Austin Howard’s birthday was a month away, but his wife still hadn’t decided on his gift. He would be thirty-seven. Not exactly a milestone, but Delores wanted the gift to be special.
“It’s the same old problem,” she told her sister Libby on the phone. “He’s the Man Who Has Everything.”
Libby frowned. She was anxious to get to work. Colonial Trust was expecting bank examiners, and they were notoriously punctual. What if they arrived and the manager wasn’t there?
“Get him a gizmo,” she said. “How about a handheld computer? Or a laptop?”
“A laptop! Libby, you’re a genius! Uh-oh, here’s the man himself.” She hung up as Austin came down the stairs, trying to button his jacket and juggle an attaché case at the same time. Paul Manners, his lawyer and closest friend, was already in the driveway. A car horn beeped twice.
Despite his haste, Austin stopped and caught his breath at the sight of his wife. She had grown more beautiful in the three years of their marriage.
“You’re sure about no food?” she said. “Not even a yogurt?”
“It’s a breakfast meeting,” Austin said.
“Morning, Mr. Howard.” It was Hattie, their maid, all dressed up in her new seal coat.
“Where you off to, Hattie?”
It’s Thursday, Mr. Howard. My sister is coming in from White Plains. We got a lot of chit-chatting to do.”
Outside, the horn beeped again. “Hattie, do me a favor. Tell Mr. Manners to keep his hands off that horn.”
Hattie turned to his wife and said: “Mrs. Howard, I put the laundry that didn’t get finished on top of the ironing board. And that food delivery’s ten o’clock.”
Hattie opened the door and Paul Manners was on the doorstep, an expression of disapproval on his lined but handsome face. “Now I know why Austin’s late every morning. He can’t tear himself away from you.”
“You got that right,” Austin grinned.
Five minutes later, heading for the city with his friend at the wheel, Austin said, “How much luck can one guy have, Paul?”
“Don’t ask me. Not much luck in my comer.”
Paul and his wife were estranged. He worked six days a week and suffered from indigestion.
“I get scared sometimes,” Austin said. “Too many good things in my life, the gods get jealous.”
Back home, Delores was stretched out on the sofa flipping through a magazine when the back doorbell rang. Willy Lauber, the delivery boy, was outside, the morning sun burnishing his blond hair. He was a handsome kid, but there was a vacancy in his sea-blue eyes.
“Hi, Mrs. Howard.” He hauled in the four boxes of food she had ordered for their dinner party.
“Hattie said you were going to deliver around ten. It’s not even nine.”
Willy stared at the kitchen tiles. “I thought I’d come early because of...well, you know.” She looked at him blankly. He said: “You want me to put the milk and stuff away for you?”
“No, just leave them on the table.”
Still not meeting her eyes, Willy said: “It was really something, driving over here...knowing I was going to see you.”
Delores wasn’t sure she heard him right.
“I kept thinking how it was going to be. When I rang the bell and you saw me. I wondered if you’d act just like always, or you’d be...different.”
He put his hand on her arm.
“Willy, don’t do that.”
“Nobody’s home, right? You said you’d be alone.” His grip tightened, and he pulled her toward him. He was boyishly slim, but his hands were strong.
“Stop this, Willy,” she said. “Let me go.”
“We don’t have much time.” Now he was trying to kiss her, and Delores felt the first tremor of panic.
“What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?”
“Don’t tease, Mrs. Howard, they’ll expect me back at the store... Where do you want to? You want to go upstairs, to your bedroom?”
He kissed her fiercely. She struck his face, hard, and Willy looked surprised.
“Let go of me! I’ll scream—I’ll scream loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood! Someone will call the police!”
In alarm, Willy clamped a hand over her mouth. “You stop playing games, Mrs. Howard! You stop that now!”
But the panic had become hysteria. She hit his cheek with her fist. He seized both arms and yanked them behind her back, pushing her against the table. She saw the kitchen knife out of the comer of her eye and snatched it up.
Willy saw it at the same moment, and tried to wrest it from her. In the struggle, the point of the blade entered her lower back, and she shrieked in terror.
Willy looked startled. He could think of only one solution. He used the knife again, and then there was a blessed silence.
The police were still there when Austin arrived home. Paul had dropped him off at the top of the hill; Austin enjoyed the quarter-mile walk to his front door.
But where was Delores? She always spotted him trudging down the dirt road, stood in the doorway with a mocking smile at his “exercise” routine. But the door was closed, and the windows of the house brightly lit, brighter than usual. And then an even more puzzling fact: Libby was there. She ran out to greet him. She wanted to talk to him before the police did.
