Death by the Book - Lenny Bartulin [73]
‘Take his handcuffs off.’
Peterson pushed Durst stiffly in the chest. ‘Settle down, you fucking idiot.’
Jack said: ‘You think a couple of tapes are going to keep Annabelle quiet after she finds out you killed her father?’
‘What tapes?’ Durst looked over at Peterson, frowning. He turned to Jack again and then back to Peterson. ‘What tapes?’
The detective stretched thin lips across his small, pointy, tightly packed teeth. ‘Annabelle isn’t going to say a fucking thing.’
Durst ran a hand through his hair. Then he walked up close, bent down and put his face an inch from Jack’s. ‘Oh, I get it. Poor little boyfriend! Did the sexy lady tell him she loved him?’
Jack stared at Durst. Noticed the blue of his eyes. The ironed-out wrinkles. Smelt the expensive aftershave. ‘Don’t you know about the tapes?’ said Jack.
Durst grinned. ‘Sucker without a gun,’ he whispered.
There was a noise in the kitchen, a rattling cutlery drawer. Peterson, Durst and Jack all looked up. Celia Mitten walked around the corner. Her hair was pinned back, her face grim and threatening even though her cheeks were flushed with morning cold. She wore a long, pale purple jumper over a long black skirt. The hem was wet in patches and smeared with mud. She was holding something behind her back.
‘You killed my father!’
Durst looked alarmed. ‘I thought I told you to wait in the car.’
‘You bastard!’
She ran at him. She was surprisingly quick. Her hand came out from behind her back. There was a steak knife in her fist.
Durst leaned backwards, put his hands up as Celia lunged at him screaming. The knife stuck in his shoulder, in the soft flesh just below the collarbone. He groaned and then fell back onto Jack, still handcuffed in the chair. The white painted cane broke beneath them and they collapsed to the floor.
Celia managed to keep hold of the knife. It came out of Durst’s shoulder, after she had twisted the steel in there for a bit. It had missed the padding of his thick black coat — blood was steadily staining the white shirt underneath. Celia writhed on top of him, trying to re-insert the serrated blade. Durst grabbed her throat.
‘Get her off me! Get her off me!’ His eyes were wide with shock.
‘Bastard!’ screamed Celia.
Jack rolled clear. The handcuff on his right wrist was still attached to the armrest; he dragged a large piece of smashed chair with him as he moved. His eyes were fixed on the doorway leading out of the living area. He commando-crawled towards it as fast as he could.
He was halfway across when the gun went off.
22
‘FUCK, FUCK, FUCK,’ repeated Durst through rapid, shallow breaths. His face was tight with pain. He pulled himself clear of Celia Mitten’s body.
Peterson still had his gun pointed at the dead woman. He held it in one hand, his stance comfortable, his arm straight but not rigid. He did not blink: his eyes had seen it all before.
‘Fuck! Get me something.’ Durst rolled onto his side, away from Celia, holding his shoulder. ‘I’m bleeding!’
Peterson shifted his eyes to Durst. The gun followed his line of sight, his arm swung around slowly, precisely. He pulled the trigger, twice. The bullets thumped into Ian Durst’s body. One of them exited through his chest: thick, black heart blood spread quickly and smoothly and soaked his white shirt. His eyes were open, frozen. His last breath pushed a bubble of blood out over his lips: it grew for a moment and then popped, gone.
In a low voice the detective said: ‘May as well be now.’
Jack looked up towards the doorway. No chance. By the time he stood up to run for it, he would be down on the floor again, heavier by at least two regulation police bullets.
Detective Geoff Peterson lowered his arm. ‘Up you get, Jackie boy,’ he said, as though nothing had happened. ‘Over here.’
Jack pressed his forehead into the nylon-blend carpet. It was probably not even 10.00 a.m. yet.
‘Don’t make me shoot you.’
With some effort, Jack stood up. A piece of cane chair dangled from the handcuffs. ‘Ziggy isn’t going to like blood all over his carpet,’ he said.
‘That’s his problem.’
Jack