“Yes.”
“And then you watched the people who watched her?”
Toffler nodded. “It was living art, fantastically successful, perhaps the best work I’ve ever done. “ He shook his head. “But then Angelica vulgarized it. She became a disgusting little tease in front of that old man.”
“I guess you guys went a few rounds over that, didn’t you?” Caleb asked.
Toffler’s eyes flashed toward him. “What?”
“You fought,” Frank said.
“I fought for my art,” Toffler said.
“But Angelica wouldn’t give in,” Frank said.
“I tried to make her understand,” Toffler said, “but she had lost it. Even then, I think I still could have been able to work with her, but then she ruined herself, ruined the whole project.”
“By getting pregnant,” Frank said.
Toffler nodded. “That was unbearable. She was going to be just another fat, flabby, pregnant teenager.” He stared at the portrait of Angelica. “What good would she be after that?”
Frank eased himself forward cautiously, his feet hardly leaving the floor. “And so you killed her,” he said.
“No,” Toffler said. “Of course not. That would have been ridiculous. In fact, she even had a change of heart. She came back to me. She said she’d gotten a lot of money by telling her guardian that she was pregnant and was going to keep the baby.”
“But she wasn’t going to do that?” Frank asked.
“Of course not,” Toffler said. “She was going to get rid of it. She was going to move to New York and then she was going to get rid of it. I told her that by then it would be too late, if she wanted an abortion, it had to be done now.”
“So what did she do?” Frank asked.
“I told her to get rid of the baby,” Toffler repeated. “It was as simple as that.”
“Did you tell her to use lye?”
“I told her nothing,” Toffler said vehemently.
Frank pointed to the small stool which rested at the back of the room. “Did you tell her to sit on that stool? Did you tell her to expose herself? Did you tell her that it wouldn’t hurt?”
“No!” Toffler nearly shouted. “That’s enough. I’ve told you everything I know, so will you please just get out!”
Frank braced himself as Caleb stepped over and took Toffler by the arm. “We’re not through yet, Mr. Toffler. I think you’ll have to come with us.”
Toffler glared furiously, as if he was going to resist. Instantly, Frank stepped toward him, and as he did so, Toffler seemed to regain control of himself. “All right,” he sighed.
Frank felt himself begin to breathe again. The air seemed to flow around him, warm and infinitely soothing. He heard the rain on the roof again, and he felt that it was over, that Angelica’s death would be avenged, that righteousness sometimes did flow down, as his father had always proclaimed, like a mighty, mighty stream.
Then suddenly his eyes flashed down and he saw Toffler’s hand as it grabbed the chisel, then flew up into the air and plummeted downward into Caleb’s back.
Caleb bolted forward, but the hand pursued him, slamming down again as Frank grabbed for it. He could feel himself stumbling forward, reaching for the hand, but it plunged through his grasp again and he saw it bury itself into Caleb’s throat.
“No,” Frank shouted, but his voice died in the low, gurgling moan that came from Caleb’s mouth as he slumped backward and the chisel fell through the air and slashed his face. Frank could see his own bloody fingers as they grasped desperately for the chisel, but it fell again, this time into Caleb’s one open, staring eye, and the groan rose to a high, animal wail, then died away in slow degrees while Frank wrapped his arm around Toffler’s neck and squeezed until his arm went numb. The only thing he could feel was Toffler’s life flowing out of his body, and he squeezed harder, squeezing it out and out, until someone pulled him backward, and he saw the badge on the patrolman’s coat, then the steel blue barrel of the pistol as he pressed it into Toffler’s bright, blonde hair, and he could feel his breath again, and hear the rain, but the only voice that came to him was Caleb’s, half a moan, half a whisper, You’re safe, Frank, his last words.
27
Caleb was buried on a bright, sun-drenched day. The heat settled into the small gray stones of the crowded municipal cemetery, and as Frank stood silently beside the open grave, he could feel the thick, stifling air like a pillow pushed down upon his face.
Karen stood beside him, her eyes on the plain brown coffin, her lips tightly sealed. She remained in that same motionless position until the police honor guard had fired its salute, and the last of the mourners had made their way out of the cemetery.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Frank,” she said finally.
Frank looked at her. “He deserved better than this.”
“Yes.”
“When something this wrong happens, you ought to be able to appeal it somehow, take it to a higher court.”
Karen curled her hand around his and gently tugged him away from the grave.
“I’m leaving tonight,” she said.
“I thought so.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. A look.”
“I’ll come back for the trial,” Karen said. “I promise you that.”
Frank shook his head wearily. “That’s between you and the district attorney.”
Karen stopped cold and stared at him piercingly. “No, it’s between us.”
“You know how I feel about that.”
“I can’t stay here, Frank,” Karen told him. “There’s just no way I could endure it.”
“I know,” Frank said with a slight smile. “Believe me, I understand.” He started to drape his arm over her shoulder, but suddenly Toffler’s face rose in his mind, and for an instant he was back in the interrogation room, the two of them facing each other over a splintered brown table.
“Frank?”
“Do you know what Toffler said, Karen?” he asked her. “He said that if we found dirt in her mouth, it was because she was dirt.” He shook his head wonderingly. “He is alive to say a thing like that.”
Karen pulled herself under his arm. “Don’t, Frank. It’s over. Everything is over.”
But it seemed to Frank that just the opposite was true, that nothing was over. He could still see Toffler’s face in his mind, his long hair nearly white under the lamp, his translucent blue eyes, at times languid, at times blazing, but always open, terrible and sleepless, staring out forever.
“They’ll get him off on insanity,” Frank said, almost to himself. “He’ll end up in a state hospital. But he isn’t insane. He’s just rotten at the very core of himself.” He looked at Karen. “The air is always cold around him. He has no appetites. He doesn’t care about food or sex, or anything like that. He says he never touched Angelica, never wanted to. I believe him.”
“No more, Frank,” Karen said pleadingly. “Please, enough of this.”
Frank looked at her pointedly. “A person is lost, isn’t he, Karen, when he no longer cares about anything pleasurable?”
Karen stepped away from him. “I won’t talk about him anymore, Frank,” she said firmly. She walked quickly over to her car and got in. “I wanted you to take me to the airport tonight,” she said. “But now, I’m not so sure.
“ Frank tried to smile. “When’s your flight?”
“Two in the morning. Everything else was booked up.”
“I’ll pick you up at home,” Frank told her. “Be ready at midnight.”
But first he had some more questions to ask.
“You must be drawn to me,” Toffler said quietly, as he took his seat across the table.
Frank peered into his eyes. “Why do you say that?”