They didn’t let Austin see her body. They didn’t ask him any questions about his whereabouts.
“You see, we know what happened,” a burly officer said gently. “This kid could have drawn us a picture, the way he left things. Food all over the place. Didn’t go back to the grocery, just took off.”
“Who? Who?” Austin said hoarsely.
“Kid named Willy Lauber,” the man said. “Delivery boy. He told a friend of his what he did. Says it wasn’t his fault.”
Libby, her face streaked with tears, stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth.
A uniformed cop came in and said something in a low voice to the plainclothes officer. Austin’s hearing had suddenly become acute. He heard every word. They had found Willy Lauber. He was in the police vehicle outside in the driveway.
Austin said: “I’ve got to get some air.”
He was outside before Libby realized what he was doing. She saw him approach the prowl car, saw him fling open the door and drag out a startled, terrified boy with golden hair.
It was two months before Austin saw Willy again. The bruise on his neck—the remnant of Austin’s thwarted attempt to strangle him—hadn’t quite faded.
Willy wore a suit this time. His hair was carefully brushed. Beside him, David Lenrow, his defense attorney, looked scruffy and nervous. Lenrow hadn’t seen the inside of a courtroom in years. He was the bottom of the barrel, but who else would want the hopeless task of defending Willy Lauber?
Claymore, the prosecuting attorney, called only one witness, the police officer who had arrested Willy. His name was Briggs.
“I arrested him at his house, or rather his uncle’s house. He was sleeping.”
“Sleeping. In the middle of the day.”
“I had to shake him awake. There was blood all over his clothes. Then he apologized for what he did.”
“What do you mean, ‘apologized’?”
“He said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’”
“Did you ask him what ‘that’ was?”
“Yes, sir, he admitted killing Mrs. Howard.”
David Lenrow had a witness, too.
“We would like to call William Lauber to the stand.” The buzz was louder than a beehive. It had been assumed that the defendant would not testify.
“Why?” Austin whispered.
Paul shrugged. “Probably to show that he’s dimwitted. Get the jury ready for an insanity plea, or incompetence.”
Willy took the oath. He smiled slightly when he put his hand on the Bible. He seemed to enjoy the spotlight. Paul’s theory was that he saw the trial as a movie or TV show. Now he was playing a starring role, and loving it.
Lenrow asked his name, his age, his occupation. Willy gave him straightforward answers. Then Lenrow asked: “How well did you know Mrs. Howard, Willy?”
“I went to her place about once a week.”
“Did you like Mrs. Howard?”
“Sure, I liked her. She was pretty, but not much of a tipper.”
“Did she like you, too, Willy?”
Claymore snapped out an objection, and the Judge denied it.
“Lots of women do,” Willy said. “Some even want to get friendly with me. But most of them, well, they’re not much to look at.”
“If you liked Mrs. Howard, why did you hurt her?”
“It was just something that happened! She picked up this knife, and I got scared, and I tried to take it away from her. And then she got stabbed in the back, and I stabbed her again, this time in front. I guess I was afraid she would tell somebody...”
“But you still contend that it wasn’t your fault?”
“No! It was her fault!”
“How could it have been her fault, Willy?”
“Because she acted the way she did,” Willy Lauber said. “Like she didn’t want me to be friendly, even though she was the one who asked me there.” He gave the judge a look of triumph. That’s the truth. Judge. She asked me to come there, to be friendly with her!”
The jury deliberated for less than two hours.
There was barely a rustle in the courtroom when the foreman, a used car dealer named Houseman, read the Guilty verdict. No one had expected to hear anything else. But the foreman remained standing, hesitant.
“Your Honor, if you don’t mind, the jury would like to make a recommendation.”
The judge frowned. “Are you talking about the sentencing? That’s a separate aspect of the trial. But go ahead, say what you have to say.”
The foreman cleared his throat. “Well, sir, we’re all sure the defendant committed this crime. But it seemed to us that he didn’t really know what he was doing.”
Austin would have stood up and said something, but Libby’s hand fell on his arm.
“What we mean is, Mr. Lauber doesn’t seem too smart to us, that his intelligence is pretty low, and maybe that ought to be taken into consideration when...you know.”
The judge said, “We appreciate your thoughts, Mr. Houseman, but they’re inappropriate at this time. It’s the responsibility of the bench to make that judgment. Sentence will be passed at ten a.m. tomorrow.”
