by David Wiltse
Karen had seen the storms of self-chastisement and selfloathing come upon him before and she saw one brewing now, but she knew that it would blow over like the others. In time he would accept himself for what he was, a compromise between his will and his tortured heritage, and if he would not exactly make peace with himself, he would at least subside once more into a wary truce that would allow him to function in Karen's world again.
He had been acting strange for several days, although Karen could not pinpoint the exact time or incident when the change began. It always came upon him at some time in the course of a case as he began to delve deeper within himself to find the traces of his quarry there, and Karen had discovered that her best course of action was simply to give him room and to take none of his behavior personally. It would never have occurred to her that the coolness of his gaze and his prolonged silences were occasioned this time by a churning sense of doubt and suspicion aimed at her.
Becker awoke to the cawing of crows and lay on his back, his eyes wide as if he were startled to find himself in his own bed. The crows were congregated in his backyard and he could see half a dozen of them hanging am ong the tree branches like black rags scattered by the wind.
They screamed at each other, although whether it was to summon or to warn others away Becker could not tell, for more and more of them arrived, taking their places with a final flap of pinions, then folding their wings around themselves and setting forth a new cry like a crowd of paid mourners.
Becker lay still, watching them through his window, struggling to recall the name given to a gathering of crows. it was a gaggle of geese, an exaltation of skylarks-and a murder of crows. He was besieged by a murder of birds. How appropriate, he thought. How thoroughly in keeping with his mood.
Becker walked through the empty house-Karen was at Work, Jack at Summer camp-looking out of different windows, seeking a perspective that would explain the presence of the crows. It was probably not some canion, he reasoned, no fallen cat or dog or deer, or the crows would be on the ground, surrounding it, not perched in the trees and cawing.- He searched through the woods at the back of his lot, looking for the motions of some trapped or dying animal, some future feast not quite yet attackable, but saw nothing alive. Even the omnipresent squirrels seemed to have been frightened away by the growing shroud of black in the trees. He knew they would attack another bird's nest if they could, snatching the hatchlings in their huge beaks, but not in such numbers.
Nest robbing was solitary work. If they were going to mate, they were very slow in getting to it.
The din of crowing continued, loud, abrasive, querulous, as Becker knelt to peer at them from the living room window and then moved on into the office he shared with Karen. As he crouched down to the level of the desk surface and tilted his head to one side to spy the treetops, his eye wa s dead level with the Rolodex. Becker straightened slowly, still staring at the index cards, his body as tense as if he had felt the presence of another person in the room. Unless one gave the Rolodex a spin, it stayed open to the last listing someone had looked at. It was open now to Stanley Kom, and Becker knew that he had not opened it there.
The crows forgotten, Becker stood glaring at the entry, feeling a surge of adrenaline course through him. It was not anger, it was fear. If I lose Karen, Becker thoughtand then could think no farther, could not allow himself to think farther. The prospect was more than he could bear. He picked up the phone and jabbed at the number on Kom's card. "We have to talk," he said.
"Hello, Mr. Becker," said Tovah, sounding amused. "I wondered when you would call."
"Is he at work?"
"Yes. Or so he said." There was a slight pause, just long enough for both of them to be aware of it. "Is she?"
I 'Yes."
For a moment Becker feared that Tovah would ask if he was sure; he was grateful when she did not.
"Why don't you come over here?" she said.
"When?"
"When would you like to?"
"Now," he said.
"Give me half an hour," she said. "This is a little early in my day."
As he dressed, Becker remembered the crows. If they came to feast, their prey would have to be very large to support such a hopeful number.
He wondered bitterly if the trapped and wounded beast they waited for was himself.
Tovah chose green for the meeting and Becker could see why she had needed the half hour of lead time. Her eyeshadow matched her fingernails and even her lipstick had the hue of fresh grass. The effect on her skin of so much surrounding green was to give it the faintly sickly look of skim milk.
"You're early," she said, smirking. "Does this mean you're eager to see me?"
"You're ready," Becker said sourly. "Does that mean you couldn't wait?"
"You're not in a very good mood this morning, Mr. Becker. You've lost that light touch that makes you so much fun."
"I figure you're fun enough for both of us."
"I can be," she said, walking toward the tennis court.
She did not bother to look back to see if Becker followed her. "At least some people tell me I can be fun. Not to Stanley, apparently, but to some."
"Were you planning to play a set or two, or are we going to talk?"
Becker asked, as she slouched into a chair beside the court. She positioned both legs in front of her in a vertical — circumflex, a pose he had only seen on models and actresses.
"The housekeeper is in the house," she said. "I didn't think we wanted to be overheard."
"This way she gets the thrill of watching us through the window and using her imagination. What do you know about Karen and your husband?"
"Well, that's direct. No more chitchat…" She leaned back in the chair, stretching her legs in front of her with the indolence of a man.
