"Sure seems like it," I said.
Part 3
ONE
Tandy was out of Susan Charles's personal Buick before the wheels had quite stopped rotating.
The same crowd of folks who had gathered here to watch Kibbe be carried out were back again. I recognized several of them. Maybe they were part of this portable crowd that got dropped off at all crime scenes.
As she struggled her way toward me-small against the taller, wider, heavier crowd-she looked young and frantic and scared.
She started to go around me, head for the open door where police officers and various other officials came and went.
But I stopped her, pulled her to me. "You don't want to go in there."
She tried to jerk herself free of me. "She was my sister, Robert. Now let me go."
"You don't want this to be your last memory of her."
Her struggling stopped. "Oh, God, is it that bad?"
"Pretty much. I'm sorry."
"But who did it?"
"Looks to be a murder-suicide." Then, "I was thinking about all the arguments they had over getting married."
"But Noah wouldn't-"
"I heard some of their arguments when I passed their door. He got pretty angry. And you told me yourself that he struck her a couple of times."
"But striking her-"
"Striking her means you're into violence. And the fact that she put up with it just made it worse. She showed him that there wouldn't be any serious consequences."
"She wouldn't talk to him for two or three days at a time."
"But she always took him back. And that was all he cared about. He could handle a few days of not having her as long as he knew that he'd get her back eventually. Which he did. Plus, he was a very possessive guy. And he drank a lot."
She'd calmed down. Tears gleamed in her eyes. "I just keep thinking of Laura. How-how did he do it?"
"Knife."
"Oh, God."
I decided to spare her any more details for now.
"Was it fast?"
"Her dying?"
She nodded.
"Probably very fast."
Which wasn't necessarily true. She'd put up some kind of fight. And if this was typical of most throat-slashings, her last minutes had been hell. But Tandy didn't need to know that. At least not now.
"I'm going to be sick."
I got her up to my room and into the bathroom. She vomited twice. I hadn't unpacked everything since I'd been moved. I turned on a nearby lamp, dug out toothpaste, mouthwash, and an unwrapped toothbrush for her. She thanked me between a half-inch of door and frame.
She spent twenty minutes washing up. I sat in the shadows on the other side of the room. Listened to all the activity downstairs.
When she came back, she sat down in the overstuffed chair and said, "He cut her throat, didn't he?"
"Yeah."
"That can be a terrible way to die, can't it?"
"There are a lot of terrible ways to die."
"You didn't answer my question, Robert."
"Yeah. It can be a terrible way to die."
"You think it took her a long time to die?"
"Probably not a long time."
"How long would you estimate?"
"I'm not a medical examiner, Tandy."
"You're evading my question again, Robert."
"I suppose a couple of minutes."
"A couple of minutes after he cut her throat?"
"Yes."
"God, when you're bleeding like that, and gasping for air, and all panicked and angry-a couple of minutes can be a long time."
"It probably can."
"I hope I don't see it."
At first, I wasn't sure what she meant.
Then she said, "Some psychics 'see' their loved ones dying. They can re-create the whole death scene. They live it over and over again."
"I hope you don't see it, either."
"It was starting to go well for us. I'm getting those funny feelings in my arms again. And all the time. Ever since we went out to where we found the bones."
She'd once told me that when her powers were operating at maximum efficiency, she'd get these tingles that raced up and down her arms.
"The tingles."
"Yeah," she said. "The tingles."
She put her face in her hands. "She would've been so happy about it. This whole night. Finding the bones and everything. The cable people would've been ecstatic."
Then she was weeping. More than simply crying but not yet sobbing. Weeping.
I went over and knelt next to the chair and started giving her a shoulder rub.
"That feels good?" she said tearfully.
"That's all the encouragement I need."
I lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, where I set her gently on top of the spread. I rolled her over and started working not only on her shoulders but her back as well.
"You're getting a woodie," she said.
"Sorry."
"I really don't want to do anything."
"I know. I'm sorry. This was something it did entirely on its own."
And isn't that always the way? Some nights when you need them, they're nowhere to be found. Other nights, they keep popping up at inopportune times.
I unstraddled her bottom, knelt next to her in such a way that the only part of my body touching hers was my hands.
"You really think he killed her?" She was done weeping. For now, anyway.
"Sure looks like it."
"Couldn't have been faked?"
"Could have. But it's tough to fake."
"She should've dumped him. I don't know what she saw in him, anyway."
"I guess she loved him."
"He was so unfaithful. I'm not sure why she put up with all the bad stuff Noah did to her. She must have really thought she loved him."
"I'm sure she did."
"God, I wish I could get my hands on him."
The calming effect of my massage was starting to lose its charm, apparently.
The knock was curt. "Hello," a female voice said. The uncertainty in her voice suggested that she wasn't sure that anybody was even in here.
Police Chief Susan Charles.
I eased off the bed and opened the door for her.
"I'll turn on another light," I said.
The light revealed Tandy sitting on the edge of the bed, combing through her short hair with her fingers.
Susan said, "I was actually looking for Tandy. There are two detectives here from the state, and they were asking if we could all talk to Tandy at the same time."
"Fine," Tandy said. "I need to go to the bathroom first." She went in and closed the door.
Susan stepped closer. "You get a good look at Laura West?" I nodded.
"He must've really been angry."
"There's one thing that's strange, though." I told her about his phone call and wanting to see me.
"Did he say about what?"
"He seemed to think Paul Renard is still alive."
She smiled. Obviously couldn't help herself. "Are you serious?"
"That's what he said."
"God, I knew he wanted ratings but-"
"That's what I thought. But I wanted to hear his story, anyway."
"I'll let you go through his effects with me if you want. See if we can turn anything up. I need to talk to you anyway. About the crime scene when you saw it. We'll go through his things afterwards."
"I'd appreciate that."
Tandy came back. "Do you have any Tums or anything like that? My stomach is a mess."
"I'm afraid I don't," I said.
"I've got some in my car:," Susan said.
"Thanks."
She looked around the room. "Forgive me for saying so, but this is kind of depressing."
"Gee," I said. "I hadn't noticed."
She smirked at me. "Uh-huh." Then, "You ready, Tandy?"
Tandy nodded. Then, "Robert says that maybe she died pretty quickly."
Susan knew she was being put on the spot. She avoided glancing at me to tip her hand. "Sometimes, it can be very fast."