“Yes, and I always pick her up and try to go on.” He smiled bravely up at Harry, then lapsed into silence.
Weary as Harry was, simple humanity demanded that he help Bob.
“Rather than looking for Katharine, we might try to find Frank,” Harry suggested. “Not much point in hunting in bars for him. If he’s after Katharine, he won’t be there.”
Bob nodded. “Should we phone his house and office again, just in case?”
“Sure. Call Katharine, too. She may be home or back at her office.”
Frank’s line was busy. The other calls to Katharine turned up nothing.
“Let’s go to Frank’s office. If his line is busy, he’s probably there.”
Together, they headed for Procon Realty on the Danforth in Harry’s car.
In Tony’s office, Katharine glanced at her watch and then at the door to his inner office, where a soft light glowed. During her wait, she had decided to seduce him tonight.
At last Tony entered and sat beside her on the sofa. “Sorry for the interruption. Shall we have dinner?”
She put down a magazine and saw the flicker of green and yellow in his eyes. His very presence aroused her. A frisson of danger shot through her. He was the right combination of roughness and…what? Katharine could not place it. She realized she was staring at the tiny claw: two tiny, perfect digits in one. Amused, he was waiting for her.
They had dinner together in the Long Bar overlooking the city hall square. The city shimmered. Tony was at his charming best. Losing count of the times the white-coated waiter appeared with yet another drink, Katharine felt her tension ease.
The restaurant dissolved into hazy darkness as she focused only on Tony’s face. It was a rough face, not a kind one, but full of life. She struggled to remember what they were talking about. Something about the house.
“Yes, of course your client’s offer is a good one,” she heard herself say. “But my dear sister, Suzannah, is about to ruin everything for us.” The face across from her was quizzical, impelling her to continue.
“There are two wills, you know. If Suzannah gets the house under the second will, she’s going to donate it to charity—that is, if Frank doesn’t kill her first.” She reached out and touched his hand. He was impassive. “So we can’t accept an offer yet.”
Tony said quietly, “If Suzannah’s the problem, perhaps Frank will have to use a little more persuasion.”
Katharine had no reply to his words, which were so softly seductive, yet so chilling.
Tony brightened. “You have a nephew, don’t you?”
Katharine was surprised. “Yes. Why?”
“I’ve seen him once or twice with Frank. He seems like a smart kid.”
“He’s Gerry’s son.”
“The dentist?” Tony smiled.
Katharine nodded. Vaguely, she wondered at his interest in the boy.
“I’d like to talk to him. If he has any interest in the law, we have some good summer programs at the firm for bright students. How would I contact him?”
“He’s only fifteen, Tony.” Katharine was lost, unable to fathom the connection with Donnie.
McKeown shrugged and smiled. “Well, it’s never too early. I’ve seen him a couple of times, once at your aunt’s house.”
Tony’s face sharpened into focus.
Maybe he is the right one, she thought.
Her husband was frightened of her, as though she might eat him up…devour him. “Insatiable,” he had called her. Bob was so timid. He thought she was some psychological freak. Never once satisfying her, he had stopped trying.
Tony’s brooding smile floated off and dissolved into recollections of Frank’s scowling face.
Never again. Not Frank! She must have been drunk when that had happened. Frank, with his fat sausage fingers pressing on her thigh, had loomed over her, grabbing and bruising her arm and then her leg. Swollen, piggish fingers pressing and prodding. But no feeling.
Then thick hot fingers wrapping round and round her neck. Flickers of panic, building to flames of fear. Choking with rage and revulsion, Katharine had fought him off. Her voice was like a whip. It was easy with Frank. Her words, so corrosive, deflated him. Frank was a nobody.
Tony would be different. His magnetism and power were cold and cruel. He demanded and then he took. She could see it in his eyes. He was a brilliant and worthy catch.
With great precision, Tony slit the cellophane wrapper of his cigar with his claw. His eyelids flickered as he saw that she was transfixed. Briefly, he puffed on the cigar until its tip glowed.