Becker knew she was aware that her legs were an impressive feature; he also knew that she was aware that he was aware. "So how much do you know about them?"
"I don't know anything. I'm not even certain that there is anything to know."
"Oh, you know," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?"
"Probably not."
She smiled at him, seemingly unfazed by his lack of interest in her.
"No, you wouldn't be here just for me. I'm not good company," she said.
Her pause demanded a rebuttal.
"You're fine," Becker said impatiently. "How gallant."
"Tovah… Tovah, please tell me anything you know about your husband and my wife…"
"Do I detect an 'or' at the end of that sentence?"
"Or I'll have to kill Stanley without just cause."
"Promise?"
"Do I have good reason?"
"Why is it that they always want to kill Stanley and so seldom offer to murder their wives?"
"I love my wife."
"I know that. The funny thing is, I love my husband." Becker sat still, trying to control his impatience with his breathing.
"Shall I begin with Stanley first?" she asked.
"All right."
"I hope you've got plenty of time," she said.
19
Tee awoke to Marge shaking his shoulder.
"That thing is going off," she said. "You said to wake you. "
In the darkness of the bedroom, a tiny red light flashed on and off frantically, accompanied by an unrelenting beeping noise emitted by the receiver that sat atop the television set.
"Shit oh dear," said Tee, dragging himself fully awake. "How long has it been going?"
"Maybe a minute."
Tee was already out of bed, pulling on his clothes.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I did," Marge said.
"You said it had been going for a minute."
"I had to wake up myself, first. Do you have to go out in the middle of the night like this?"
"Do you think I'm doing it for fun?"
Marge looked at him in a way he had not seen for many years.
"Tee, you'
re not meeting someone, are you?"
"Becker and maybe Mr. Appleseed."
"I mean you're not seeing anyone, are you?"
Tee bent over to lace his shoes, keeping his eyes away from her.
"Christ's sake, Marge."
"Are you?"
"Like this? Half awake? I'm chasing a car."
"I don't mean right this second."
"I'm too old for that shit," he said, starting for the door. He paused for a second, trying to soften his response, and touched her foot, which was out from under the covers. "Why would I see anyone else when I've got you? I'd have to be crazy. "
She pulled the sheet over her head to hide the pain on her face. "Can you turn that thing off, at least?"
Tee grabbed the receiver and started out the door, still tugging at his clothing. In the car, he called Becker.
Becker had slept poorly, wrestling with the effects of the venom that Tovah had put in his ear. He did not believe it. He would not believe it until he had proof, he told himself, although he knew that if he was thinking of proof he had already given the idea too much credence. Karen had not mentioned seeing Kom. At one point he had thought she was going to, but ultimately she had not. He had given her an opportunity. When he spoke of seeing Tovah, she could, would, naturally have said she had been with Tovah's husband. If she had been. He did not know with certainty that she was. He did not even know that the car he saw driving away was coming from his house. His was not the only house on the road. Nor was Kom the only one who could have been in the car.
He told himself to stop tormenting himself, he had no grounds for suspicion beyond the word of a very peculiar, bitter woman. And that was no grounds at all, he told himself. Nothing. And yet the thought of Karen with another man filled him with such a plunging despair that he could think of nothing else.
Tee's call had come as a relief. He hurried from the torturous bed and into the night, seeking surcease from thought in action.
Tee saw the taillights in the distance and instantly slowed his own car.
He did not want to overtake the beige Chevy Caprice by himself, wanted nothing to do with a one-onone confrontation with a serial killer. That was the sort of thing that required a team of men. Or just Becker perhaps, if the stories were true. But then if the stories were true, Becker would not confront Johnny Appleseed, he would swoop down upon him like a hawk or fall upon him like a leopard from a tree, tearing and ripping and leaving nothing behind but a shower of blood and a few shredded scraps for the crows. If the stories were true, Becker would materialize in front of Johnny like Dracula, spread his cape and bite his neck, then change his shape and vanish into the night as a bat or a spider. If the stories were true. But if the stories were true, Becker would already have found Johnny, he would have sniffed him out like a wolf, sensed his presence by his body heat like a pit viper, tracked him through the woods like Daniel Boone, whistled him out of hiding like the Pied Piper, spied him with his X-ray vision.
He didn't believe the stories, of course, even those that dealt with some version of possibility. He knew Becker was a damned good agent, but not superhuman. Still, he wished he'd hurry up and join in the chase.
The taillights in front of him brightened temporarily as the car braked before a turn, then vanished around a curve. Newtown Road lay ahead, one of the few long, straight roads in Clamden. Tee slowed so that he would not be too obvious in his pursuit. He rounded the bend, saw a motion in the corner of his eye take on shape as the shadows coalesced and leapt in front of his headlights. A buck deer arched in flight in front of him, head twisted toward Tee, the animal's eyes wide with astonishment, its movement seemingly suspended in midair. Tee braked instinctively, knowing it was already too late. The car swerved to the right and jumped from the road just as it made impact with the buck. Incredibly, insensible to the fate of their comrade, more deer leapt onto the asphalt and passed to the woods on the other side, their frightened eyes flashing at Tee as they bounded past.
