He sipped his wine, not catching the dark look that passed across her face.
Mallory was staring at the pillow on the unwrinkled side of the bed. „You forgot the mint.“
He turned to see the gold foil resting on a pristine pillowcase. Did this sadden him? Yes.
„Time to give it up,“ said Mallory. „She’s gone, isn’t she?“
He shook his head as he stared at the pillow.
Mallory pressed this one small advantage. „Oh, you know who she was. And you still have a lot of the stories. But it’s getting harder to see her, isn’t it? What will you lose tomorrow? If you kill Nick Prado, I’ll put you away. And after a while, you won’t even remember why I did that to you.“
He disappointed her with a slow smile. „Would that take all the fun out of it, Mallory?“
„Yes. I’d rather nail Prado for Oliver’s murder. What do you suppose he did with Franny Futura?“
„No idea.“ He leaned back to rest against the headboard.
Mallory swirled the wine, then set the glass on the bedside table. „You know he has to kill Futura.“ She looked at Malakhai, hoping to impress him with her contempt. „Prado needs somebody to take the fall when the body turns up. You’re the perfect patsy – certifiably insane. Your home address is a hospital.“
Malakhai swallowed the last of his wine and lifted one shoulder to say, Yes, so? He turned to the window of city lights and the glowing streams of midnight traffic. „I really have no idea where Franny is. I wouldn’t lie to you.“
„But you won’t help me either.“
Mallory was planning to punish him with another blow to the Louisa illusion, but now she noticed that the hotel mint was gone, and his wife’s pillow bore the deep impression of a human head. A shadow was crawling along the wall at the corner of her field of vision, but she wouldn’t give Malakhai the satisfaction of staring at it.
Done with distractions, she wondered if she could bludgeon him with something else and hit him in another soft spot.
The shadow was closer, larger, massing upward as if to strike her. Before Mallory could stop the reflex action, her hand hovered in the air, moving toward the open suitcase and her revolver. „Was Max Candle a war lover like Prado?“ Passing over the suitcase, she reached for the glass instead of her gun.
Malakhai took this as a request for a refill and leaned across the bed to pour out more burgundy. „No, Max never loved the war.“ He topped off her glass. „The killing sickened him.“
„You told me the war was sublime.“
„The sublime can be wonderful or horrible, but it’s always an exalted thing. For Max, the war was a chance to find out what he was made of. He acquitted himself heroically, and he kept his medals locked in a drawer.“
She sipped the wine, tasting it this time. „What about Oliver?“
„He was shipped back to the States for basic training, and the army kept him there. They made him a supply clerk. Poor Oliver. He wanted action, but it never came his way.“ Malakhai cradled the bottle in his arm „Every one of us went off to a different war. Nick did fall in love with it, but Emile saw it as a simple matter of honor and duty. And it was all Franny could do just to survive it.“
„And you?“
„I thought I’d killed my wife. That was the biggest event of my life. Nothing could surpass it. The war was simply going on around me.“
„But after the war, when you saw Emile, he told you what really happened to Louisa.“
The water glass on the night table had lipstick on it now. When had he done that? The ashtray held a smoking cigarette with the imprint of ruby lips.
„A very stylish interrogation, Mallory.“ He sipped his wine and sighed. „So this is police brutality. I can’t imagine why anyone complains. But you don’t know – “
„I know everything. Louisa had no idea what the rest of you were plotting. Her plan was to make a run for the border after the show was over.“
„How did – “
„Louisa thought she was going to do the act the way she did it every night. When you drew blood, she wasn’t faking the shock.“
„No, she never expected me to hurt her – not ever.“
„Prado’s idea, right? She thought Max Candle was going to do the routine with a wire and a ribbon, not a real arrow. It was Max’s act, but he couldn’t go through with Prado’s plan.“
„Max couldn’t stand the idea of hurting her. He loved Louisa.“
Not as much as you did.
„There was no way out of France,“ said Mallory. „And Louisa couldn’t stay. The Germans had to believe she was dead. There were combat soldiers in the audience, and they knew the genuine article when they saw it – blood and shock. Nothing would scare Louisa more than that uniform. Now that was your idea. You knew all her soft places.“
„Torturing people is your gift, isn’t it, Mallory? I wonder where you learned that.“
„The wound had to be authentic – real blood. Her life depended on it.
It should have been Max Candle on that stage. But he couldn’t go through with it. That’s why you did his act that night, and why you wore that uniform. You were the one who loved her enough to frighten her and hurt her – so she could survive.“
Malakhai stared at her with naked surprise. Perhaps he had never suspected her of having the humanity to work it out.
„And while she was dying?“ Mallory leaned closer. „You must know what went through her mind. Your wife gave up the fight too soon. You know it’s true. You’ve seen more death than I have. You know what it takes to kill a human being. And you know why she stopped fighting? All the while that bastard was murdering her, she thought she had it coming. Louisa thought you wanted her dead.“
So much for humanity. She had made him drop his wineglass.
He dabbed at the red stain on the sheet. „You’re the most ruthless woman I’ve ever met.“
She sat back, somehow disappointed, waving her hand to ask, Is that all?
„But whatever you are,“ he said, „I suppose I’m a hundred times worse. I was doing monstrous things when I was only eighteen years old.“
„I can top that,“ she said. „I was diagnosed as a sociopath when I was eleven years old.“ Did that sound competitive? This was all about control now.
„You’re lying, Mallory. Ruthless is the only compliment you get.“
In a case with no hard evidence, so much depended on topping him at ripping human beings to shreds. „It’s true. I’ve got everything it takes to nail that bastard. You can trust me to do the job right.“
He shook his head to say he didn’t believe her.
„Helen – my foster mother – she tore the psychiatrist’s report into a million pieces. That’s how bad it was.“ The violence of that tearing and shredding had piqued a child’s curiosity. Long past the bedtime of a little girl, she had retrieved all the scraps from the garbage pail. Behind her locked bedroom door, young Kathy had been wearing the hated ducky pajamas, bright yellow baby birds on a field of ocean blue. She had pretended to love them because they were a gift from Helen’s loving hands.
The child had patiently worked through the night, taping all the torn bits of paper, restoring each page to precise right-angled corners and perfectly straight edges. Then she had read the diagnosis of an eleven-year-old girl. The summary page had been written in simple language so that no one could escape its meaning – not even a child.
She recalled the pages falling to the floor, then staring into a mirror, eyes wounded by an assault of words on paper, slowly coming to grips with the idea that a monster could have blue pajamas with yellow ducks.
„I still remember that test.“ The doctor had said there were no right or wrong answers, only choices. Later it turned out that he had lied about that. „I think I only got one question right.“ One response had been circled in red ink – probably as a consolation prize for her foster mother. Dr. Brenner had known that Helen was a sucker for wounded animals.