He rapped his gavel once, stood up, and there was an “all rise” from the bailiff. The day was over.
There was silence in the car as Paul Manners drove Austin and Libby back home. Austin stared out the window, seeing nothing beyond it, his thoughts almost audible.
Libby said: “Please don’t worry, Austin. I’m sure it’s going to be all right.”
“Is it? You heard what the foreman said. They’re already looking for excuses for that murdering boy! Maybe they even believed what he said, that Delores wanted him to—” He stopped, choking on the words.
Paul said: “Nobody believed him, Austin. Put that thought out of your head.”
Libby stroked his hand. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what they do to Willy now. If they don’t execute him, they’ll put him away for life.
“It’s not good enough! Delores is dead. Willy has to die, too. It has to come out even.”
At ten the next morning, the judge asked Willy to rise. He stood up, only mildly concerned about what the judge had to say.
“William Lauber, a jury of your peers has found you guilty of the crime of murder in the first degree. It’s now my duty to pass sentence upon you as required by the laws of this state. Yesterday, the court heard a heartfelt plea from the jurors to consider leniency in your case because of diminished capacity...”
In the silence of the room, they could hear Austin’s sharp intake of breath.
“However,” the judge continued, “the crime you committed was so heinous, so brutal, so unforgivable, I cannot in all conscience allow it to receive anything but the most serious punishment. For this reason, I sentence you to be put to death by lethal injection, this sentence to be carried out on October 31st of this year...”
The first thing Austin did when he arrived home was find a wall calendar. Then he marked off the date.
October 31st.
Austin Howard didn’t take much with him when he left the stone house on Willow Drive for a single room at the Hotel Holland. Two changes of clothing, a few toilet articles, and the calendar.
On the evening of the 7th, he was in a Scotch-induced sleep when the telephone rang. He had a visitor. “Who?” he said thickly. But the doorbell was already ringing.
It was Libby. He admitted her reluctantly, and she said:
“Well, well. Will the real Austin Howard stand up and shave?”
“How did you find me here?”
“If you must know, Paul told me... God, you look awful! You know how awful you look?”
“Paul promised me—”
“You look as if you belong in this room! That’s how awful!” She threw her purse on the sofa and sat down.
“What did you expect me to do?” Austin said. Stay in that house? Wake up every night thinking Delores was still lying beside me...”
“You could have found a better room than this!”
“This isn’t a hotel room, Libby. It’s a waiting room.”
He looked at the wall calendar, and Libby followed his gaze.
“Oh, Austin,” she said sadly. “You poor dope. Is that what your whole life has come down to? Staring at the calendar and waiting for them to inject that dim-witted boy…”
Someone was knocking at the door.
“It’s Paul,” Libby said. “He brought me here. But I asked if I could see you alone first.”
Libby admitted him. From the moment he saw his pained face, Austin knew something was wrong.
“I couldn’t tell him,” Libby said. “I just couldn’t, Paul.”
The lawyer looked at the calendar on the wall. “Austin, there isn’t going to be any 31st.”
“What are you talking about? There’s always a 31st!”
“I mean there isn’t going to be any execution. David Lenrow’s appeal was granted by the appellate court. They had Willy Lauber examined by psychiatrists. They agreed about ‘diminished capacity.’”
Libby clutched Austin’s arm.
“They’ve reduced Willy’s sentence to life imprisonment. He’s already been removed to the Highland State Penitentiary.”
The silence that fell on the room seemed endless. Austin, deadly calm, turned to Libby.
“Would you mind leaving us alone?”
She hesitated, but then picked up her purse and went out.
“I know this is hurting you, Austin. But life behind bars is a terrible punishment, too. For a boy like Willy, maybe worse than death.”
“He’ll be a model prisoner. He’ll be up for parole, and he’ll smile for the Board, and they’ll see that he’s just a nice all-American boy, and deserves another chance...”
Austin put down the glass.
“He’s not going to get another chance. I’ll make sure he doesn’t. You’ll have to help me make sure.”
“How can I do that?”
“I’m going to kill him, Paul. I have to kill that animal or stop living myself. And whether you help me or not, that’s what I’ll do.”
“The man’s in prison! You can’t get near him!”
“It’ll probably cost money, but that doesn’t matter. I’ve got a profitable business, don’t I? I’ll spend all the money I have to, as long as I can reach an arm into that penitentiary...”
“That’s crazy, Austin! You wouldn’t know how where to begin such a thing. You haven’t had any contact with—people like that!”
