Even the Wicked

Page 17

 

  "You did at that. "

  "But," he went on, "theres an easy way to do that, and its done all the time, and not necessarily to defraud an insurance company. All you have to do is get in your car and drive into a bridge abutment. I dont know what the best guesses are as to percentages, but the conventional wisdom holds that a whole lot of unwitnessed single-car accidents are nothing but suicide, whether preplanned or spontaneous. Its a foolproof method for killing yourself and being buried with the full rites of the Catholic church, and it would be just as effective in getting double payment from John Hancock and his friends. "

  I thought of the earnest lady from the Hemlock Society. "And for city dwellers who dont have cars-"

  "Theres always the subway. You lose your balance and fall in front of it. Heres the kicker, though. Say youre determined to make it look like murder. Unless your name is Ed Hoch or John Dickson Carr, youre not going to turn it into a fucking locked room murder, are you? Because thats what this is. The securitys so tight, between the bodyguards and the burglar alarm, nobody can figure out how the hell Will got in there to drop the poison in. Its so obviously impossible that half the citys convinced Adrian must have done it himself, which is just what hes supposed to have attempted to conceal. Does that make any sense to you?"

  "Wherever Adrian is now," I said, "if he needs an attorney, I think he ought to pick a guy named Gruliow. "

  "Im right, though, wouldnt you say? Makes no sense. "

  "I agree. "

  "Well, let me frost the cupcake for you. All his coverage was term insurance, and there wasnt a single policy with a double-indemnity clause. Case closed. "

  * * *

  He was convincing, but I wasnt entirely convinced. Id seen too many people do too many illogical things to rule out any act by a human being on the grounds that it didnt make sense.

  Meanwhile, there was still Will to be considered. Even if Adrian Whitfield had died by his own hand, you had to give Will an assist at the very least. One columnist argued, perhaps facetiously, that the anonymous killer was getting more powerful every time. Hed had to get out there and kill his first three victims all by himself, but all hed had to do was point a finger at numbers four and five. Once targeted by Will, they were struck down with no effort on his part, Rashid by an enemy within his gates, Whitfield by an even more intimate enemy, the one who lived within his own skin.

  "Pretty soon he wont even have to write letters," Denis Hamill concluded. "Hell just think his powerful thoughts in private, and the bad guysll be dropping like flies. "

  Funny, I thought, that we hadnt heard from him.

  Tuesday morning I was up before Elaine, and I had breakfast on the table when she got out of the shower. "Great cantaloupe," she pronounced. "Much better than yesterday. "

  "Its the other half of the one we had yesterday," I said.

  "Oh," she said. "I guess its the preparation. "

  "I put it on a plate," I said, "and I set it in front of you. "

  "Yes, thats just what you did, you old bear. And nobody could have done it better, either. "

  "Its all in the wrist. "

  "Must be. "

  "Combined with a sort of Zen approach," I said. "I was concentrating on something else while I just let breakfast happen. "

  "Concentrating on what?"

  "On a dream I cant remember. "

  "You hardly ever remember your dreams. "

  "I know," I said, "but I woke up with the feeling that there was something this dream was trying to tell me, and it seemed to me it was a dream Id had before. In fact-"

  "Yes?"

  "Well, I have the sense of having been dreaming this dream a lot lately. "

  "The same dream. "

  "I think so. "

  "Which you cant remember. "

  "It had a familiarity to it," I said, "as if Id been there before. I dont know if its the same dream each time, but I think I keep dreaming about the same person each time. Hes right there, and hes looking very earnest and trying to tell me some thing, and I wake up and hes gone. "

  "Like a puff of smoke. "

  "Sort of. "

  "Like your lap when you stand up. "

  "Well…"

  "Who is he?"

  "Thats the problem," I said. "I dont remember who he is, and no matter how much I try to remember-"

  "Quit trying. "

  "Huh?"

  She rose, moved to stand behind me. She smoothed my hair back with the tips of her fingers. "Theres nothing to remember," she said. "Just ease up. So dont try to remember. Just answer the question. Whod you dream about?"

  "I dont know. "

  "Thats okay. Imagine Adrian Whitfield. "

  "It wasnt Adrian Whitfield. "

  "Of course it wasnt. Imagine him anyway. "

  "All right. "

  "Now imagine Vollman. "

  "Who?"

  "The one who killed those kids. "

  "Vollmer. "

  "Fine, Vollmer. Imagine him. "

  "It wasnt-"

  "I know it wasnt. Humor me, okay? Imagine him. "

  "All right. "

  "Now imagine Ray Gruliow. "

  "I didnt dream about Ray," I said, "and this isnt going to work. I appreciate what youre trying to do-"

  "I know you do. "

  "But its not going to work. "

  "I know. Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

  "I suppose so. "

  "Whats your name?"

  "Matthew Scudder. "

  "Whats your wifes name?"

  "Elaine Mardell. Elaine Mardell Scudder. "

  "Do you love her?"

