They ran down the stairs as quickly as they could and rang Alan and Laureen’s doorbell. When no one answered, Grace turned to Moira with fear in her eyes. “You don’t suppose . . .”
“Don’t be silly,” Moira interrupted. “I heard Jayne invite them to stay in her guest room.”
The third floor was Hal and Vanessa’s, the fourth floor Johnny Day’s. By the time they got to the fifth floor landing, Moira’s legs were trembling with fatigue.
“There’s no use stopping here.” Grace grabbed Moira’s arm. “We know Clayton and Rachael aren’t home. Come on, Moira. You can make it.”
“Oh, sure. That’s easy for you to say. You’re the dancer in the family. My legs will never be the same.”
“Only one floor to go.” Grace pulled her up the stairs. “Jack hooked up a battery intercom in Betty’s unit. We can call everyone from there.”
Sabotaging the elevator had worked perfectly. Naturally, some of them had been hysterical, but they’d pulled themselves together enough to carry the bodies to the freezer which was fortunately, only one floor up. He hadn’t found the earring, it must have fallen out of Alan’s pocket when he fell, but that didn’t really matter as long as it was out of the rose garden. And now they were all back in their own apartments, trying to sleep after the latest tragedy.
The Caretaker clicked through the closed-circuit channels, checking on everyone, watching Betty out of the corner of his eye. She was wide-awake, staring at the television screen, even though she’d eaten three pieces of tranquilizer-laden candy.
“Sleepy, Betty?” He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away, almost as if she knew what he’d done. It was such an unexpected reaction that he turned to look at her closely. Of course that was impossible. He must be even more tired than he’d thought. The Caretaker sighed as he took the little gold vial out of his pocket and laid out a couple of lines. This whole thing was growing much too complicated.
What would the police do when the road was cleared and they were faced with a suicide and five accidental deaths? Not even the Old Man and his big-name friends had enough juice to stop an investigation. They’d go through this place with a fine-tooth comb and some eager-beaver young cop would discover something. Given the odds, it was inevitable. Perhaps it would be better to clean out the building floor by floor since they were all sitting ducks. Then he could arrange a convenient explosion.
He forced himself to think carefully. He didn’t want to make a mistake. A gas line weakened by the avalanche was a natural, and by the time they’d finished sifting through the debris, he’d be someone else. Their plastic surgeon had plenty of practice. The whole setup was even more thorough than the federal witness program. A couple of days from now he’d be recuperating at the resort, eating lobster, and reading about the terrible accident that had killed him.
But what about Betty? He looked over to find her watching him. Unfortunate, but it couldn’t be helped. Since the Caretaker had come up with the scheme to keep Betty alive, the Old Man would never suspect he’d killed her.
He stood up to look out the window. The winds had died down and he should be able to get through tonight. He’d call the Old Man to tell him that his beloved daughter had died peacefully in her sleep, heart failure or some such thing. And how he’d busted his ass to protect the family after the soldiers had botched the job with Johnny. There was no need to fill him in on the details, he’d just say it was impossible to cover any longer, that they were too close to the truth. The Old Man would have to agree that blowing up the building was the only way out.
There were tears in Margaret Woodard’s eyes as she punctured the top of the vial and filled the syringe. She’d done her best not to get personally involved, but she hadn’t been able to harden her heart against Betty completely.
As she punctured the top of a second vial and drew back the plunger, she considered the man waiting in Betty’s room. Once she’d administered Betty’s lethal shot, he wouldn’t need her services any longer.
The Caretaker wasn’t sure what had warned him, perhaps the expression in her eyes or the way her fingers tightened around the syringe. He whirled just in time; one well-placed blow was all it took to guarantee that she would never move again.
Turning back to Betty, he found her staring at him in horror. He smiled to reassure her and patted her hand. “It’s all right, Betty, just a bad dream. Now close your eyes and I’ll make it all go away.”
Betty closed her eyes obediently as he walked over to pick up the syringe that had fallen out of the nurse’s hand. Used to her bedtime shots, she hardly seemed to feel it as he slipped the needle into her vein and depressed the plunger. “Good night, Betty. And good-bye.”
He pulled the nurse’s body into the bathroom and shut the door. Betty might open her eyes again and there was no need to upset her. When he went back into her room, her breathing was slow and even. Mission accomplished. The double dose would push Betty into unconsciousness, and soon it would be over. There was a satisfied expression on the Caretaker’s face as he went down to Jack’s apartment to retrieve his shortwave radio.
Moira reached out to flick on the light, then shook Grace’s shoulder. “Wake up, Grace. I finally figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Grace opened her eyes and groaned.
“The bodies, Grace, think about Alan and Laureen’s bodies.”
“Do I have to?” Grace mumbled, blinking groggily. Moira sounded very excited.
“Did they look as if they’d fallen only one floor?”
Grace winced. “I’m not sure. I tried not to look.”
“Well, I think they fell a lot farther than that. Besides, we live above them. How could they bang into our wall if they fell from their own floor?”
“You’re absolutely right.” Grace perked up. “I never thought of that before. What shall we do?”
Moira sighed. “I hate to even think of it, but we’d better go up to Jayne and Paul’s to see if Alan and Laureen were staying with them.”
“Wouldn’t they have mentioned it?”
“Not necessarily. We were all so stunned. And it never occurred to me to ask. Come on, Grace. Let’s go.”
“Do you really want to walk up seven flights of stairs?”
Moira shook her head wearily. “No, Grace, I don’t. But I’ll never be able to get to sleep if I don’t find out. You can stay here if you’re too tired, but I’m going.”
“Then I’ll go with you.” Grace got out of bed and grabbed her clothes. There was no arguing with Moira once she’d made up her mind.
Betty was shaking as she reached for the remote control. Her arm still hurt where he had poked it with the needle, but she’d seen most of the medicine squirt out of the syringe when he’d knocked it out of the Nurse-bird’s hand and she hadn’t made a sound. The drawing she’d made of the doll-lady’s slippers had reminded her and she’d remembered what rabbits did when they were cornered. They froze and hoped for the best. Now he was gone and she had to see if the other actors and actresses were all right.
Something was happening on forbidden channel two. The nice actresses were coming out the door. Betty hoped they wouldn’t use the elevator and she held her breath until she saw they were going through the door to the stairs. She couldn’t see them as they climbed from channel to channel, but she could catch them on the landings. She switched to forbidden channel three and waited. Yes, there they were. And now they were climbing up to channel four.
Suddenly Betty knew she should go out to the landing for channel six and stop the actresses as they passed by. It would be difficult because she wasn’t very good at walking, in fact, she’d heard Nurse tell her secret friend that she was almost as weak as a baby. Remembering that gave Betty a wonderful idea. She knelt down on the rug. Babies crawled and she could, too. At least she hadn’t forgotten how to do that.