by John Lutz
Vella looked somewhat mollified. She was still standing in the doorway, but she was smiling slyly at him. “You mean you can’t wait for Christmas, Rog?”
“I’ve never been able to. My mother used to say she’d never seen a child so eager for Christmas. If I didn’t get one present early, I’d be impossible. And I haven’t changed. Come on, let me have that big box.”
She shut the door and walked across the room. Setting her own skates down, she picked up the big box. It was red with a silver ribbon. She held it out to Roger, who beamed as he took it.
In all the excitement Nudger seemed to be forgotten. But as Roger sat down in the Breuer chair and started noisily demolishing the wrappings, he said, “What else do you want to know, Nudger?”
“Why did you hire Lawrence Fleck?”
The question gratified Dupont. He smiled at Nudger as if he were an apt student. “Hire a famous, high-priced defense lawyer, and people assume you’re guilty. You need tricks to get off. Hire Lawrence Fleck, and people feel sorry for you. They assume you’re innocent—not just of the crime you’re accused of, but of any knowledge of the world. And that was the role I wanted to play.”
Dupont opened the box. He made an astonished face. “Why, it’s a pair of Rollerblades! Exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”
Vella seemed to find this very witty. She bent down so he could kiss her. Then he began to put on the Rollerblades.
“How about a little lesson here and now, Vella? Before I go out in the park with these whizbangs.”
“Sure,” she said. She was smiling fondly down at him. She’d recovered her good humor and seemed determined to pretend Nudger wasn’t in the room.
“Anyway,” Dupont said, as he laced up a skate, “I didn’t need a smart lawyer, since I was handling the defense myself. In fact, I handled the prosecution, too. I set up each piece of evidence against myself and arranged for each one to self-destruct at the right moment. It was delicate work.”
Dupont finished tying his laces and stood up. He rolled a few feet on his skates and laughed. As he came to a stop he began to teeter. He threw out his arms to steady himself. “Whoa! This is wild, Vella. No wonder you love it so much.”
He coasted sedately over to her. She smiled and put her arm around his waist. He strapped his around her shoulders. They beamed at one another.
“Anymore questions, Nudger? I’d like to wrap this up.”
“Just one,” Nudger said. “Why’d you do it? It wasn’t just for the insurance money.”
Dupont was less prompt with an answer this time. He turned back to Vella. “I want to try my wings, darling. What’s the secret?”
“Keep your knees bent and your arms out.” Vella hovered watchfully as he trundled over the hardwood floor. He put out his hands and caught himself against the wall. Then he started back. He was grinning, having a high old time.
Nudger thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. Then Dupont straightened up and came to a stop in front of him. “I don’t know why you discount the insurance. Half a million is a lot of money.”
Nudger waited.
“The fact is,” Dupont said, “I was in love with Vella and not in love with Karen. A divorce settlement would have cost me a fortune. Karen was a large potential liability. Dead, she became an asset.”
Dupont was playing the banker from hell. His sly smile invited Nudger to express shock or outrage. Dupont would have enjoyed that.
Nudger said, “That’s not the whole story, is it?”
Dupont slowly shook his head. “No, I suppose not. In a way it was Karen’s own fault. I began to suspect she was up to something because I’d call and get the answering machine. Come home and find the house empty. And even when she was there, her attitude toward me was different. So one day I followed her, and she led me right to that cabin.”
Dupont’s face hardened with old anger. “I figured out the rest. How she and that sister of hers had robbed me to pay for the place, how she’d kept it secret from me. I didn’t know what her plan was, whether she intended to leave me, or whether she wanted to have a place to meet a lover. I didn’t really care. Because I saw the opening she was giving me. So Karen had a secret place. She liked to think she could disappear. Very well then. I’d make it permanent.”
Nudger glanced at Vella. She’d become very still and attentive. He said, “One last question.”
“I don’t know if I can allow that,” said Dupont, sparring with him. “I thought the previous one was the last.”
“Sorry. But why didn’t you destroy Karen’s cabin last summer?”
Dupont had his eyes on his feet as he rolled along. “Hmm. I told Rolf to do that. I guess he forgot. It didn’t seem urgent.”