“But you have, haven’t you? You were in criminal practice, once. You know people. You could help me if you wanted to.”
“But I don’t want to!” Paul said. “It can’t be done. And even if it could, I won’t stand by and watch you murder someone—even at long distance!”
“Just tell me one thing.” Austin went to the window. The city view was bleak, a panorama of rooftops. “Tell me whose life you want to save, Paul. Willy Lauber’s…or mine.”
The Steamer Bar was in a dreary neighborhood two blocks from the waterfront. It was early in the day. The bartender displayed no curiosity when Austin asked for the “billiard room.”
The small Brunswick pool table looked like it hadn’t seen any action in years. There was another table in the room, and Paul was sitting at it with a heavyset man who had shaved carelessly that morning.
“Austin, like you to meet Joe Lotts.”
The stranger smiled pleasantly.
“Let’s just get down to business,” Paul said briskly. “Austin, Mr. Lotts was a client of mine, about four years ago. Mr. Lotts is in the transportation business.”
“Long-distance hauling,” Lotts said.
“Mr. Lotts has a brother, Leonard.”
“A good guy,” Lotts said.
“Unfortunately, the brothers got into a little trouble, involving a hijacking accusation. I got Joe off, but Leonard wasn’t that lucky. He’s serving a ten-year sentence.” He paused. “At Highland State Penitentiary.”
“Leonard’s a good guy,” Lotts repeated. “He’s made a lot of friends in the joint. In fact, he’s a trusty.”
“It’s true. He’s a trusted inmate, and even though he’s made some mistakes in his life, he doesn’t like cold-blooded killers, especially when they kill women... He could easily learn to hate Willy Lauber as much as you do.”
Joe Lotts looked worried. “We ain’t talking about ‘favors,’ you know?”
“We’ve agreed on a price,” Paul said. “Twenty thousand dollars, with a bonus of five more if the...assignment is completed before the end of the month. Is that all right with you, Austin?”
“I want it in plain English.” Austin put his palms flat on the table. “Will your brother kill Willy Lauber?”
Lotts looked surprised. “That’s what we’re talking about, right? Yeah, Leonard’ll whack him. That’s what you want, right?”
“It’s what I want.”
“Leonard will handle it. Leonard’s a good guy.”
Paul walked Austin back to the hotel. At the entrance, he said something about returning to his office. Austin didn’t stop him. He went into the lobby, and saw Libby sitting in a plush chair. He looked at her guiltily, as if she could read his mind and know what he was planning to do to Delores’s killer.
“I have to talk to you,” she said. “About money.”
That’s funny,” Austin answered. “I was going to call you about the same subject. Do you know what I have in my checking account?”
“Don’t you ever look at your bank statements?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to need some cash soon.”
Upstairs, in his room, Libby said: “It’s not your personal checking account I’m concerned about. It’s your business account.”
“Paul has been taking care of that since—” He stopped. “Paul said he would handle the business finances until I was feeling better. I expect that to be very soon.”
Unconsciously, he looked at the wall calendar.
Libby was glad not to meet his eyes. She said: “There are payments I can’t account for, Austin. Two payments that don’t have any matching expenses, at least not in writing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Two company checks were drawn a week apart. Both were for cash. Forty thousand and sixty thousand, respectively. Did you authorize their withdrawal?”
“No. I haven’t thought about money for months.”
“They were endorsed by Paul. The money went into his pocket, Austin. I know he’s your best friend, I know how much you think of him. But I can’t help suspecting that Paul Manners is stealing from you.”
Austin was in no mood to be the victim of another crime. When he arrived at the attorney’s office, he dropped the canceled checks on his desk, and asked for an explanation. He felt a perverse satisfaction in seeing Paul pale underneath his tan.
“Did you think I stole this money from you, Austin?”
“If you did, I’d understand why. That ex-wife of yours is trying to bleed you to death, isn’t she?”
“It’s true. Fleur won’t be satisfied until I’m sleeping in a doorway someplace.” He sighed deeply. “All right. I’ll tell you the truth, as much as I can afford to tell you...I took the money, Austin. I used it on your behalf.”
“On my behalf?” Austin bristled.
“I had to buy something. From David Lenrow. From the prosecution.”
“Buy what?”
“A piece of evidence. A small piece. It wouldn’t have saved his client, Lenrow was smart enough to realize that. But it might have slowed things down, give the jurors something to disagree about...I knew how anxious you were to have a swift trial, to see Willy punished.”
