Hard Candy - Andrew Vachss [49]
"The cops think it was me on the roof too?"
"Probably do, by now."
"We both know it wasn't. So you got a sniper in your stable too."
"He was a loaner. From a friend. I can't use him again."
"Okay. They won't dime you for the Sutton Place thing. It won't fly."
"How d'you know?"
"I dress in a nice suit, nice trench coat. Eight–hundred–dollar brief–case, Rolex, diamond ring. I'm a lawyer, right? I tell the doorman I got a package for Mrs. Swanson in 21A. From Mr. Torenelli. He makes the call, I go up. No problem. Maid's day off. I know. Ring the bell, she answers it herself. Starts right in on me. 'I told my father I didn't want to have anything to do with his…' I cut her off, tell her I just got a couple of papers in my briefcase for her to sign and I'm out of there. She treats me like a servant, turns her back on me. I close the door behind her, follow her to the living room. Open the briefcase. She's still yakking at me when I hook her in the stomach with a set of brass knuckles. She's out—can't get a breath. Anesthetic nose plugs and she goes right to sleep. I take off my clothes, lay them in the briefcase. Talcum powder on my hands, surgeon's gloves. Carry her to the bedroom. Piano wire until she's spread out. I find a chopping block and a set of those Ginsu knives in the kitchen. All those rich assholes have fancy kitchens. I put the block under her neck, pull her hair back, and take the head off. Half a dozen shots is all it took. Blood spurts out all over the back wall. I stick the head into her cunt, facing out. Say hello to her husband when he comes home. I write the number two on the wall in her blood. That's the polygraph key the cops'll use when freaks start confessing. I take a shower. Pop open the drain. Pour three bottles of that Liquid Plumber stuff down, leave the hot–water tap on. I get dressed, put everything back in the briefcase. I go downstairs, tell the doorman the package is too big to lug through the lobby. Mrs. Swanson wants it through she service entrance. Wants him to handle it personally, right? Slip him a pair of twenties. I'll drive around into the back alley with the box, he'll meet me there, take it up to her. I drive out back. He opens the door. I put three rounds into him. Pop, pop, pop. Drive away. The papers don't have that body either. But the cops, they know they ain't looking for a maniac. They ain't looking for an amateur like you either. They know."
His voice wasn't chilly, just flat. Not quite bored.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was going to spook them. Kill a few the same way. Make 'em think a freak was after their women. Get them all together in one place to figure out what to do. And blow the place up. But this is quicker."
"They got your message."
He wasn't listening. "I was going to beat off onto the body but with that DNA fingerprinting they use now…"
"Cut it out, Wesley. You don't give a fuck about blood types, or fingerprints either. They drop you for this, you're not going to jail….You just couldn't do it."
"Couldn't do what?"
"Beat off on a dead body. I came up with you, remember? I know what you do for a living, but you're still a man."
"I'm a bomb," the monster said. "I'm tired of this place. When I check out, you'll hear the sound."
My body was rigid with the strain. He wasn't going to pull the trigger. I stepped away from him, carefully.
"Yeah, go ahead," he said. "I was going to waste you, I'd take the Chinaman first. Always take the hard man first. That's the rules."
"Look…"
"You're not a hard man, Burke. Maybe you was once, but you let things get in the way. There's a way out of this. For you, not for me. I don't care. I'm tired. I got to do Train first. I took the money. And the don. Then I'm gone."
"What's my way out? What d'you want from me?"
"You're the link. Like I knew you'd be, remember