Authors: Richard Laymon
Alarums (31 page)
Pen put a hand to his throat.
'She must've stabbed him five or six times,' Bodie said.
'I can't find a pulse.'
'I could've stopped her. I was ready to shoot her, but when she went for him instead of you… The man raped you. And he ran down your father.'
'Where's his gun?' Pen asked.
'I didn't see one.'
Leaning over the body, Pen pulled a revolver from the pocket of his jacket. 'I figured he had to have it. I don't know if this'll help much, but…' She swung the revolver toward the front of the house and fired twice.
Straddling the body, she put the gun into Harrison 's hand and slipped his forefinger through the trigger guard. She pressed his fingertip against the trigger. With the bottom edge of her sweatshirt, she wiped her prints off the rest of the gun.
'What about Joyce?' Bodie asked.
'I don't know.'
'There's no way to make that look like self-defense.'
'If we could get rid of the body…'
Bodie heard a siren, its distant alarm blaring through the night. 'Too late for anything like that,' he said.
Melanie, sprawled on the grass beside her victim, looked as if she were sleeping.
'Can you think of a story?' Bodie asked Pen.
'Nothing to cover all this. The truth, I guess. It'll have to do.'
'Except for the revolver.'
The siren swelled to a high scream.
Pen stood up.
Bodie, rising, put a hand low on her back. Together, they stepped through the open gate. Pen leaned her head against his shoulder. 'I wish we could go back in time,' she said, 'and change it all.'
'I guess Harrison and Joyce got what they had coming,' Bodie said.
'But Melanie.'
'Yeah.'
'What did we do to her?'
He put his arms around Pen and gently drew her against him. Holding her, he turned slowly until he could see the open gate beyond her head. Melanie was on her hands and knees. Her face lifted. It was a dim patch in the darkness with black pits for eyes.
Staring at us,
Bodie knew.
Hating us.
He felt a shiver climb his back.
Would she go for the shotgun?
The siren was a deafening shriek.
She went for the knife.
She tugged it out of Harrison 's chest.
Bodie tensed for the attack.
Melanie pushed the knife slowly into Harrison 's throat. Clutching it with both hands, she worked its blade back and forth. Her long black hair swayed in front of her face as she rocked above him, putting her weight into the cutting.
'What's wrong?' Pen asked.
'Nothing.' Bodie stroked her head. 'Everything's fine.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
'No funny business,' Pen said. She was in bed, naked except for her white shorts, a white bandage beneath her left breast, and a white cast on her arm. The discarded sling lay rumpled on the sheet beside her. 'I am, after all, an invalid.'
'You look valid.' Bodie cupped her breasts and gently thumbed the nipples. Pen squirmed.
'You can validate me later,' she said. 'This is serious business.'
'Of course.'
Bodie's hands went away. Pen raised her head off the pillow. With an open hand, she lifted and flattened her breast and peered over it to see what he was doing. 'Be gentle,' she warned, smiling.
Bodie picked at a corner of the tape with his fingernail. 'Difficult to concentrate,' he said, 'when beholding such a vision of loveliness.'
'Yep. No doubt.'
He pulled the tape slowly, watching the adhesive lift her skin and peel away from it.
'Owooo.'
'Maybe one quick yank.'
'Don't you dare.'
'We should really change this bandage more often than the one on your back. Such scenic surroundings.' The bandage came off, revealing a four-inch laceration cross-hatched with stitches.
'Yuck,' Pen said.
'Coming along nicely.'
'Easy for you to say. I'm the one looks like the bride of Frankenstein.'
'You look terrific. It gives you character.'
'Sure.'
Bodie unrolled a pad of cotton and gauze, snipped off a section slightly longer than the wound, and taped it into place.
'Good job.' She released her breast and lowered her head to the pillow.
Her fingers had left faint red prints on her creamy skin. Bodie watched them fade.
I'm gonna cut off your tits!
'What's wrong?' Pen asked.
'Melanie. She keeps coming back.'
'Yeah.'
'I wonder how she's doing.'
'I don't know,' Pen muttered. 'At least she probably won't have to stand trial. That would've been tough, nothing going for her except Joyce's confession.'
Bodie put a hand on Pen's belly. He lightly stroked the smooth skin. 'Do you suppose they're treating her okay?'
'It isn't the Hilton. Later on, maybe we can get her moved to a better facility.'
'At least she nailed those two.'
'I wonder if it was worth it.'
The telephone rang. 'I'll get it,' Bodie said. He patted her belly, then stood and hurried toward the kitchen. Suddenly scared. Pen had changed her number. Only the police, the people at Melanie's psychiatric ward, and the hospital had the new one. The call had to mean trouble. He picked up the phone. 'Hello?'
'Is this Penelope Conway's residence?' asked the male voice.
'Yes, it is.'
'May I speak to Miss Conway?'
'Who may I say is calling?'
'This is Dr Herman Gray of the Beverlywood Medical Center. I'm calling about Miss Conway's father.'
Bodie's stomach clenched. 'Just a moment, please.' He let the phone's handset dangle by its cord, and hurried back to the bedroom. Pen was sitting up.
When she saw Bodie, the color left her face.
'It's Dr Gray,' he said.
She clamped her lower lip between her teeth.
Bodie followed her to the kitchen. He stood behind her while she picked up the phone. He put a hand on her bare back. He stared at the bandage over her right shoulder blade.
'This is Pen Conway,' she said.
She listened.
'Oh my God,' she said, and began to cry.
***
'What the hell happened to you?'
'What the hell happened to you?' Pen retorted. Then she fell to her knees beside the bed and, weeping, kissed her father.
