She lays the dress out on the bed together with a bra designed to enhance her cleavage. She knows the effect it had on Wisdom and assumes it will be the same with the others. She’s already showered and washed her hair. There is nothing more to do now except dress, but first she kisses her ears with a daub of Heidi’s favorite Lanvin perfume. In minutes she’s ready.
Her rented car, an Audi A-4, sits in the driveway. She hasn’t used it much, trips to the supermarket and post office, one dinner meeting with Vice Consul Weis and a whirlwind tour of four art galleries on a rainy Saturday afternoon. She would have liked to have spent more time with Peter Wisdom. More social time, but she knows he’s married, and apparently happily so, and she is not like Heidi. Definitely not like Heidi. Most of her days are spent sitting right there with a view of the ocean and a book in her lap. She knows it’s time to go back to her life in Geneva. There is nothing more here for her other than pain, and so it’s time to end it all.
She moves to the small desk near the front door and lifts a large manila envelope. Inside sits a folded map of the area with two circled addresses. There is also a sheet of paper with three names complete with addresses and phone numbers. The names are Stern, Welbrook, and Posner. She ignores Stern’s Manhattan address and concentrates on the other two. She smiles as she remembers Wisdom’s attempt to camouflage the identities by speaking of “the doctor” or the “local guy.” She’s had all the details for over a month courtesy of Herr Weis of the consulate. All he needed to do was call in a State Department favor, but that’s what his job is 50 percent of the time, isn’t it?
She stares at the three names in front of her. Why did Wisdom only speak of the doctor and one other man? The man Wisdom called a “local.” The doctor was Stern. That was clear. The other two men, Welbrook and Posner, live close to each other according to the map and addresses. One of them must have been discarded as a suspect, but which? And why?
The why isn’t really important. All she needs is the name of the local man, either Welbrook or Posner. She can’t approach both and leafs through a small book of local numbers she keeps until she finds Bennett’s number and takes a chance. The connection is quick.
“Can you help me? I’m supposed to meet Detective Wisdom, but I’m not sure if it’s at Welbrook or Posner’s house.”
“That’s odd,” says Bennett, knowing the disguise plan might have been delayed, but thinking that they would arrive together if it was still on.
He quickly answers, “At Posner’s. Do you have the address?”
“Yes. Thank you. It’s very close.”
One last look in the mirror and she’s ready. In minutes she’s driving down the highway and senses the freedom of knowing she’ll soon have the truth. The earlier tension she felt has evaporated. She’s prepared to risk that Bennett might call Wisdom and relate their conversation. Still, this is not a worry. She’s not frightened. This is all too important. The road ahead is vacant, so she pushes the Audi to seventy. She flies along past clustered sentinels of black sand pines. It is as if the car knows the same urgency. “Gut,” she murmurs. In minutes she’ll be there.
CHAPTER 19
Stern decides to drive the Chevrolet he finds in the garage instead of the rented Ford. It’s only to the corner, but a car should be available if he needs to make a quick exit. On top of that, he feels that there may be a need to remain less obvious since he assumes a description of his rented car is known by now. He slips on his jacket, comforted by the slight pressure from the nodular shape of the two toxic syringes that press against his torso. He has no more with him. The rest were back in the apartment in the city. So be it. These will have to do.
A final look through the window confirms that Posner’s car still rests at the top of his driveway. This last look is fortunate. Just as he is about to leave, he sees a police cruiser swing around the corner and stop just in front of the house where he’s hiding. He ducks his head away out of instinct. There is no way the police can see him from where their car sits.
He expects the car to pull away, but is surprised when a patrolman steps from the car and approaches the front door. He hears a bell ring. And then again. After ten seconds there’s a knock on the door, which precedes the rattle of the front door handle. Then the bell again. He moves farther away from the window, yet the bell seems to follow him. Then silence. He moves back to the window and looks out. The car is there, but no policeman. He waits and barely breathes. After another few minutes, he hears the static from the man’s radio before he sees him. The cop is talking on his handheld.
“The house seems empty and all doors are locked.” Stern then hears a “Ten-four,” before he watches the man return to his cruiser and drive down the street where it slows as it passes Posner’s house then moves on until it disappears around the corner.
He moves downstairs to the garage connecting door and abruptly stops with his hand on the door handle. How could they possibly know to look here? Then it’s clear. They somehow can trace his cell phone. He enters the garage and slips behind the wheel of the Chevy. The keys are on the dash where he first saw them. The remote door opener is clipped to the visor. He presses the button and watches the large double door swing open. The car starts immediately and he rolls it down the short driveway into the street where he makes a quick turn down the block. He sees Posner’s house looming above him, a kind of Holy Grail he’s about to grasp.
The word about the absence of any activity in the house temporarily occupied by Stern reaches Wisdom just before he’s about to try Posner again. This time he’s more successful and wastes no time as he gets directly to the point.
“We have reason to believe that Dr. Stern has been in your neighborhood, at least earlier today. Have you seen anyone hanging around your house in the past few hours?’
“No. Nothing.”
“What about unusual street noises or phone calls?”
“Nothing there either.”
“Okay. I do want you to know that we have reason to believe Dr. Stern might be dangerous.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” As he speaks Posner stands and looks down the corridor towards the hall closet. “Yes. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Well, just so you know, we’re having a cruiser pass through your neighborhood at regular intervals.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Oh, Detective. A question. Do you think this Doctor Stern was involved in the woman’s disappearance?”
“It’s a possibility, sir. There are many possibilities.”
“I see. Okay. Thanks again. Bye.”
Posner feels almost giddy when he hangs up. He no longer fears discovery. The doctor is now the one between the crosshairs and has probably always been the one. No. He is no longer afraid. Sara will be here soon and they can start planning for a new life. He strides to the credenza and opens a bottle of wine. As he pours a glass he remembers that this was the same vintage that he opened for Heidi. He hoists the glass to toast her memory, and then watches as if petrified while his hand begins to shake and a flow of red trickles over the edge and onto his fingers. It’s Heidi’s blood. That’s all he can see. He splashes the wine out of the glass and across the sink. He washes his hands, but still sees her blood. Whatever elation he felt moments before was just a single, almost fragile speck of time that vanished. All he can think of now is wanting Sara to be here with him.