The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (25 page)

There was the problem. There was no more policy.
There were no more missions, no more teams. There
was only the implicit objective, actually more of a habit,
of protecting their institutions against hostile interests.
Their primary institution was now the town of
Westport.

Nor would it have occurred to them to seek outside
help, such as by calling the police, any more than it was
in their nature to be passive victims. They understood
the uses of a local police department but also its limita
tions. Their attitude toward the court system was simi
lar. Both were for people who had no other recourse.

Paul had no intention of discouraging decisive action
against people whose own actions were in need of dis
couragement. But individual initiative clearly had to be
controlled. An advisory council was set up. Any act in
violation of any law, certainly any act of violence, had to
be approved by the council in advance. A plan of action
would also have to be submitted for review. Under those guidelines, Russo's and John Waldo's action
against the burglars probably would have been ap
proved. Waldo's action against the neighborhood
speeder would have been approved after a suitable
warning was given and ignored. Carla's action against
the radio-thief would not have been. It was too sponta
neous, it could too easily have been witnessed, and the
devastation of a young male thief by a tiny woman
would have made her the object of unwelcome curios
ity.

Billy McHugh's activities were another matter en
tirely. While Russo, Carla, Waldo and the others spoke
freely within the group of their activities, although al
ways after the fact, and tended to regard them as a form
of volunteer community service, Uncle
Billy regarded
his as intensely private. In nearly all cases, they
stemmed from humiliations suffered by his friends. It
would hardly do to compound a humiliation by discuss
ing it with others. Molly Farrell's first clue to Billy's uses
of his leisure time came when the advisory council had
been organized and each member was asked to explain
its guidelines to the individuals within his or her charge.
Billy listened closely, an expression of concern on his
face that Molly first took to be one of sympathetic un
derstanding. But then he started asking questions.

“You mean,” he nodded, “if we do something that
affects any of us, you got to know about it up front.”

“Anything done by any member of the group can
affect the group, Billy.”

“You mean, if it's something that would get the cops
looking for whoever did something. Like shooting a guy
or blowing up his car, for instance. Not if a guy just had
some bad luck.”

“No, Billy. I mean anything at all.” She was begin
ning to get a bad feeling.

“Yeah, but what if it's something personal, like I did
my friend a favor and my friend doesn't even know I
did, and the cops don't look twice at it and the problem
goes away.”

“I've got to know, Billy. And I've got to tell Paul.”

“Paul's got a lot on his mind, you know. We ought to
be more considerate.”

“What does that mean, Billy?”

“I don't know.” He looked down, fingering the cor
ners of his apron.

“Billy, sweetie, what have you done?”

“In Iran and Rome and like that, I used to do a lot of
things for Paul I didn't worry him about.”

“Are you talking about killings?”

“And like that. Yeah.”

“Billy,” she rubbed her temples as if she felt a mi
graine coming, “have you done anything like that in
Westport?”

“Paul didn't need anything here so far. Except if you
ask me, he wouldn't worry about so much if he'd let me
get that Reid guy off his back.” Billy gestured toward
her head. “You know what's good for that? Two aspirins
and a Bloody Mary with lots of horseradish.”

The answer almost relieved her. But she did a
mental double-take on the qualifier. “Aside from what
Paul needs,” she asked carefully, “have you killed any
one at all here in Westport for any reason?”

Billy shuffled uncomfortably. “I helped out some
people. But they don't know it was me.”

“For Pete's sake, Billy. Who did you help out and
how?”

“The people who come here.” He swept an arm over
the empty bar stools. “They come in here, they look like
they're feeling pretty good. But you'd be surprised the
problems some of them had.”

Had.

Past tense.

“And you solved their problems.” Molly closed her
eyes. She tried to think of any unsolved murders in the
area over the past year or so. But then she remembered
how Billy worked. “How many?” she asked. “How
many are dead?”

“Is Paul going to be sore at me?” His eyes were
moistening. Molly thought of a little boy caught stealing
Twin
ki
es. “I mean, it's not like I left them lying all over
the street.”

“How many, Billy?”

“Eleven, I think.”

At an emergency council meeting, a shattered Molly
Farrell took Paul and the others through a recon
structed list of Billy's victims. She was aided by press clippings photocopied at the Westport Library by Carla
Benedict and then burned in the ashtray at the meet
ing's end. It helped only slightly that all eleven were essentially unattractive people. Two had multiple
drunk-driving convictions, one had two arrests, but no
convictions for sexually abusing a stepchild, two were
wife-
beaters and three were divorce lawyers. It helped
a bit more that none of their deaths had been deemed
suspicious by the authorities.

“It's my fault,” Molly was near tears, “I promised I'd
control him.”

“Let's not waste time assigning blame,” Paul said
quietly. “I know him better than any of you and I never
even suspected. And we've all sat around congratulat
ing ourselves on Billy's miraculous rehabilitation.”

Anton Zivic spoke, “It does not seem useful to pun
ish Billy for doing what he has always done, just because
no one thought to tell him that it was no longer appro
priate. Nor is it necessary to cover for him because he
seems to have done quite a good job of that by himself.”

Paul had to agree. All eleven cases were officially
closed. Nor had
Billy ever mentioned them again to the
individual
friends
involved.

“What is indicated here is probation. He now knows
the rules which, in fairness, we must admit were late in
coming. Also in fairness, we should give him a chance to
live by them.”

“The problem is,” Gary Russo sat back, “for us to
conclude he can't, he has to kill someone else.”

“You have an alternative?” Paul asked.

“Keep him sedated,” Russo shrugged. “It's not a so
lution but it might take the edge off.”

Molly hated that idea. She looked pleadingly at Paul.

“On the other hand,” Russo continued, “we're not running a clinic for the emotionally stunted here. We want to help Billy but we can't let him risk everything
we've built. This is the only home most of you will ever
get a chance of having.”

Paul noticed the use of
you
rather than
us
but didn't
bother to comment. He looked at Carla, who hadn't
spoken. “Do you have any thoughts?”

“I don't like this drug business,” she said firmly. “If
we ever need Billy we want his head clear. Let's not
have Gary making a zombie out of him.”

It was the answer Paul expected from Carla. Al
though she genuinely liked Billy, she tended to think of
people in terms of function.

“Molly,” Paul asked, “are you sure that Billy under
stands the rules now?”

She nodded quickly. “I made him repeat them back
to me. No action of any kind without consulting us. The
only exception is if we're attacked or taken in which
case he has his instructions. Billy is very sorry for any
trouble he's caused and he asks for just one more
chance.”

“He understands that it would have to be his last?”

“He says he's sure he can do it. But if he makes
another mistake, he says he'll take himself out.”

“Okay,” Paul gathered the clippings on the table,
“we give Billy one more chance but we all watch him more closely. We're not going to tranquilize Billy be
cause we're
not going to start manipulating each other.
If you see any problem arising, I want to know about it,
but you go to Molly first because he remains her respon
sibility and we're not going to start going around each
other, either. Anyone disagree?”