Murder at the Movies (19 page)

N
eil Heavenly was found on a front lawn across the street from the Incline's base. He had been catapulted from the open coach when it smashed into, and then through, the concrete barrier. His angry scowl had not relaxed in death. Except for the unusual angle of his neck, he looked remarkably unscathed. General Sherman's dress coat and 1853 cavalry sword were damaged but salvageable, much to the relief of Basil Horsborough. The cocked hat had perished in the flames.

“You mean,” Addie asked, “that all these murders were really meaningless except for the last one?”

“That's right.” Tretheway pushed himself forward in his soft chair and reached for a cigar.

“Only from the murderer's point of view,” Wan Ho said.

Tretheway nodded. “Of course.”

“Certainly not the victims,” Jake said.

Tretheway nodded again. “Neil Heavenly decided to kill Miles Terminus. For reasons we'll go into shortly.” He acknowledged Terminus who stood, one elbow on the mantle, sipping his tea. Five was just about capacity for the small parlour, not counting Fred.

Little information had been offered to the press. Rumours abounded. Miles Terminus had been sedated and under Doc Nooner's care for two days immediately after his ordeal, then carefully questioned by different people at different times. Tretheway's theories had proven true. A complete explanation was to appear in the
FY Expositor
starting Friday. Tonight was Thursday.

“What Neil Heavenly hoped,” Tretheway continued, “was that everyone would think the burning of Terminus, or Atlanta, was just another in a series of unsolved movie murders. Inspired by
Gone with the Wind
. Which it wasn't. It was a cold-blooded, planned, revengeful act.”

“Revenge for what?” Addie asked.

Tretheway held out his familiar traffic palm. “Patience. In the first movies, from
Flying Deuces
right through to
The Tower of London,
the murders were after the fact. Arbitrary choices. A big game.
Gone with the Wind
was a different story. Heavenly knew, hell everyone knew from the publicity, about Rhett Butler, Scarlett O'Hara, Ashley and especially the burning of Atlanta. Formerly Terminus. He planned backwards from
Gone with the Wind
. The only movie with a motive.”

Everyone waited while Tretheway lit his cigar.

“Motive,” he resumed. “Miles had better tell you about that.” Tretheway looked at Terminus. “You feel up to it?”

Terminus was absently stroking the velvety folds of the dog's neck with his shoe. He stopped. “I think so.” He took a deep breath.

“Neil Heavenly came to my apartment Saturday night. Late. Said he wanted to talk. He had this large duffel bag with him. He set it on the floor and pulled it open. Then started to talk about his childhood. About fond memories of his father. How he and his sister used to go for walks with his dad. How close they were. And all the time taking things out of his bag. The Union Army coat. The cocked hat. The sword and scabbard. I didn't know what to make of it.”

Terminus walked across the room and gazed out the front window.

“Go on, Miles,” Tretheway encouraged.

Terminus turned back to the parlour. “I asked Neil what this was all about. He said I'd find out soon enough. Then he put that damned army coat on. Never stopped talking. Now, about how his childhood had changed when his father died. Or was killed. His mood changed then. Became nasty. He told me how he and his sister had gone to an orphanage. Then foster homes. Eventually running away. And he kept dressing. Buttoning up the coat. Adjusting the cocked hat. Buckling up the sword. Then he dropped the bomb.”

Terminus stared over the heads of his audience. He crossed the room once more and put his cup and saucer on the mantle.

“Would you like some more tea, Miles?” Addie asked.

Terminus shook his head.

Tretheway spoke softly. “What did he say, Miles?”

“He said he had to change his name. Asked me if I knew the Italian word for heaven. Paradiso. He said his father was Vincent Paradiso. The man that night a long time ago, when I… you know …”

“When you shot him,” Tretheway finished.

“In the line of duty,” Jake said.

“A policeman's lot, Miles,” Wan Ho said.

“What became of the girl?” Addie tried to change the subject. “His sister?”

“She died at eighteen,” Terminus said. “Pneumonia. In his arms apparently. Somehow he blamed me for that too.”

“What happened then?” Tretheway persisted.

“He admitted to everything. The tricks, the pranks, the murders. Quite proud of them. From the time he stumbled across your bowler to his discovery of the Clarences' wine casks. To the point of bragging. And he told me about the finale. The burning of Atlanta. Terminus. Me. That's when I went after him. But he was expecting it. He was too quick. That damn sword.” He patted the still sensitive welt on the side of his head. “Knocked me out.”

“That's when he tied you up,” Tretheway said. “And got you down to the truck.”

Terminus nodded. “He wasn't that big, but strong. I vaguely remember the bumpy ride in the back of his truck. Under a tarp. Strong smell of gasoline. Then being hauled out. Dragged up the tracks. Every time he thought I was coming to, he whacked me with that sword. He enjoyed it too. First thing I remember half clearly is you two trying to untie me.”

“Heavenly must've been hiding somewhere at the bottom when we arrived,” Jake said.

Tretheway nodded. “Probably interrupted his gasoline-on-the-tracks trick.”

“Must've surprised the hell out of him,” Wan Ho said.

“And when we reached Miles,” Jake said, “Heavenly lit the fire. Then took off.”

“To the top,” Tretheway said. “Where the coaches were.”

“Tell me,” Addie asked. “How can one small man move a heavy railway car?”

“Leverage,” Tretheway answered.

“Pardon?” Addie asked.

“Take the wheel chocks away,” Tretheway explained. “Then inch it along with a large crowbar.”

“Easier than you think, Addie,” Jake said.

“And we found a crowbar at the scene,” Wan Ho said.

“Did he plan that?” Addie asked.

“I don't think so,” Tretheway said. “It was out of desperation. He saw us trying to free Miles. That would ruin his whole plan. I think he went over the edge then.”

“In more ways than one,” Wan Ho said.

“He certainly underestimated the speed of the car,” Jake said.

Tretheway and Jake looked at each other. They shared a remembered moment of Neil Heavenly's remarkable charge into the inferno.

“Well, it's all over now,” Addie said. She smiled at Terminus. “I'm sure tomorrow will bring better things.”

Tretheway settled back in his easy chair. He opened the
FY Expositor
. The date on the paper was the last day of the month. Tomorrow was September 1, 1939.