Austin’s thoughts were frozen for a moment. Then he said:
“And what was this small piece of evidence?”
“I’m sorry, Austin. I can’t tell you that. It might cost me a client—or worse, a friend. But I just can’t tell you.”
The yard was crowded. So was the prison, for that matter, housing a population of two thousand when it was planned for less than one.
Leonard Lotts had no complaints about the overcrowding, not today. It was going to work in his favor. The guards would be blindsided by the density of cons shifting about the courtyard, moving restlessly, aimlessly within the confines of the walls.
From two-thirty on, he never took his eyes off Willy Lauber.
The kid was an enigma. He never lost his dreamy smile. His vacant blue eyes looked out on his dreary surroundings without interest.
It was two minutes to three. His pals, Phil and Matty, were off by themselves, their eyes on Willy’s blond head, too. They looked at Leonard for the signal.
Leonard nodded. The three inmates moved into the thick of the crowd where Willy was standing, looking up at the leaden skies. Phil brushed by Willy, hard enough to make the kid indignant. Before he could voice a protest, Marty came from another direction, hit him hard with his shoulder, making Willy stagger.
“Hey!” Willy said. “What’s the big idea?”
Now it was Leonard’s turn. He raced into the group, pulling the knife out of his shirt as he did, driving the blade deep into Willy’s chest. A burst of derisive laughter from some card players nearby covered up the sound of the young man’s gasp. There were so many cons pressing around him that it took him a full five seconds to fall to the ground.
Paul telephoned Austin in his bad-news voice.
“It happened,” he said. “But maybe not the way you wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
“They got to Willy in the prison yard. He was stabbed in the chest. But apparently the blade was deflected by his rib cage. Willy’s in the hospital, but—he’s alive.”
It could have been the same seedy bar where Austin and Paul had met Joe Lotts the first time. But Tucker’s Tavern was on the other side of town, and Joe Lotts wasn’t nearly as cocky as he had been on their initial encounter.
“Look, stuff happens,” he said, looking back and forth at their solemn faces. “I know guys who took four, five bullets and lived to brag about it—”
“You were paid twenty thousand dollars,” Paul said stiffly. “But you didn’t make good on the deal.”
“We didn’t make no guarantees. You want your money back, forget it!”
“It’s not the money,” Austin said. “All I want is Willy Lauber’s obituary. And I’m willing to pay if you still think you can make that happen.”
Lotts’s round face brightened. “Hey, that’s just what I was thinking! Nobody pinned the job on Leonard. The kid himself said he didn’t know who knifed him! And he won’t be in that hospital forever—”
“Another ten thousand dollars,” Austin said. “Twenty, if he can get it done before the 31st.”
“Hey!” Lotts chuckled. “For another twenty grand, Leonard will walk right into that ward and finish the job!”
Paul walked Austin back to his hotel room. He looked at the suitcase on the bed and asked: “Were you leaving?”
“I was,” Austin said bitterly. “I was going back home, put the house up for sale. I thought I could go back to some kind of normal life.”
They had a drink. They had two. When Austin poured his third, Paul tried to distract him by turning on the television. He regretted it the moment the six o’clock news began, and the newscaster’s first words were: “—Willy Lauber.”
“What? What?” Austin shouted at the screen.
“—the convicted murderer of Delores Howard escaped from the ambulance transferring him to a city hospital where he had been expected to receive emergency surgery—”
“Escaped!” Austin cried. “Did you hear that?”
“They got careless,” Paul said. “They must have thought he was too weak—” He gripped Austin’s shoulder. “There’s no reason to worry,” he said confidently. “They’ll catch up to him.”
“But Willy’s a lucky boy, remember? He gets away with murder.”
“They’ll get him, probably in a matter of hours. The kid is wounded, he took a knife in the chest! How far can he get?”
“And what if they don’t? What if Willy hops a boat for South America, or sneaks across the border to Mexico, finds some obliging spinster only too happy to shelter a handsome young boy?”
“Forget it! Willy’s not smart enough to do any of those things. Look what he did after—after what happened at your house. He went home! He went home to sleep!”
“Yes,” Austin said. “And I haven’t slept since...’’
He felt a strong desire to see Libby again. He called her at home.
The restaurant was called Cielo’s. She was already at a table when Austin arrived, with a bottle of Chianti in front of her. It was half-empty.
“I didn’t know you could drink so much.”
“I learned how in these past two years,” Libby said. “First my divorce, then Delores, now you. Reason enough, right?”