When her mouth left his, he said, 'Hey, you're getting me wet, babe. Turn off the fountain.'
'God, Dad.' She kissed him again.
His hand came out from beneath the sheets and stroked her hair. 'Sure is good to see you again,' he said. 'Good to see anything, for that matter.'
'How do you feel?'
'Like I was hit by a locomotive.'
'It was a car.'
'So I hear.'
Pen wiped her eyes with her left hand.
'So what's your excuse?' Whit asked, glancing at her cast.
'I fell down some stairs.'
'Klutziness must run in the family, huh?' Bodie saw a glint in the old man's eyes. 'Any negligence involved?'
'Just my own.'
'Awwww. We'd have some great personal injury suits, both of us, if only…'
'Those are the breaks,' Pen said.
'No pun intended, huh?' Then he said, 'Owooo,' an echo of Pen when Bodie had pulled the tape from her chest.
'Dad, I want you to meet Bodie.' She smiled over her shoulder at him. Tears were shimmering in her eyes.
'I thought Bodie was a town in Wyoming. You don't look much like a town.'
'Welcome back, Mr Conway.'
'You banging my daughter?'
'Dad!'
'Hell, I know you are. I can tell by the look of you. You look okay to me.'
'Thanks, sir.'
'Make it Whit.'
'Whit.'
'You drink?'
'I polished off most of the beer in your refrigerator.'
'Make sure you restock it before I come home. Recuperation is thirsty work.'
'Right.'
'Speaking of home, how come you're both here and Joyce isn't?'
'She doesn't know you came out of it,' Pen said. 'Not yet. We'll tell her as soon as we see her.'
'You do that. Tell her to get her sweet buns over here.'
'I will.'
'What about number two daughter?'
'She was here for a few days right after the accident. It looked like you might be the same for a while, so she went back to school. She has her classes…'
'Well, that's all right. I'm glad she thought enough to come over.'
'She was awfully upset, Dad.'
A smile drifted over his lips. 'That's good to hear. Melanie… we've had our share of troubles since your mother passed away.' He shook his head. 'She doesn't care much for Joyce, I'm afraid.'
'She loves you a lot.'
'Hell, I think I'll go out and pay her a visit once I'm on my feet again.'
***
Bodie held Pen's hand as they left the hospital. The morning sun was bright and warm, and he watched the way Pen's gleaming hair stirred in the breeze.
There was sorrow in her eyes.
'Are you all right?' he asked.
'I hated lying to him.'
'He doesn't need the truth. Not right now.'
She shook her head. 'It'll really knock the wind out of his sails.'
'Wait a few days.'
'That won't make it any easier.'
'I know.'
'He's in for a world of hurt.'
'When he finds out what his wife and Harrison did to him, he might not be all that upset they're dead.'
'Just a different kind of pain.'
'He wouldn't have had to go through it if he'd stayed in his coma. Better this way, isn't it?'
'Yeah.' A smile tilted her lips. She looked at Bodie. 'A lot better this way.' Her hand tightened in his. 'I'll have to stick around for a while, though. He'll need me.'
'I know.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Summer break is coming up. In the meantime, I'll come every weekend. If you want.'
'Of course I want.'
'Don't let anyone else change those bandages. They're mine.'
'Whatever you say, sir.'
'It'll be a fine summer.'
'We'll go to the beach.'
'Let's go to the beach, now,' Bodie said.
They stopped at a corner and waited for the traffic light to change.
Bodie felt a little sad. He knew he would be leaving Pen in a few days and he knew there would be some hard times ahead for both of them - pain and sorrow and loneliness.
But they were together for the moment. She was with him, a missing part of him that had been found and must never be lost.
The light changed.
The traffic stopped.
Bodie waited on the curb, holding Pen's hand, and looked both ways to be absolutely sure it was safe. Then he stepped off the curb with Pen at his side and they started across.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
At the intersection of Crescent Heights and Sunset Boulevard, Phil Danson stopped for the red traffic signal. He looked both ways. Not a car was in sight, so he gunned the Jaguar XKE and sped across Sunset.
It gave him a little rush.
A small risk, a small rush.
Keeping the gas pedal to the floor, he shifted and picked up speed. The road up Laurel Canyon was steep and twisting. He took the curves fast, grinning at the way the low car hugged the road. The quick turns pushed him from side to side. If he'd had the safety harness on, he wouldn't have felt the force so much. That's why he had it off.
Ahead of him, a traffic signal turned red. He kept his foot on the accelerator as he approached it.
Not much of a risk. It was two o'clock in the morning, after all, so what were the odds of a car swooping down from one of the sides and nailing him? Slim to none. Phil hoped for a spurt of adrenaline as he shot across the intersection against the red light. He didn't get it.
He crossed the center line.
Oh yes.
His heart quickened, his stomach knotted.
'All right,' he gasped.
This is good, this is fine.
Hands slick on the steering wheel, he sped up the downhill lane.
'Bat outa hell!'
He killed the headlights. Enough light came from the street lamps for him to see the road ahead. Almost. The pavement was a vague runway bordered by dark slopes, curving and twisting upward.
He steered around a bend one-handed as he turned on the radio. 'This is KLFC bringing you mellow sounds from midnight till dawn.'
'Shit on it.' Phil turned the knob and got Bruce Springsteen. 'The Boss!' he yelled, and twisted the volume high.
A ghost of light swept across the darkness ahead. With a whoop, Phil flicked the steering wheel. The Jaguar lurched to the right as the glare of headlights hit his eyes. A horn blasted. A Mustang flew by, very close but missing.
Phil laughed.
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