Katharine sipped her wine. Men had always been drawn to her. There were really only two kinds. Some tried to storm down the door, demanding their due, coercing, thrusting, and cursing. Men like Frank, vicious if refused, but ultimately ineffectual. McKeown was different.
Then there were the others. The touch—slow and tentative, then increasingly frantic. As they approached the ice queen, they were chilled and their touch became furtive and then groveling. Imagining the sensation of his tiny, perfect claw, she caught her breath.
He saw her across the table, caressing her lower lip with her tongue. He knew what was on her mind. It would be easy. She was begging for it.
When the waiter had cleared the table, Tony said, “We will go to the Royal York Hotel. I’ve made a reservation.” It was not a question.
She assessed the possibility of danger. Katharine knew how to look after herself. She was not like Suzannah. She smiled slowly in agreement.
Outside Frank’s office, two police cruisers blocked off the corner of Danforth and Coxwell. Harry felt his stomach sickening as he pulled off onto a side street and parked. As he and Bob approached the corner on foot, the rotating light of an ambulance swept through the crowd. Harry knew at once that the police were in Frank’s office.
With Bob behind him, he pushed his way through the crowd. An officer was questioning a witness: a small woman, wearing an old-fashioned pillbox hat, tugging on the constable’s sleeve.
“He was just a young kid, and he kinda limped along the sidewalk over there. Then I saw him get into a cab. Just a kid, you know.”
“Where’d he come from, ma’am?” asked the officer.
“Like I told you. I seen him jump from that fire escape round at the back. Then he come limping out to the street.”
“So he came out of that window around at the back.”
“Well…I think so.”
“Were you at the back too?”
“Well…no.”
The officer took down the woman’s name and phone number, then snapped his notebook shut.
Harry pressed further into the crowd. Words swirled around him. “Guy up in that office’s been murdered. Real messy. They slit his throat.”
“Who was it?” Harry asked the man beside him.
“Cops said it was the mob that killed him. A realtor named Sasso.”
Harry dropped back into the crowd and found Bob. He tugged his sleeve.
“Listen. I think Frank’s just been murdered.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
Harry had no desire for more dealings with the police. “Let’s get going. Obviously, Frank’s not after anyone tonight.”
They drove slowly back along the Bloor Street viaduct. Harry squinted in the flash of lights from oncoming cars. If Frank were dead, did that mean Katharine was safe?
Bob slumped in his seat, radiating hopelessness. It would be easy just to call it a night and drive him back to his car. Then he could get into a hot shower. He knew at once that he could not bear the emptiness of his own house. Loneliness nearly overtook him.
He had to do something. Suddenly he said, “Bob, I’m going to call McKeown back.” He did not know why.
Reaching for his cell phone, he dialled McKeown’s office. After ten rings, a woman answered the phone.
“Mr. McKeown’s office.”
“Is Tony in, please?”
“No, he’s left for the day.”
“Really? Is there anywhere I can reach him? I’m a solicitor, Harold Jenkins. It’s urgent I speak with him.”
“I don’t know where he is, Mr. Jenkins.” The woman sounded bored and vaguely annoyed. “He left about an hour ago for dinner with a client.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“What did she look like?”
After a long pause she said, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you any further. Good night.”
Harry stared at the phone. Obviously, it could be anyone. But the secretary had indicated that it was a female client.
***
Katharine and Tony checked into the Royal York Hotel. Together they strolled along the red-carpeted corridor to the elevator. Violin music floated out from a far-off dining room. His pleasure was beginning to build. How trusting she was, coming with him. He pushed the elevator button and then stood back. Her skin was as smooth and white as porcelain china, but soft.
Not until the elevator door shut and they were alone did she wonder when he had arranged a room. She liked the self-assurance and command. Facing the front of the elevator, both of them watched the progression of the lighted floor numbers in silence.