“I’m no reason,” he said.
“But you are.” She filled his glass and then her own again. “Don’t you remember?” She smiled briefly. “We weren’t just acquaintances when I introduced you to my sister. For a while I thought we were heading someplace. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“We didn’t date that often, Libby. Three or four times—”
“And then along came Del.” The smile reappeared. “I’m sure you realize it wasn’t a new situation. All through school, every boy I met faded out of my life after meeting Del.”
“Did you resent her?”
“How could I? Del was a natural force. Like thunderstorms. Besides, it was my litmus test for boyfriends. If they chased after Del, I lost interest in them.”
“That was wise of you.”
“Not always. There was the occasional exception.” She looked at her glass. It was empty. She filled it again.
“Easy,” Austin said.
“I can’t take it easy. I can’t say what I’m going to say without—what do they call it?—bottled courage?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve debated myself about this, Austin. Not just since Del died, but long before that. Whether or not you should know the truth. Whether ignorance was bliss for you. And most recently—whether I should follow the old advice about—never speaking ill of the dead...”
Austin stiffened. What is it? Something about Delores?”
“I’m sure she loved you. I’m just not sure how she defined ‘love.’ She was unfaithful, Austin. No, you didn’t have a rival. There was no ‘other man.’
“There were many.”
Austin wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell Libby she was lying, that her lifelong rivalry with her sister was behind this terrible slander…
But he looked into her tear-filled eyes and knew it was the truth. Del, his Del, had been leading a secret life…
“Tell me how you knew,” he said.
“Because she told me about it,” Libby said. “Del always told me about the men in her life, ever since we were teenagers. It was important to her, to prove how desirable she was…”
“My God, Libby...”
“I thought it would be over when you married her. Remember those copper bracelets people wore because they believed it would cure arthritis? I thought that ring on her finger was going to be a cure, too.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“It seemed to be, that first year. Then one day...” She put down her glass. “She told me about this congressman she met when she was working in that bookshop. She giggled like a schoolgirl. I tried to talk her out of meeting him, and she accused me of jealousy.”
“Don’t finish that glass, Libby. You’re going to be sick.”
“There were a half-dozen men after that one. She changed them frequently, like bed linen. I thought of telling you, but I just couldn’t do it...”
A terrible idea stabbed into his brain. “Libby—you’re not suggesting that—Willy—”
“No!” she said vehemently. “All her men were ‘important.’ That was part of her game. They had to have ‘substance.’ And they had to be married... That was part of her satisfaction.”
She went pale suddenly. “You know, I think you’re right. I’m going to be sick.”
Austin took her home. She wouldn’t allow him to stay; she preferred to be sick in solitude.
He returned to the hotel, trying not to think about what he had been told.
Joe Lotts was in the lobby.
Austin barely recognized him in the surroundings. But it was Joe, all right. Not looking apologetic.
“What do you want?’’ Austin said harshly.
“Maybe we better talk in private.”
He brought Joe into his room, fully expecting him to ask for the money he hadn’t earned. But Joe surprised him. “I know where the kid is, Mr. Howard.”
“Are you serious?”
“I could hardly believe my luck. I mean, first my bad luck, this zitface breaking out of that hospital. Then my good luck—”
“Tell me where he is! And how you know!”
“There’s a pal of mine, lives on East Avenue. Some kids in his neighborhood, like a gang, they prowl around the section where they’re tearing down buildings. For a housing project, you know? They spotted this blond guy sleeping in one of the condemned buildings. They rolled him, thinking he was a drunk. Only he didn’t have no money.
“What happened to him? Where is he now?”
“My friend goes to have a look for himself. He recognizes the prison outfit. He put two and two together.”
“Where is he?” Austin said. “Where’s Willy Lauber?”
“My friend, he’s sort of got this guy in what you call custody. Sometimes there’s a reward for turning in escaped cons.”
“He won’t call the police, will he?”
“Not if he gets a better offer.”
“I’ll pay him,” Austin said. “I’ll pay you both five thousand if you take me to him! Will you do that?”
Joe Lotts gave him a toothy smile. “Sure, Mr. Howard. Glad to help.”
Austin said: “Are you carrying a gun, Joe?”
“Who, me? Why?”
“If you are, I’ll pay you another five thousand for it.”
Joe looked delighted; it was his lucky day, all right. He put his right foot on a chair and rolled up his pants leg. There was a small automatic pistol strapped to his calf. He undid the straps and handed it over. “It’s loaded and ready to party.”
