"I want the evidence you never gave to the Kennedys. I want the prints that Nick took of Hedda Hopper's files. The ones that tell the story of the Card Sharks. There were three copies, or did you give them all to Rudo and Hopper?"
The gasp Marilyn gave could not have been faked. Her skin went pale, the hands that came up to cover her face trembled. She was crying now, rocking back and forth on the cushions. "Oh God, I've been so frightened." She wept for a long time. Hannah waited, as Marilyn sobbed and on the television Jokertown burned. Hannah had come here with no sympathy for the woman at all. She'd come prepared to threaten, to blackmail, to confront Marilyn with her guilt. But Hannah now found that while she might not be able to forgive what Marilyn had done, she couldn't hate the woman at all. She was a victim too, as much as Nick. As Hannah had found with jokers, it was hard to blindly hate someone you understood.
"Ms. Monroe," Hannah said at last, softly.
Marilyn looked up, her face blotchy, her mascara now black streaks down either cheek. "Who are you? What are you after?"
"My name doesn't matter. What I'm after is the Sharks. What I'm after are the people who killed Nick and Jack and Bobby Kennedy and scores of others. I want to understand what happened."
"I was afraid," she said. "I knew Jack all too well; Bobby, too. They would have tried to do something with the information. Jack wasn't perfect, he wasn't a saint, but he wouldn't have left that kind of rot alone, and there were too many powerful people involved. They already hated Jack and Bobby both — hated their idealism and their liberal 'softness' and their courting of minorities: jokers, blacks, anyone. I was aware that they were already working against Jack's reelection. I knew there were a few who were already talking assassination and I was afraid that if Jack moved against them, that would be the last straw. I thought that by doing nothing, I might at least save him." Tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes, rolling untouched down her cheeks as she gave a short, bitter laugh. "So I said nothing. And then Jack went to Dallas …" Marilyn wiped at her tears angrily, defiantly. "You have no idea what you're facing, young lady."
"I'm facing you."
Marilyn took a sharp breath. "Me? I'm nothing," she said. "I never have been. Not to them. You want to know the truth? I hate them. I hate them more than I hate myself for never having the courage to do something about it." She sat up suddenly. "You have to go," she said. "You can't stay here."
"I'm not leaving until I have answers."
"Why?" Marilyn cried in that breathless little girl voice of hers. "What good is anything I know? Who can you go to? Who can you trust?"
"I don't know that yet. But I'll find out," Hannah answered. "I'll do something."
For several seconds, Marilyn just looked at her. "I'm not as flighty and reckless as the gossip says," she said finally. "Not really. They told me what I was to do if anyone ever confronted me. I was going to keep you here. I'd talk to you if I had to, pretend to give you what you wanted, until … Stay here a moment," Marilyn got up from the couch, moving now like an old person, and went into the bedroom of the suite, returning quickly. Hannah felt the breath go out of her when she saw what the woman held in her hands.
A bedraggled stuffed tiger.
"I kept this with me, all those years," Marilyn said. "The other sets I gave to Hedda — I had to, you understand. But these … I kept them, always thinking that one day I'd do something with them, that I'd pay them back for making me kill Nick. I must have started to do it a hundred times, even after the birthday party, but something always held me back. I was afraid of what they'd do to me, to my son. Every time I started to make the call, every time I wanted to call Jack or Bobby or anyone, I'd see Nick floating in my pool, the water going red around him and his open eyes staring at me, and I'd stop. After awhile, I didn't even try. Everyone I might have trusted seemed to be dead and I didn't know anyone else. I was so scared, don't you understand? So scared …"
She held the tiger out toward Hannah. "Here," she said. "Take it before I change my mind again. Now, please — "
Someone rapped on the door, several quick knocks. "Marilyn?"
Hannah knew the voice. Marilyn put a finger up to her lips, then pointed to the bedroom. At the same time, she seemed to draw on some inward calm, inhaling deeply and rearranging the robe around her. Her demeanor changed, seeming to be that of someone younger and more vulnerable. As Hannah clutched the tiger and moved quickly into the bedroom, Marilyn rose from the couch and went to the door. "Pan!" Hannah heard her exclaim, and then the words came all in a rush: "Oh, Pan, I was so scared. The woman called me from the lobby, saying that she knew about Nickie…."
There was a door leading to the hall from the bedroom. Hannah turned the knob as softly as she could, listening to the conversation in the other room. "Where is she? Is she still here?"
"The woman banged on the door for the longest time. I was afraid to call Security — I didn't know what she'd say or do. She finally left — I don't know, ten, fifteen minutes ago. Come in, Pan. Hold me. Stay with me. I was so frightened…."
Hannah opened the door and slipped out into the empty hall.
She thought she was away and free, but as Hannah pressed the button for the elevator and watched the doors slide open, she heard the door to Marilyn's suite open again. She caught a glimpse of Rudo as she stepped into the compartment. There was a frightening moment of eye contact down the hall, then Rudo began to run stiffly toward her as the elevator doors closed. His fists pounded futilely on the door as she started down.
He can't get another elevator before I get downstairs. I'm okay. I'll have time.
The elevator stopped at 15. It seemed to take forever for the doors to open, for the elderly couple to shuffle inside and the doors to close again. They smiled at her, a young woman. desperately clutching a stuffed toy tiger. Hannah gave them a quick, nervous smile back, then stared at the numbers:
14 …
12 …
11 …
10 …
They stopped again. And yet again at 6. Hannah was beginning to panic, hoping that Rudo would be having the same problem. He can't do anything in a crowd. Just stay with them. He doesn't want any of this out in the open.
They reached the lobby. Hannah slipped out first, looking back at the numbered plate above the other elevator. As she watched, the indicator light shifted from 3 to 2. She started across the lobby with the older couple, trying to look as if she were their daughter. Two dark-suited men were standing near the street doors, one who looked like a movie version of a Sicilian thug, the other a tall and massive black man whose suit seemed to strain to contain his sculpted body. Swallowing her panic, Hannah turned to the woman. "That's such a nice sweater," she said. "It's perfect for a chilly afternoon like this."
The woman smiled. "Thank you, my dear."
"I can't believe it's gotten so cold in the last few days. Fall's definitely here to stay this time, I think …" The men were watching the trio suspiciously. Behind them, an elevator chimed. Hannah could feel Rudo's gaze on her back but she didn't dare look behind her. A few more steps and they'd be outside….
"Ms. Davis," he called loudly to her. "Such a lovely surprise."
The Sicilian and Muscles moved to intercept her at the same moment. Her elderly escorts looked as if they were about to protest, but Hannah, an icy resignation settling in her stomach, gave them a rigid smile. "He's a friend," she said, giving them what she hoped was a convincing smile. She kept the smile cemented to her lips until the couple left the hotel; the expression vanished as she turned to confront Rudo. He was dressed elegantly and expensively, as always. His neatly-trimmed gray hair was slightly mussed; disturbed, she thought inanely, when he ran down the hallway after her. He brought a hand up and smoothed down the errant strands.