Holding my breath, I slipped my body sideways through the opening and plunged into the unknown. I stood absolutely still. I listened while the suite breathed. It was like the sound of a sick person on life support.
What came to me at length was a sob. It was a sound so stifled I swear I felt my heart constrict.
“Caro?”
With my musician’s ear, tone was something I could identify in a heartbeat. I had recognised my daughter’s voice.
“Caro!”
My daughter’s voice was muffled by the bathroom door. “Caro, darling.” A swhimpering wrenched at my heart. “What are you doing in there, sweetheart? Please come out.” That’s when I saw the pale outline of the desk chair wedged under the doorknob.
“Get the hell away from there!”
I whirled, saw Willie standing in the open doorway to the master bedroom of the suite.
“I locked her in.”
I moved to pull the chair away, but he grabbed my wrist.
“For her own protection, Perse. She would have tried to save him.”
That was when I saw the gun in his hand. “What the hell have you done?”
“What had to be done.” How can I say this right? He was trembling from head to foot. Not with fear, but with elation. “I’ve freed her.” He meant Caro, of course. He was not wrong there.
“For God’s sake, Perse. I have it all worked out. Why did you come up here? I told you I’d take care of everything. You were meant to sleep through it all.”
I pulled away from him, and went into the bedroom. At first I saw very little. Willie or perhaps Caro had pulled the heavy drapes back so that the city’s lights spangled the raindrops on the windowpanes, sending golden fingers into the darkness. I saw the huge bed with its rucked sheets. I walked slowly around the foot as if drawn by a magnet toward the far side. But then, death is the most powerful kind of magnet, isn’t it?
“Perse, get out of there!” Willie had followed me into the bedroom. “Dammit, you’ll fuck it all up!”
“Stay away from me.” I was staring at the lumped shape twisted up in the bedding.
“Caroline didn’t recognise me.” Willie switched tactics, knowing he needed to placate me to get me the hell out of there now. “It’s so dark in there, as far as she knows, a burglar broke into the room. I bundled her off to the bathroom before she saw my face.” He raised a fist filled with Caro’s jewellery and Eddie’s Rolex watch and rings. “Shit, the less you know the better. What’s done is done, but you being here-you’re going to make it more difficult than it needs to be. Jesus, Perse, you know you’re not strong enough to stand up to the cops. There’ll be a thousand questions I’ll have to answer.”
The thing about the space around the lumped shape, I saw, was that it was dark as the blackest night. And shiny as an oil slick. The sickly-sweet smell of fresh blood stuck in my nostrils like tar. What I couldn’t figure out was how he’d gotten the best of Eddie.
“Perse, have you been listening to me?” The urgency in Willie’s voice had risen to fever pitch. “Time to-be careful! For Christ’s sake, don’t touch anything!”
But it was too late. I’d pulled back the bedcovers, and gasped. There was Eddie, lying on his back with the biggest hard-on I’d ever seen, or it would have been minutes ago when his heart was still pumping. So this is how Willie did it, I thought. For a moment, I felt sorry for Eddie. It must be damn hard to defend yourself when your brain’s dulled by sex.
“What’s happened here is already ancient history. Put it out of your head. Caroline can start her life over now. We’ll get your fingerprints off the sheet and get the hell out of here.”
He still doesn’t get it, I thought. But he will. This stupid cow will make sure of that.
I reached into my purse and drew on a pair of gloves. Then I carefully unwrapped the heavy object from the butcher’s paper. It smelled of machine oil, and a curious masculine scent almost as compelling as musk. My forefinger curled around the trigger. It felt oddly natural, like the ivory of keys beneath my fingertips. I turned and exhaled a long, slow breath. Then I squeezed the trigger of the 9mm gun.
The sound startled me, but Willie’s body slamming back against the far wall did not. I watched him incuriously, sitting spread legged on the floor like an idiot child. Blood pumped out of his chest, and there was a stunned expression on his face that gave me a good measure of satisfaction. And why not? While it was true that for years I had forgiven him his fear of what made me happy and complete, this forgiveness had, without my knowing, turned to pity. As anyone who has lived a long life will tell you, it’s a short step from pity to contempt. And, then, to hatred as pure as middle C. Still standing across the room, I carefully aimed at his head and squeezed off another shot. Bone and brains fountainhead outward with a great gout of blood. Like something on a movie screen, nothing more, I told myself.
Except for the stench.
I closed my mind to everything except what needed to be done. No need to hurry. This suite did not abut any others, and directly downstairs was my own suite. Nobody outside these rooms could have heard a thing.
I carefully rubbed the spot on the sheet I had touched with my bare fingers. Then I leaned over and placed the gun into Eddie’s left hand. He was left handed, and this was his 9mm. I inserted his forefinger into the trigger guard and, pointing the 9mm toward Willie, I fired the gun so the paraffin test they’d be sure to do on Eddie would be positive.
Perfect.
To leave the bedroom I was required to step over the exsanguinating body of my husband. I was careful to avoid splotches of blood and gore soaking into the expensive carpet. I took the chair away from the bathroom door and opened it. Caro was huddled on the tiles, clearly in shock. What had Willie done to her? I wondered. Dark blotches had broken out on her forehead and left cheek, and had begun to swell. He had struck her to make the break-in seem more authentic. Of course Willie had had no intention of cutting a deal with Eddie. He’d gone up to the presidential suite to kill him. But then, I had known he would. It was only the eventual outcome that had been in doubt. Men and their dangerously addictive toys, I thought as I gently touched my daughter’s shoulder.
Caro’s eyes opened wide when she recognised me. She could hardly believe it.
“My darling…” I gathered my daughter to me, gently supported her against the sink as we embraced.
“Mom, what happened?” Caro’s voice was that of a sleepwalker, high and thin with unnatural tension. “Someone broke in. I think-“