The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (81 page)

“You tell me.”

“How is Palmer Reid involved?”

The eyebrows went up again. “If he is, Paul, we
didn't know it. Me and Harold got ou
r
standards.”

Molly touched his arm. “We've been busy back
home. I haven't had a chance to bring you up to date.
Whenever you're ready, you can call Reid's home num
ber and ask him yourself.”

Paul held her eyes. Anton had started to tell him.
Now he knew why she went down to Chevy Chase.

“For now,” Molly said, “why don't you get back to
the hospital. We'll clean up here.” She caught Billy's eye
and, with a motion of her head, asked him to stay with
Paul.

“I don't know. There's not much point
…”

“Paul,” she tugged him toward the door, “get down
to the damned hospital.”

“Open wide now.” Using a napkin, Carla held the
suppository to Lurene Carmody's lips.

“Oh, Carla honey,” she screwed her face in disgust.
“You do know where that's been, don't you? At least
bring over that jug so I can wash it down.”

Carla obliged. Lurene pinched her nose and swal
lowed. She drained a tumbler of white wine and took a
slab of cheese Carla found in the refrigerator. Not so
bad, she thought. But damnationally unhygienic.

“Well,” Carla, poured a glass for herself, Molly de
cl
ining, and sat down cross-legged with Lurene,
“what'll we talk about?”

“How ‘bout last requests? Any chance you'd do me a favor?”

“If I can.”

“I don't guess my body or poor old Harold's will ever
turn up.”

“Fair to say. Unless we send a piece of each down to
your friend, Ortirez.”

“I could have done without hearin' that.”

“Don't worry. Paul would think it's in bad taste.
What's your favor?”

“We have a lawyer in Lubbock, Texas. Name's
Wormwood, if you can believe it. Harold and me had kin
and the lawyer has a will plus instructions on what to do
if we turn up dead or missing. I wonder if you'd give
him a call to that effect.”

“To say I killed you? You've got to be kidding.”

“More like to say he won't be far behind if skimmin'
comes to gougin'. This ain't no trick, Carla. That law
yer's apt to rob my grandchildren blind without some
one around to put the fear of God to him.”

Carla studied her, deciding the request was genuine.
“Wormwood, Lubbock. My pleasure, Lurene.”

“That out of the way, you mind tellin' me how Paul
caught on it was me and Harold? I'd hate to think we
got set up.”

“I don't know. Molly?”

Molly's back was to them. She was pouring coffee.
“You just had some bad luck,” she said.

Carla brought the wine glass back to Lurene's lips.
“If you want to know the truth, I was afraid Paul would
think I did it. I didn't like him getting involved with an
outsider who
…
Lurene?”

Lurene had stiffened, her eyes wide and blinking.
”Ooo-eee,” she sang. “I think I just had what they call a
rush.” She waited for it to settle, then, “I know what you
mean, though. Common interests is what brought me
and Harold together and kept us together. Lord knows in our line of work it's drainin' enough to keep a front
without having to do it in the bedroom as well.”

“And to stay on your toes.”

“For a fact,” Lurene nodded. She was rocking now,
having trouble focusing. “Who else is still runnin' with
Paul? Anyone I'd know?”

“Janet Herzog,
John Waldo, seven or eight more. We
all more or less settled down together.”

“Hard to imagine Janet or J
o
hn bein' housebroke, let
alone settlin' down. But then of course there's Billy.
First time I ever heard him talk, by the way.” Lurene leaned back as she said this. Her eyes were batting.
Carla watched her in silence for several minutes. Her breathing became shallow. Carla reached to pinch her
leg. Lurene did not seem to feel it.

“She's on her way. Convulsions will start soon.”

Molly sipped her coffee.

Carla looked toward the silence. “Anything wrong,
Molly?”

“Not especially.”

Carla turned back to Lurene, thoughtfully. “You
know what's funny? Look at all the fluky little things
that can end up killing you. If I hadn't been stopped
when I followed that girl to Davos, Lurene and Harold
would have spotted me for sure and they would have
aborted. They'd still be alive, Gary wouldn't have been
cut, and Paul and that girl would be up skiing right
now.”

”That girl has a name. It's Susan.”

“So it's Susan. What's bothering you?”

“Whether you like it or not, they could have been
good for each other.”