  "Do you have to ask?"

  "Just answer the question. Do you love her?"

  "Yes. "

  "Whod you dream about?"

  "Nice try, but its not going to…"

  "Yes?"

  "Ill be a son of a bitch. "

  "So? Are you going to tell me?"

  "Pleased with yourself, arent you?"

  "Pleased beyond measure, and-now stop that!"

  "I just want to touch it for a minute. "

  "Say the name, will you? Before it slips your mind again. "

  "It wont," I said. "Now why in the hell would I dream about him?"

  "Fine, keep me in suspense. "

  "Glenn Holtzmann," I said. "How did you do that?"

  "Ve haff vays of making you remember. "

  "So it would seem. Glenn Holtzmann. Why Glenn Holtzmann, for Christs sake?"

  I was no closer to the answer an hour later when I went downstairs for the papers. Then I forgot Glenn Holtzmann for the time being.

  There had been another letter from Will.

  9

  "An Open Letter to the People of New York. "

  Thats how Will headed it. He had addressed and mailed it, like all the others, to Marty McGraw at the Daily News, and they were the ones with the story. They gave it the front-page headline and led with it, under McGraws byline. His column, "Since You Asked…" ran as a sidebar, and the full text of Wills letter appeared on the page opposite. It was a long letter for Will, running to just under eight hundred words, which made it just about the same length as McGraws column.

  He started out by claiming credit (or assuming responsibility) for the murder of Adrian Whitfield. His tone was boastful; he talked at first about the elaborate security set up to protect Whitfield, the burglar alarm, the three shifts of bodyguards, the armor-plated limousine with the bulletproof glass. "But no man can prevail against the Will of the People," he proclaimed. "No man can run from it. No man can hide from it. Consider Roswell Berry, who fled to Omaha. Consider Julian Rashid, behind his fortified walls in St. Albans. The Will of the People can reach across vast space, it can slip through the stoutest defenses. No man can resist it. "

  Whitfield, Will went on, was by no means the worst lawyer in the world. It had simply been his lot to serve as representative of an ineradicable evil in the legal profession,
an apparent willingness to do anything, however abhorrent and immoral, in the service of a client. "We nod in approval when an attorney defends the indefensible, and even tolerate behavior in a clients interest which would earn the lawyer a horsewhipping were he so to act on his own behalf. "

  Then Will launched into an evaluation of the legal system, questioning the value of the jury system. There was nothing startlingly original about any of the points he raised, though he argued them reasonably enough so that you found yourself ready to forget you were reading the words of a serial murderer.

  He ended on a personal note. "I find Im tired of killing. I am grateful to have been the instrument selected to perform these several acts of social surgery. But there is a heavy toll taken on him who is called upon to do evil in the service of a greater good. Ill rest now, until the day comes when Im once again called to act. "

  * * *

  I had a question, and I made half a dozen phone calls trying to get an answer. Eventually I got around to calling the News. I gave my name to the woman who answered and said Id like to talk to Marty McGraw. She took my number, and within ten minutes the phone rang.

  "Marty McGraw," he said. "Matthew Scudder, youre the detective Whitfield hired, right? I think we might have met once. "

  "Years ago. "

  "Most of my life is years ago. What have you got for me?"

  "A question. Did the letter run verbatim?"

  "Absolutely. Why?"

  "No cuts at all? Nothing held back at the cops request?"

  "Now how could I tell you that?" He sounded aggrieved. "For all I know, you could be Will yourself. "

  "Youre absolutely right," I said. "On the other hand, if I were Will, Id probably know whether or not you cut my copy. "

  "Jesus," he said, "Id hate to be the one to do something like that. I know how I get when that mutt at the big desk cuts my copy, and Im not a homicidal maniac. "

  "Well, neither am I. Look, heres what Im getting at. As far as I can tell, theres nothing in the letter to disprove the suicide theory. "

  "Theres Wills word on the subject. He says he did it. "

  "And hes never lied to us in the past. "

  "As far as I know," he said, "he hasnt. With Roswell Berry in Omaha he refused to confirm or deny, but he was being cute. "

  "He mentioned that Berryd been stabbed, if I remember correctly. "

  "Thats right, and that was information the police had held back, so that certainly suggested hed had a hand in it. "

  "Well, is there anything like that in the latest letter? Because I couldnt spot it. Thats why I wondered if anything had been cut. "

  "No, we ran it verbatim. I wasnt kidding when I said Id hate to be the one to cut his copy. Im already getting more attention than I want from the guy. "

  "I can see where it must have cost you a lot of readers. "

  His laugh was like a terriers bark. "In that respect," he admitted, "it s a fucking godsend. My only regret is he didnt get this rolling before my recent contract negotiations. Same time, a person gets nervous being Wills window on the world. I have to figure hes reading me three times a week. Suppose he doesnt like what I write? Last thing I want to do is piss off an original thinker like him. "