“No. I don’t think that’s the answer.” Nudger turned to address Vella, across the room. “You believe that, Vella? Rolf always looked after you so carefully. You think he would have forgotten? That house was filled with evidence of your crime.”
Dupont caught himself against the coffee table. He straightened up and looked at Vella, and what he saw in her face worried him. “Darling, Rolf and I just didn’t think the house was important, that’s all. We didn’t think anyone would find it.”
“That’s not exactly true, is it Vella?” Nudger asked. “The house wasn’t important to Roger. He was safe, he couldn’t be tried for the same crime again. But you and Rolf weren’t safe.”
“That’s enough, Nudger,” Dupont snapped. “Time for you to leave.”
“Roger,” Vella said slowly, “if you’d thought to destroy that house, Rolf wouldn’t have died. Would he?” Her large blue eyes looked pained and confused.
“Vella, I’m sorry. I—I guess I made a mistake.” It cost Dupont something to say this. “No plan can be perfect, darling. But don’t you see, we’re safe now. Everything we dreamed about is going to be ours.”
“It was no mistake,” Nudger said.
He got up and crossed the room toward Vella. Dupont moved to cut him off. But he forgot he had the skates on. He stumbled and threw out his arms to catch himself.
Vella was paying no attention to him now. She was gazing steadily, almost fearfully, at Nudger as he drew near her.
“Roger left the house intact because he wanted someone to find it,” Nudger told her.
“Don’t listen to him!” Dupont shouted, as he struggled to stand upright.
“His plan wasn’t a complete success until someone found it out. His victory wasn’t complete. It wasn’t enough for him to kill his wife and get away with it. Lots of men do that. No, people had to know what he was getting away with, and be helpless to stop him.”
“That’s crazy, Vella! Don’t listen!” Dupont was standing upright now, but teetering.
“What do you think I’m doing here today?” Nudger said to Vella. “Why did he let me in? It’s because he had to explain it all to someone. Had to lay out every detail of his crime to me and watch me sit there, helpless. Beaten. Unable to touch him. You saw how much he enjoyed it, didn’t you, Vella? Of course your brother had to die to make it possible, but it was worth it.”
“Darling, don’t listen to him,” Roger said. “He’s just trying to make trouble between us.”
Vella’s lips were compressed so tightly they were almost white. She shifted her gaze from Nudger to Dupont. Her blue eyes had seemed clouded with puzzlement, but now they cleared. They were unblinking and hard, with pinpoints of light like the bright tinsel on the tree.
Dupont took a step and almost stumbled again. “Damn these things!” he exclaimed. “Come to me, darling. Come to me.”
He held out his arms.
Vella stood very still for a long moment. Then she began walking toward him, slowly at first, but as she drew nearer she hastened her steps. Suddenly Nudger realized she wasn’t running to Dupont. She was running at him.
She threw her arms straight out and slammed both palms into Dupont’s chest. He rolled backward across the room. He looked at Nudger with wide startled eyes,
his arms windmilling wildly. But Vella hadn’t taught him how to stop yet.
He flew over the glossy hardwood floor, through the open door, and out onto the balcony. He came to rest with his back against the railing, supporting him.
He seemed relieved only for a moment.
Vella wasn’t finished. She raced past Nudger and out onto the balcony, driving both fists into Roger’s chest. It had all happened too fast for him to react. He shot backward, his Rollerbladed feet flying into the air as he toppled over the railing.
He screamed, but not for long. It actually only took a few seconds to fall twenty stories. It wasn’t like in the movies, it was real death.
Afterward, Nudger wondered if he might have had time to grab Vella and stop it from happening.
Wondered if he’d deliberately let it happen.
He was standing under the canopy with Hammersmith when they brought Vella down. Her hands were cuffed behind her. She kept her head bowed as she walked past them. A crowd of curious tenants and passersby watched as she was put in the back of the police car. The ambulance had taken away Dupont’s remains some time ago, and traffic was flowing normally on Skinker.
Hammersmith said, “Well, Nudge, you said you were gonna give her something to think about.”
Nudger nodded. “She thought fast.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Nudger! Pick up the phone. This is Lawrence Fleck. You can’t fool me, I know you’re there. Who’d go out on Christmas morning?”