“For how long? You heard Lurene.”

“It's none of your damned business for how long. Six
months. Six years. I'd take it.”

“The Carmodys had more like forty years. How
does good-for-each-other get any better than that? They
were two professionals who
…
”

“Bullshit, Carla.”

“Now what did I say?”

“They were shits, Carla. Two pieces of shit who
would kill anyone at all for money.”

“We were talking about their relationship. Personal
standards are another subject.”

“You were also saying how professional they were. I
told Lurene she just had some bad luck. I lied, Carla.
They made every possible mistake.”

“Name one, besides not making sure she was dead
and getting out fast.”

Molly ticked them off. “They had no plan; they im
provised. They go to lunch with Susan, they not only let
her pay on a credit card, they left the receipt in her
purse. They let Paul see them and get to know them on
the train, so when he started wondering who Susan
knew well enough to take to lunch over here, theirs
were the first names he thought of. They didn't make
sure she was dead. They let Paul sucker them into try
ing again. Then someone sounding like old Harold
called to
a
sk about her condition before he was even
supposed to know she was there.”

“They weren't so stupid,” Carla said stubbornly. “Paul was just smarter.”

Molly knew better. It was Lesko who was smarter.
Paul had admitted it. He'd been pretty much in a fog
just like anyone normal. She shook her head. “Too many
years, Carla. Too many easy killings. Never able to talk
from the heart to anyone except another killer. Look at
you and Lurene. You're killing her, but she's chatting away with you like this is a pajama party.”

Lurene's leg kicked out, convulsing. Carla reached
to feel her throat. The arterial pulse was erratic. Ail eye
was twitching but her face was otherwise composed.
Content. “I'd settle for that many years,” Carla said,
putting down Lurene's wine glass. “Especially if at the
end I could just go to sleep with a sm
ile
.''

“That's all you want?”

“I could do with getting laid more often.”

“And that's your idea of being happy.”

“Okay, throw in a red Porsche.”

Also an occasional Stanley Gelman, Carla thought, but she knew better than to say it. And maybe an occa
sional all-night fuck with Paul, now that he's worked up
an appetite but, hopefully, lost his little Polish bonbon.
Carla chose not to say that, either.

CHAPTER
26

The doctor with the Swiss-British accent stepped
around Lesko and leaned across Susan. He held a pen-
light over her eyes, moving it from side to side over
each of them, then up and down.

“The nurse says you heard her speak?”

“I think so.” Lesko wrung his hands helplessly. “I
don't know. Maybe I imagined it.”

“What words? Did she say your name?”

“No, it was
…
.” he stopped himself. He was already feeling foolish for jumping up and yelling for the nurse.

“What words, Mr. Lesko?”

“Oh, shit,” he answered. “I thought she said, ‘Oh,
shit.' ”

The doctor smiled, more out of compassion than
amusement. “Possibly only an expulsion of breath. With
a dry mouth it could sound like this.”

“She's not waking up?”

“She is,” he said. “She might have already, then slept again. This is also possible. Waking up will be sporadic,
as in the case of general anesthesia. However, I would
not expect her first words to be an assessment of her
situation.”

“What's with the flashlight? How does she look?”

“Pupillary reaction is quite good. So is corneal reflex.
Response to touch is also encouraging. From this
,
I would say that catastrophic brain damage is unlikely. Beyond that, it is difficult to say.”

“But you're saying there could still be aftereffects. Is
she going to be normal or not?”

“I am hopeful, Mr. Lesko. We must both wait and
see.”

“Oh, shit”

Susan hated it when this happened.

It was like falling asleep with the TV on and not
being able to wake up enough to turn it off.

It was worse.

It was like going to bed after eating Chinese food
loaded with soy sauce and by four in the morning you're so thirsty you could die but you can't wake up enough to
get a glass of water.

Her mouth, her nose, felt as if they were stuffed with
cotton. She tried to remember where she'd been. What
she'd eaten.

So many dreams. Skiing dreams. Sexy dreams.
Tacky, but still sexy. Getting-murdered dreams. By Car
oline and Ray, of all people. Fight dreams. Dreams with
Uncle David. And he's dead. Isn't he? Wait a second.

Yes, he is. That must have been like one of daddy's
dreams. Without the morning bagels.

Daddy?