Austin looked at the weapon as if it was a sacred relic.
He took a taxi, and had himself dropped off three blocks from the demolition site.
There was no one in sight when he crossed the rubble-strewn streets. He could see the building Lotts had described. He identified the faded letters on the old brick. Hacker’s Tobacco. He was grimly amused.
There wasn’t a front door, just as Joe had said, but two boards had been nailed across the entrance. They were hanging loose. He pushed them aside and went up the stairs. They creaked loudly.
The sound must have alerted Willy. He looked up from a crude palette of flattened packing cases and filthy rags.
A faint smile appeared as Willy realized it wasn’t the police. It was a civilian, maybe another squatter like himself. It was only when Austin came within ten feet of him that Willy put a name to the face.
“Mr. Howard…” he whispered.
The boy had a starved look. His housewife-admirers wouldn’t have thought him handsome now. Through his open shirt, Austin could see the layers of bandage across his chest, tattered and dirty. If Joe Lotts’s automatic didn’t kill him, sepsis would probably do the job.
“How’d you find me, Mr. Howard?” he said. “Are you going to call the police?”
“I am the police,” Austin said. “I’m also the judge, the jury, and the guy who was going to give you that lethal injection. Do you understand?”
“I don’t understand nothing,” Willy said. “Things just happen to me, Mr. Howard. Like your wife, you know? I didn’t want to hurt her, I swear I didn’t... Half of it was an accident. The other half...I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Austin took out the gun.
“Look at me, Willy.”
Willy looked, and asked: “You going to shoot me, Mr. Howard?”
“The word is execute. You know you deserve to die. My wife didn’t, but you killed her anyway.”
“She drove me crazy, Mr. Howard! It was her own fault.”
“Did your mother ever teach you to pray? Now’s a good time.”
He lifted the gun and aimed it at Willy’s forehead.
“She never should have done it!” the boy cried. “If she didn’t want me to be friendly, she never should have sent me that note!”
The muzzle of the automatic shifted an inch.
“What ‘note’? What are you talking about?”
“He should have told them about it! Mr. Lenrow! I asked him to show them the note Mrs. Howard wrote, but he said it wouldn’t do any good!”
“My wife never wrote to you, Willy, that’s just a lie!”
“But she did, she did! She slipped it into the basket I carry the milk in! I got all excited when I read it, when she told me she’d be expecting me, when she said she couldn’t wait—”
Austin almost fired the gun then, his anger concentrated in his trigger finger.
“You ask Mr. Lenrow,” Willy said, tears on his gaunt cheeks. “Mr. Lenrow has the note. I swear he does!”
Austin was frozen in space and time, and he wondered—did David Lenrow have such a note? Or—had he sold it?
Ever since his divorce, Paul Manners worked late, killing the lonely hours with torts and affidavits. Austin knew he would find him at his office, even at ten minutes past eight.
“Where the hell have you been?” Paul looked at Austin’s soiled suit, the plaster dust coating his shoes.
Austin didn’t bother to answer. He said: “Tell me about the note, Paul.”
“What note?”
“The one Del sent Willy Lauber. The note you bought from the defense with a hundred thousand dollars of my money.”
Paul’s lips tightened. “Is that what Dave Lenrow told you?”
“It was Willy who told me. Willy Lauber.”
“Then they’ve caught him? He’s back in prison?”
Yes,” Austin said. “Willy’s in the hospital. They say he would have died if he didn’t get treated. Funny, isn’t it? I start out to kill him and end up saving his life.”
“But how—?”
“I found Willy and turned him in. But not before he told me about Del’s note.”
“Exactly what did he tell you?”
He said Del invited him to a rendezvous that morning...I told him he was a rotten liar, and he said Lenrow had the note that proved it. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t used at his trial. But we do, don’t we?”
The lines in Paul’s face deepened. “I had to buy it, Austin. For your sake. The shock of Delores’s death half-killed you. If you knew about that note, if you had sat in that courtroom and heard it read aloud...I thought that might finish you off.”
Austin sat down. “Libby told me the truth. About Del, about this madness inside her... And I didn’t know! Can you believe that, Paul? That she was cheating on me, big time, with so many men—”
“You don’t know how bad it was, and I doubt Libby knows either. If you ask me, Libby was always jealous of her sister—”
“All I’m asking you for is that note! I paid for it—I’ve got the right to know what it says!”
“The note’s gone, Austin, I destroyed it. And I didn’t try to memorize it. I knew it was best forgotten.”
