a while, he hadn’t seen anyone else. Then the man had come up to the other side of the counter and started talking to her. The angle was good, so Melvin could see him beyond Vicki’s shoulder.

A big guy. He looked like a goddamn football player. He wore a white knit shirt that showed off his muscles.

Melvin didn’t know who he was. He for sure wasn’t the pregnant lady, though.

Keeping a safe distance back, Melvin had followed Vicki when she left the restaurant’s parking lot. He wished she would drive faster. He ached for her to reach Ace’s house. Though he couldn’t be with her, at least he could watch her—find a window and spy on her. That’d be something. He was sure she’d change clothes as soon as she got there. He might get to see her slip out of that shiny blouse, step out of that long white skirt, maybe even take off the rest.

If she didn’t take off her clothes, it would still be great to watch her. He knew he could look at her for hours, and every moment would be exciting.

But Vicki didn’t drive to Ace’s house, the way she’d said she would.

She lied to me, Melvin thought.

Did she lie about everything?

His mind reeled with confusion and loss.

Then, her car stopped at a curb. Melvin slowed down. He drove by just in time to see her reach the front door of a big two-story house.

I know! he told himself.

He felt like a fool for doubting her.

It was nothing. Instead of going straight to Ace’s house, Vicki had decided to pay a visit to the pregnant gal. Just look in on her, check on her progress.

She’ll be there for a few minutes, then she’ll head on home.

It’s all right, after all.

Melvin parked near the end of the block. He thought he might wait in his car, but he quickly grew restless.

What if I’m wrong? he wondered. What if she’s in there with a guy?

No, not Vicki. She wouldn’t. No.

But Melvin couldn’t get the idea out of his head. He wanted to believe in her, to trust her. But he had to know.

He walked back to the house.

Most of the windows had curtains that were shut, but not the kitchen. The curtains there were wide open.

First, he saw only Vicki. Then the guy stepped up to the counter.

Melvin tried to convince himself that the guy was the husband of Vicki’s patient. She could be asking about the wife’s condition. Any contractions yet?

Bullshit.

Who is he? What’re they talking about?

It was like watching a drive-in movie without any sound. He could see Vicki and the guy perfectly. But the window was shut and an air conditioning unit hummed loudly nearby, so he couldn’t hear a damn thing.

If only he could read the fucker’s lips.

Vicki turned sideways and slid off the stool. She stepped around the end of the counter. The guy was saying something. And watching her.

Melvin couldn’t read his lips.

But he could read his eyes.

“How long have you lived here?” Vicki asked.

“What?” Jack called. “You’ve got to speak up.”

“Wise guy.”

Jack smiled at her from the couch. It looked soft and comfortable, but Vicki had settled into an easy chair a short distance from the corner where he was sitting. “What’d I do wrong, this time?” he asked.

“You bought a white couch and you gave me black coffee. I don’t think the two would go well together.” She raised the cup to her lips. Steam drifted up, hot against her face. She took a sip of the coffee, and sighed.

“Take a chance,” Jack said.

“I’m fine here.”

“But out of reach.”

“We can admire each other from afar.”

“Should I confess to something?” he asked. “Would that get you over here?”

The words made her stomach tighten. “Don’t rub it in, okay? I don’t like what I did. It was a rotten trick.”

“Not nearly as rotten as committing murder. If your maneuvers end up getting Dobbs put away, you’ve done society a considerable service. You’ll have taken a killer off the streets. That counts for a lot.”

“I suppose.”

“No supposing about it. It’s certainly possible that Pollock wasn’t his first victim. And might not be his last, if he isn’t stopped.”

“Possible, I guess.”

“That nurse, for instance. He told you that he hypnotized her?”

Vicki nodded, and took another drink of coffee.

“Pretty far out. But we’re going on the assumption that he was telling the truth, right? So, if he put her into some kind of trance instead of just asking her politely to knock the guy off, that means she wasn’t acting on her own volition. She was compelled to kill Pollock. So what happens to her afterward? Is Dobbs going to let her go on her merry way?”

“He could get her to forget everything that happened while she was under hypnosis,” Vicki said. She frowned into her coffee. A thought, a new idea, a realization heavy with portent was stirring somewhere deep in her mind. She concentrated, trying to force it to the surface. But Jack spoke again, distracting her.

“The nurse might forget it, but the cops know she was involved and they’re looking for her. If they got their hands on her, they might make her remember.”

“If they hypnotized her again,” Vicki said, “they might be able to get the truth.” What was that thought? Where’d it go?

“And if Dobbs knows enough on the subject to persuade someone to commit murder—I imagine that takes quite an expert—then he’d have to realize she’s a threat to him. As long as she’s alive.”

“Yeah.” Vicki searched her mind. It was like swimming under murky water, hunting a message hidden deep in the weeds along the bottom.

And having to come up for air when Jack spoke.

“It’s my guess,” he said, “that Dobbs has already killed the nurse. Eliminated the only person—except for you—who can tie him in.”

Vicki held up her hand.

“What?”

She shook her head and gazed into the coffee. She submerged herself again, thought of herself as taking a deep breath and plunging into the darkness. Going deeper. Her mind was a river and the lost thought was down there someplace. Come on, where are you?

Suddenly, Charlie Gaines was on her back, clinging to her, groping her, driving her down. The horrors of last night rushed in. She could feel him, feel the ache in her lungs…

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

His words wrenched her to the surface. The coffee was shivering, the cup tinkling against the saucer. She rose carefully out of the chair, placed the cup and saucer on the table, then stepped around the table and sat down on the couch close to Jack.

He slipped an arm around her. She leaned against his side.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Vicki. But the fact remains that you’ve put yourself at considerable risk by…”

“It isn’t that,” she said. “I had…I flashed back to last night. Charlie. In the river.”

His hand gently covered her wounded shoulder. “I’m sorry. You know, with all this Dobbs business, I’d almost forgotten about Charlie. That must’ve been so awful for you.”

Looking up at Jack, she managed a smile. “Hey, it wasn’t all bad. Afterward was pretty nice.”

“Till you conked out on me.”

“I hope you minded your manners.”

“It wasn’t easy, but…”

The lost thought burst to the surface of her mind, full and clear. As if it had waited for her to stop searching, then popped up to surprise her. “My God,” she muttered, stunned by what she suddenly knew. Knew.

“Honest, I was a perfect gentleman.”

“Hypnosis. That’s how…” She squeezed Jack’s leg. “Melvin killed Charlie.”