You're here, aren't you? Little bright lights in my
eyes. I can't see. But I hear you.

Wait a second. Where are we? I was in Switzerland
with Paul. The skiing wasn't a dream. Daddy, what are
you doing here? Did I get hurt?”

”. . . I get hurt?”

“What?” Lesko's head jerked up. “What?”

“Daddy?”

“I'm here, sweetheart.”

She felt his weight against the bed but he was hidden
in a thick gray cloud.

“Daddy, how come. . . ? What happened?”

“It's okay, baby. Talk to me.”

“Daddy, where's Paul?”

The BMW, its rear end still weighted with Harold Carmody's body, began its descent down the mountain road into Davos. Paul had the wheel. He'd barely spo
ken since they started.

“I'll be glad when we're home,” Billy said, staring ahead.
Paul didn't answer. He took a slow, deep breath.

“We get to the hospital,” Billy read his mind, part of
it, “you let me handle her father. He comes at you again,
I'll take him. It's not dignified, you rolling around the floor like that.”

“It's my problem, Billy.” He held up a hand to stay
any objection. “Let's just try to get home without any
more damage.”

Billy thought that he meant the Doc. “You handled
that real good, by the way.”

Another breath. No answer.

“I know it was hard, shooting through your own guy.
But we didn't have all day to stand around there. It's
what me or Molly would have done. Lesko got there
soon enough, he would have done it, too.”

“I guess.”

“You see his face? He would have done it, but he gets
all shook when he sees someone else do it.”

“He didn't just see that, Billy. He was seeing me with
his daughter. He wants it to be over. It is. l can't expose
her to anything like this again.”

Not that she'd want to see him, either, he thought.
Especially after her father tells her a few things.

“Maybe she won't care. Women marry cops. And
soldiers. Even mob guys. Which brings up something I
been meaning to tell you. Know what I'm going to do
when I get home, it's okay with you?”

“What, Billy?”

“I'm going to see if Mrs. DiBiasi maybe wants to get
married.”

The BMW swerved.

“What do you think? You'd be best man.”

”I, um
...
I don't know, Billy. Does she know any
thing about this?”

“She likes me enough, I think.”

“Billy
…
even if you both
…”
Paul groped for
the right words. Nothing came that was not a
cliché
.
“It's an awfully big step. There's a lot more to marriage
than. . . .”

“You mean sex? I know about sex.”

“You do,” Paul answered blankly.

“It's from hookers, mostly. But there was this one up
in Hamburg who taught me what women like.”

Paul was afraid to ask.

   
“She said I was too rough and not considerate. First I figured, what would a German know about considerate?
But then I tried it on this Italian hooker and she liked me so much she fixed me dinner after.”

   
“But not
…
nothing with Mrs. DiBiasi?”

   
“If I did, I don't think I'm supposed to say.”

   
“You're absolutely right.”

“
Anyway, we didn't. Couple of times, though, she
looked at me like th
at
other Italian
did
. And sometimes she
puts her head on my lap when we're watching televi
sion.”

“Billy,” Paul tried not to smile, “you're living under the same roof now. Don't you think it might be a good
idea to keep on the way you are and see how the rela
tionship develops? Molly can give you any advice you
need on
…”

   
“I don't want to talk to Molly about it.”

 
 
“Why not? I thought you were very close.”

    
“Yeah, but she thinks me and Mrs. DiBiasi are cute. I
don't want to be cute.”

Susan's vision still hadn't cleared. She was seeing
everything through a milky film. And she was still drop
ping off to sleep every two minutes.

“Daddy?”

“Right here, sweetheart.”

“You and Paul were fighting, weren't you. It wasn't a
dream.”

“He slipped. I helped him up. They use too much
wax here.”

“You were fighting. We saw you.”

“Yeah, well
...
it was more of an accident. A mis
understanding.”

“Did he win?” she asked drowsily. Then she
abruptly smiled. “Uncle David said it would do you
good to get your ass kicked for a change.”

Lesko's head came up
.
The
we in
we saw you
sud
denly registered. “What are you talking about?”

“He said don't worry. You were just feeling paren
tal.”

“You saw Katz?” His voice dropped to a whisper.
“What was he wearing?”

“What was he
wearing?” Susan raised her head.
“Daddy, it was just a dream.”