When the elevator stopped at the ninth floor, they stepped into the corridor. Tony drew the key from his pocket. He wondered if she would struggle. Thrashing and writhing definitely increased his pleasure. In a caress, he drew her lustrous black hair gently back to expose her neck. He took the key and opened the door, standing back for her to enter.
He knew her weakness. He would circle endlessly, prolonging his pleasure. At a moment of his own choosing, he would swoop down and place his mark. It was odd how few things in life were truly permanent.
Katharine stepped through the doorway.
The room was ready; the bed covers were turned down. A bottle of champagne rested in ice on the coffee table.
With great deliberation, Tony drove the deadbolt into place, then he carefully chained the door.
“Don’t worry,” Katharine laughed, “I won’t try to escape.”
Pocketing the keys, he said, “You don’t know, Mrs. Rowe. You may want to.” His voice was flat and his face was stony, but he smiled as he set his case on the bed and snapped it open. He said softly, “In fact, you may beg me to let you go.”
Like a careful artist, he had brought only his finest instruments.
Gently drawing her to him, he touched her face, then traced her lips with the claw. Circling her ear, he trailed the double finger down to her shoulder and breast.
For Katharine it was an odd sensation, and it made her body quiver. She reached up around his neck and drew him down to kiss him. His lips were hard and taut.
He held her out at arm’s length.”Are you repulsed by this little finger?” He held it up to her within an inch of her nose. “I will wear a glove if you wish.”
“No,” she lied. “Don’t.”
“Good.” He fixed her with his gaze and slowly began unbuttoning the top button of her blouse with his claw, then, more rapidly, the second and third buttons.
“Silk! How soft and lovely. Just like your skin,” he whispered as he buried his face in her breast. Through her blouse, he grasped her nipple, now erect.
She winced. Tony would be very rough, but pain was her only chance to feel some pleasure.
He pushed her away. She wondered what she had done.
“Take off all your clothes, Mrs. Rowe. Then lie on the bed.” His voice was hollow, distant, and commanding.
Katharine laughed uncertainly. She was used to more preliminaries: the kissing, the fondling, at least the pretence of seduction. But the prospect of making herself utterly naked and open to him was the ultimate arousal. The furtive groveling of legions of men in darkness had never stirred her. Perhaps he was like her senior cabinet minister.
“Yes, sir!” She sought to make it a game—maybe a striptease.
Tony stood stiffly apart from her. He caressed his claw with his thumb. He could read her mind; he was tearing away at its layers. Soon she would be raw and exposed to him.
In her best provocative manner, Katharine slowly opened the last buttons of her blouse to reveal a filmy pink lace brassiere. Slowly, she shrugged one arm and then the other from each sleeve, letting the blouse float to the floor. He did not move. She was hoping at least for a smile, at least.
Arching her back, she undid one hook and then the other, letting the bra slide slowly down. Exposing first one nipple and then the other for him, she paused to judge his reaction. His eyes bore into her, commanding her to continue.
Beyond him, she could see herself in the full-length mirror. Not bad, she thought. Her breasts were full, but not too heavy. She paused to catch herself at just the right angle. Engrossed in her own image, she did not see the disgust growing on his face.
Pleased with her appraisal, she casually tossed the pink lace brassiere for him to catch. He did not stir. The brassiere lay dangling over the edge of the bed, untouched.
Heedlessly, she slid from her skirt. Her smile was seductive as she tossed her head, letting her hair fall onto her shoulders and back. What was he thinking? Surely by now she should have aroused him.
The bitch was strutting, but not for him…for herself. Already, he imagined her pleading. Good. It would only drive him to new heights. Mrs. Rowe had no idea.
Again she turned to catch her image in the mirror. Her legs had always been good, she thought.
She could have slid the lace panties off at that moment; it would have been the natural climax to the show. Later, she wondered why she had not. Instinct would be the only answer. Instead, she approached him on the bed, her arms folded across her breasts.
Tony’s excitement grew as he reached into his briefcase. Her body was sleek, but the flesh of women her age would begin to buckle and sag in a few years, becoming not nearly so enticing.