Austin was fighting tears. Paul’s next words were gentle. “You’ve got to forget it, too. You’ve got to put Del and Willy and this whole terrible year behind you...”
Dave Lenrow was at his desk at eight the next morning. Just as Paul Manners worked late, Lenrow began his day early, a habit he had picked up from a diligent father.
“I told you there was nothing I could tell you, Mr. Howard—”
“But I have something to tell you. Do you know about the Complaint Review Board in this state? Do you know you could lose your license because of what you did? Suppressing evidence?”
“What is it you want from me? This note you’re talking about, it’s in your lawyer’s possession—”
“I can’t believe you didn’t make a copy.”
A few minutes later, it was in his hand. Austin read:
Come early! About nine o’clock! Austin has a meeting, so he’ll be out of the house no later than eight-thirty. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves, but the bedroom will be enough...I can hardly wait...
Willy was looking better against the clean sheets of his hospital bed, but his eyes were still apprehensive when Austin appeared.
Austin showed him the Xeroxed note. “Was this it, Willy? Is this what you found in that empty milk basket?”
Willy studied it for a long moment, and said: “Yes...this is the note she wrote me. Only...”
“Only what?”
A blush added some color to his white face. “I didn’t tell you the truth, Mr. Howard, the whole truth, I mean. I didn’t find the note in my basket, like I said. He gave it to me.”
“He?”
“I guess he didn’t want anyone to know how Mrs. Howard liked me. That’s why I made up the story about her putting the note in the milk basket. But he gave it to me. In person.”
The real estate lady had just left when Libby appeared at the front door. “I just heard—about Willy being caught again. They said you were responsible.”
“It was nothing heroic. Willy was no threat to anybody. And as it turned out, I was no threat to Willy.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am!” She embraced him. Then she moved away suddenly and said: “You went there to kill him, didn’t you?”
“You’re a mind-reader, Libby.”
“The gun’s still in your pocket. I could feel it.”
Austin patted the bulge of the automatic and shrugged. “I have to go. I’ve got an appointment.”
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“All right,” Austin said. “I’ll meet you Cielo’s at what? Seven-thirty?”
There was no one at the secretarial desk when Austin walked into Paul Manners’ office. Paul was sorting through a stack of files, looking annoyed.
“Simone off today?” Austin asked.
“The old bursitis dodge,” Paul grunted. He pushed the files aside and sat down. “You look better than you did last night.”
“I don’t feel any better,” Austin said. “Not after seeing Willy in the hospital.”
“You’re getting awfully chummy with Del’s killer,” Paul said dryly. “First you save his life, then you bring him flowers.”
“The visit was worthwhile. I got the whole truth out of him, about the note Delores wrote.”
“Austin, stop chewing on this bone! I told you last night—put it all behind you, get a life—a new life.”
“Willy said someone gave him that note. Handed it to him personally.”
“You can’t believe a dimwit like Willy Lauber!”
“The note was a lie, Paul. Libby was right. Del would never seduce a lowlife like Willy. She was after big game. Hot-shot executives, men with money, big jobs—wives.”
“You know what I think about Libby’s opinions.”
“And now I know why she never liked you. Because you were supposed to be my best friend. And you were having an affair with my wife.”
“My God, Austin, you can’t really believe that!”
“You gave Willy the note. The note that had once been written to you. Only you told Willy it was addressed to him—”
“No! I swear I never did such a thing—”
“You wanted to punish her for dropping you the minute your divorce came through... Del didn’t get any kicks out of affairs with divorced men. They were too easy…”
Austin took the gun out of his pocket.
“I’d like you to get down on your knees, Paul.”
“For God’s sake, put that thing away!”
“On your knees, in front of me.” He pointed the gun. “Or else I’ll ruin that nice leather chair of yours. Go on!”
The lawyer came around the desk and dropped to his knees. When Austin put the cold muzzle of the gun against his forehead, he began to sob.
“I didn’t mean it to work out the way it did! So help me God, I didn’t! I was angry with Del! I wanted to play a joke on her! That was all! Please, Austin, please!”
Austin didn’t appear to be listening. He was looking at Paul’s desk calendar.
“Do you know what day it is, Paul? It’s the 31st.”
He squeezed the trigger. The click made Paul cry out.
Austin said: “I emptied the magazine after I saw Willy. I didn’t think I needed bullets anymore.”
He put the gun back in his pocket and went to meet Libby at the restaurant. For the first time in months, he was hungry.