Who’d take a call from Fleck on Christmas morning? Nudger wondered. He was sitting up in bed, with a cup of coffee and an apple-cheese Danish from the St. Louis Bread Company at his elbow. He was browsing through Claudia’s copy of The Long Goodbye. She was almost out of Raymond Chandler novels and she still hadn’t found Nudger’s quote. He kept groping for it. “She had a figure that could make a lawyer kick the jury box?” No. “She had a figure that could make a doctor break a window in his examining room?” No.
Claudia was in the bathroom, and the hiss of the shower kept Nudger from hearing what Fleck was saying over the answering machine very well. Which was fine with him.
“Well, okay. Maybe you’re really not there. Reason I called is, you probably heard I’ve been asked to represent Vella Kling.”
Nudger sat upright so abruptly he almost spilled the coffee. He rose and went over to the answering machine.
“Think you’re gonna be the prosecution’s star witness, don’t you, Nudger? The guy who saw Vella push Roger out the window. And you really think a thing like that matters in a court of law? Not so! Poor dumb innocent.”
Nudger was standing by the phone listening, but he decided not to pick up. Fleck didn’t really need answers to his questions—he supplied his own. The machine was listening patiently. They were getting along fine and Nudger would only be in the way.
“So now you’re thinking about what it’ll be like to be cross-examined by Lawrence Fleck, eh, Nudger? You’re sure I’m going to destroy you. Aren’t you? Aren’t you? Well, you’re wrong! Know why? Think it’s ’cause I’m a nice guy? We’re friends, so I wouldn’t unload on you in court? Right? Wrong! Only a naive lamb would think that. You know why it is I won’t destroy you? Because I refused to take the case! I turned her down flat. Even though the fee was—”
Fleck broke off with a gulp, like a man who couldn’t bear to say the name of a loved one who had died. “Anyway, I turned her down. Want to know why, Nudger? You probably figure I’m afraid I’d lose. How wrong you are! I could get her off and the judge’d give her a ride home. Maybe you think I’m afraid the case’ll make me look like a gullible idiot. Wrong again! The reason—”
Click! The connection was broken. Nudger’s answering machine was, like everything else he owned, old, cheap, and unreliable. The tape had probably run out.
Or maybe the machine had just gotten fed up with Fleck.
“What was all that, Nudger?” Claudia called through the bathroom door.
“Fleck called to wish me a merry Christmas. Don’t give him another thought. Did I say how much I like my present?”
“Several times. I’m glad, Nudger.”
He’d felt some anxiety on the subject of Claudia’s present to him. She’d returned from Colorado glowing with the effects of high-altitude sun, exercise, and fresh air. Now she was even more of a winter sports fiend. She’d already been ice skating at Steinberg rink, and there had even been ugly rumors about early morning jogging. Nudger had shuddered to think what her gift to him might be. A pair of skates? Or running shoes with cleats, and an orange reflective vest so cars wouldn’t run him over when he was out jogging in the predawn gloom?
He had let slip some of his anxieties to Claudia, and she’d laughed. She didn’t demand that he share her enthusiasms, she said. Her gift was something he could use indoors.
Nudger feared a NordicTrack.
But when he’d opened the box this morning, he found a robe.
It was a luxuriously thick blue flannel with natty red piping. By far the nicest robe he’d ever had.
He needn’t have worried. Claudia understood him.
“Come back to bed,” he called.
“Just give me a minute,” she replied.
And a minute later she came into the bedroom wearing his gift to her that he’d bought during a courageous journey through Victoria’s Secret.
As she unwound the towel from her head and her dark hair cascaded about her shoulders, the camisole seemed to turn a deeper and richer shade of green. She assumed a contraposto pose, with her head turned and hands behind her. The fine satin flowed, clung, and puckered bewitchingly. Nudger gave a sigh of abject lust.
He said, “A bishop!”
“What?” Claudia asked, confused. Was this chess?
It took Nudger himself a second to realize why he’d blurted out the words. “The Chandler quote. It’s something about a woman built so well she might make a bishop kick in a stained glass window. Seeing you in that outfit must have jogged my memory.”
“That’s it!” Claudia exclaimed. “Or at least it’s close.” She ran her fingers along the smooth silk of the camisole and smiled at Nudger.
She was immensely pleased, which pleased him immensely.
Literary Nudger.
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