Becker came upon Tee sitting on the side of the road within a few feet of the buck, which was still alive even though its hindquarters were smashed. The animal was holding itself off the pavement with its front legs, as if too proud to lie down in the company of humans. Its eyes were extraordinarily wide and luminous as it watched Becker approach.
The deer seemed so calm that it was almost possible to mistake the scene for one of a man and his dog sitting patiently beside the road. It was only as he drew closer that Becker saw the pool of blood in which the deer sat, the surface trembling slightly as more liquid seeped into it from the animal's body.
"Are you all right?" Becker asked of Tee. His friend had not moved since Becker arrived other than an initial glance in his direction to identify him. He sat now with his head slumped on his chest, his hands hugging his legs.
"Tee?"
Tee slowly lifted his head and looked at Becker. His face was wet with tears and his eyes were as moist and luminous as the deer's in the beam of the police car's one remaining headlight. Becker looked away in embarrassment.
"I have to leave her," Tee said in tortured tones. "I can't keep this up. I have to leave her."
Captain Luv had seen the deer waiting by the road when he made the turn, the tawny body poised to leap. At first he had thought it was a large dog, but the grace of the beast, even while standing immobile, had revealed the truth. Luv saw them frequently on his nocturnal sojourns and wondered often why their carcasses did not line the roadside as regularly as the raccoons whose numbers seemed to be decimated nightly.
Their suicidal leaps into the path of oncoming cars appeared totally random. He wanted to yell at the buck to get back, you're too close. He knew there was a car behind him-he was always aware of any other autos on the road when he was out at night-and if the deer jumped now, he would be right in the way of the oncoming car.
When he saw the abrupt swerve of the headlights in his Miffor Luv knew exactly what had happened and that he should go back. At this time of night anyone who was injured might be undiscovered for an hour or more.
He could not let them suffer. It was his duty to at least see if anyone was injured, he could always call the police if necessary. Denise would have to wait.
He could no longer see the headlight in his mirror when he finally found a place to turn around. As Luv approached the accident he saw that another car had arrived, which took him off the hook entirely. The injured were someone else's responsibility now, he could turn again and be on his way. He slowed as he got close and suddenly realized that the car off the road was a police car. In a panicked flash he recognized Tee and Becker beside the stricken deer, both of them looking at him.
Instinctively he turned his face away, trying to shield himself with his shoulder as he sped up. He turned the corner and they were gone from his sight, but Luv's mind was racing. Tee and Becker, in two cars, behind him in the middle of the night, on the same road, going the same way he was. It could not be coincidence. They were following him, which meant that they knew about the car, somehow. What else did they know?
It couldn't be his identity or they would have had him already. They were following him to see who he was, what he would do, which meant they were still in doubt. Which meant he was still all right. If he could evade them now. Watching his mirror, he made a turn, and then another as soon as he could, and turned off his headlights so that he was driving by his parking lights alone.
He had to get out, he had to get away. It was the Caprice they were after, not him. The car was clean of prints except for the ones he had put on the door handle, the steering wheel, and the gearshift this evening. He was scrupulous about that, he had wiped it down thoroughly after the disposal of Inge. Luv took a pair of rubber gloves and a chamois rag from the glove compartment. Glancing again in his mirror, he pulled on the gloves and wiped the glove compartment, the wheel, the gearshift, the door handle. He thought for a moment, then wiped the light switch and all of the dashboard around it. A dog had begun to bar
k inside the house where he had parked. He thought things through once more, ignoring the pressure to run. This is when you're good, he told himself. This is when you're smart and calm. He went through his motions since getting into the car, then, satisfied at the completeness of his memory, he closed the door gently and left the car. He could see headlights turning down the road as he stepped into the woods. He grinned, knowing he had won again. They could have the car, he could always get another, it was an easy thing to do. But they couldn't catch him, they would never catch Cap'n Luv. Run, run, as fast as you can, you'll never catch me, I'm the gingerbread man, he thought to himself as he slipped into the comforting shelter of the trees.
As he glanced back he saw the headlights of his pursuer stop behind the driveway where he had left the Caprice. That would be Becker, Luv thought. He was quicker than Tee, smarter, far more dangerous. Which was fine with Luv. It was appropriate that he should be chased by the most dangerous, because he, Luv, was the most dangerous of all. Because he was the smartest. Because he was the best. I'm not afraid of Becker, he thought. But if he's as smart as he's supposed to be, he should be afraid of me. I can get to him in ways he never imagined.
The dog was going crazy now, barking and yapping as if Luv were in the house itself. That was excellent, it would make it impossible for Becker to hear whatever noise Luv made while moving through the woods.