Instinctively, she had wrapped her arms around herself. Good. She was sensing danger. Terror always took his breath away.
With a bold smile on her lips, she reached out for him. He moved away to study her. At last he spoke coldly. “Lie on the bed.”
Katharine was stunned—her vanity required some appreciation. But she obeyed. She crouched to retrieve her clothing. His dark form rose swiftly in the mirror. He circled behind her, fully dressed in his dark suit.
By the line of her shoulder, he knew she was beginning to sense danger. He stood over her, crowding her.
She looked up at him, a question forming on her lips. When had he put on the gloves? Weren’t they the clear, latex kind?
“Before I touch you,” McKeown spoke in an imperious tone, “I must examine you.”
Katharine froze. She had heard those words before. Frowning in confusion, she tried to rise, but he clutched her shoulder.
Confusion spread across her face. Her lips contorted in fear. He saw the very first delicious dawning of terror. Driven closer to ecstasy, he saw her mouthing strangled words. Soon she would plead with him.
He pushed her shoulder roughly downward. The texture of the gloves strengthened his grip.
Her thigh muscles quivered as she struggled to rise. In dawning horror, she remembered the girl in the washroom. The girl had been crying, “He said he was going to examine me, and then he hit me!”
A glimmering silver knife was in his hand.
Dear God! Tony is the Florist. She tried to struggle away across the floor.
Tony pulled her straight up by the hair. With the gloves, his grip was hard and sure. Momentarily, her strength and will to resist deserted her.
Clutching her arm, he held her out from him like vermin. “You will submit!” Then he flung her like a rag doll onto the bed.
Panic consumed her. Blindly, she raised her arms to ward him off, but it was no use. He bore down on her sprawled, defenseless body. Vainly, she fought to rise.
Instantly, he was on top. The naked hatred in his eyes filled her with terror.
She had no voice. “No, stop!” It was no more than a strangled whisper. The gloved hand clapped over her mouth. She could not breathe or cry out.
He was driven to prolong his ecstasy. Although she was strong, her legs were beginning to twitch and flail beneath him. Pleasure surged throughout him. Lambs to the slaughter. He gagged her mouth. At last he saw the pleading in her eyes.
Even with the gag, Katharine could breathe well enough. Desperate energy surged through her. Twisting one leg free, she pushed hard against him.
Surprised, he teetered on the edge of the bed. A little fight added excitement.
Swiftly swinging up her other leg, she caught him hard in the stomach. For a moment, he could not breathe. He slumped forward. Wrestling her left arm free, she clawed at his eyes with her nails.
He saw her left hand fluttering upward like a small bird. The nails were blood-red. He clutched her wrist, drawing it down sharply, while his other hand seized her throat. At the very moment of his own choosing, he could crush her. She crumpled underneath him.
Katharine saw only the red, swollen features of his face. The room was disappearing into blackness. He was too strong.
Thick twine was knotted around her neck. Rope cut and burned her ankles as she fought to breathe. He wrenched her over onto her stomach. Gasping for air, she twisted her neck on the pillow.
Slipping from consciousness, she had only one thought: She had only ever wanted someone to trust enough to love.
He bound her arms tightly in place and fitted a rope around her ankles.
She was falling into darkness.
Astride her, McKeown held the knife high. He would carve his finest design for her. He stopped to admire the skin, so soft and white, laid bare for him. Such purity. He hummed a gentle lullaby and stroked her neck to calm her. To undertake such delicate artistry, she had to be quiet. Soon she would be ready.
The nape of her neck lay exposed for him, the fine hairs damp. Carefully, he turned her head to expose the cheek. He cocked his head to one side, like an artist considering his next brushstroke. With a small knife, sharp and precise as a scalpel, Tony carved a perfect petal on her cheek.
His features choked with ecstasy as he regarded his creation. But he had to go further. The artist must rise to the challenge. With great concentration, he visualized the flowing lines of Matisse. Then he drew long and graceful lines down her neck and shoulder.
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