Blood and Bone (28 page)

Nieswand stared up into Hannibal's eyes with more contempt than fear. “Any man might have done the same. She's my wife, for God's sake.”

“The hell of it is, he'll probably duck the chair with that line of defense,” Cindy said.

“I didn't know this man before I hired him,” Nieswand said. “How was I to know he'd take advantage of my wife?”

“Liar!”

All heads turned toward Abby, now holding her husband's gun which she retrieved from under the bed. The barrel was trained on Hannibal's back, but as he slowly stepped away it stayed in place, focused now on her husband's heart.

“You knew the condition I was in,” she screeched, her voice cracking with emotion. “How could you do this? For a while, you had me convinced I killed poor Pat. The liquor. The pills. Then the sedatives. I couldn't think. But hearing you say it, now I know it was you. You shot him, but you said it was me so many times I…” She swallowed hard, then went on. “But you said you didn't know Pat. Now you tell them the truth.”

“Darling,” Nieswand began, “You're confused. I never knew this man.”

The gunshot was deafening in the small room. Nieswand must have felt the wind from the bullet hitting the wall five inches from his face. He dropped to his knees, leaning back, his chained hands in front of his face.

“You came and got me last year,” Abby shouted. “Tell them.”

“Yes,” Nieswand croaked. “Yes, I came and got you.” Then he turned to Rissik, as if seeking salvation. His eyes finally flashed fear. “She ran away from me.
Just disappeared. I was frantic. The police never got anywhere. I ran newspaper ads offering a reward for information. I called all her family I knew. I hired a detective. Then, three weeks she's gone, I get a phone call. This guy, he knows where she is, and he wants to know about the reward.”

“That's a lie,” Abby cried again.

“I'm sorry darling, but it's the truth,” Nieswand said, still on his knees. “I went to that dirty hotel room he had you in and I paid him.” Then turning back to Rissik, “I bought my wife back from that man for five thousand dollars.”

“Oh my God.”

Hannibal stepped slowly back until he stood on the opposite side of the bed from Abby. He could see her hands shake with the weight of the revolver. “Oh my God,” he said again. “You knew him. You knew who he was when he came here. So you must have known about the scam with Angela all along. You let him do this, even knowing Kyle might die if it worked.”

“Kyle?” Abby asked.

“Kyle Mortimer has cancer, Mrs. Nieswand,” Hannibal said. “We think your Pat Louis brought in Angela Briggs to fool the Mortimers into thinking she was a close relative who could give Kyle the bone marrow transplant he needs to live.”

Abby turned again to her husband, staring as if she was not sure she recognized him. “Is that true? Is that what you and Louis argued about in the night? This girl?”

Nieswand, apparently in control of himself again, turned to Rissik. “You have to protect me, and I have no intention of incriminating myself further.”

“No,” Abby said, moving one step closer but keeping her husband's chest in her sights. “Pat told
me he knew Harlan Mortimer's son years ago, and he was dead. You must have been in this with him. You tell me the truth now.”

Nieswand stared into his wife's face and seemed to shrink into his clothes. Perhaps he realized it was over. Possibly, he believed his wife would shoot him if he didn't talk. Maybe he just ran out of energy and gave up. Finally he said “It was all Louis' idea.”

“What was?” Rissik asked, pulling a pad from his pocket.

“He knew Jacob Mortimer was dead. He found this girl somewhere who bore a strong resemblance to him, and she was the right age to be his daughter. He wanted to slide her into Mortimer's family and when she got a big inheritance, he'd take it from her. I had no choice but to go along. He was right here watching me, and if I told anyone what he was doing he'd have told the world about his affair with my alcoholic, drug-addicted wife. I figure he must have something on Angela too, to keep her in line.”

“That won't wash,” Hannibal said, sitting on the bed. “Lots of people in this town have survived lots worse scandals. Besides, he might have gotten close, but he couldn't talk to the Mortimers. Only you could have planted the idea in Camille's head to look for Jacob as a bone marrow donor. So you had to have an active part in this. In fact, I'll bet it was your idea to use me.”

“Yeah, why bring you into it at all?” Rissik asked from the doorway.

“Well, Angela couldn't just stroll up and ask ‘are you my grandpa' could she?” Hannibal said. “They set me on the trail knowing I'd find Jacob's grave, and they simply positioned Angela where I'd have to fall over her. Most private detectives would have been
happy to take the credit for finding the lost heir and dropped out of the picture.”

“Thank God you didn't,” Lippincott said. Then to Nieswand, “I've known you a lot of years, you sniveling bastard, but I didn't think even you could be capable of such pernicious villainy. You would have let Kyle die. And what you did to this woman. What you had me do.” He turned to Abby, pain etched on his face. Rissik took the doctor's arm and guided him out of the room, into the hall.

“Okay, you got the picture,” Nieswand said from the floor. “Abby, could you put the gun down now?”

“I should kill you for shooting Pat,” Abby snarled. “There was no reason to kill him. Didn't you know I still loved you?”

Cindy stepped forward until she was within arm's reach of Abby's gun hand. The pistol's focus never left Gabriel. “You had nothing to do with the reason Pat Louis is dead,” she said. “They were business partners. He didn't care who you slept with. In a sense those two were already in bed together.”

“So did Louis try to squeeze you out?” Hannibal asked Nieswand. “Or did you just decide you wanted it all?”

Nieswand stared at the carpet. “The bastard got greedy. I wasn't going to let him cut me out. His plan worked just fine without him. I saw a chance to blame his death on his old mob contacts. I just didn't know Abby was watching.”

“Sounds like a confession to me,” Cindy said. “I have no doubt, Mrs. Nieswand, that your husband will spend a great deal of time in jail. Why don't you give me that gun now?”

Abby took a step back. “No, I don't think so. I think maybe I'll kill him.” Her clear eyes and her smooth
unwrinkled brow chilled Hannibal more than her steady hands wrapped around the small revolver. Abby had reached a point where she could calmly kill the man she loved. Across the room, Nieswand was changing again. His jaw shook, his eyes spread round and his breathing was labored. He sat back on his heels, a dark stain spreading from his crotch. Aside from trembling he held very still, his mouth silently forming the word “no” again and again. Like he finally realized if you tell a person they are insane often enough, they will eventually fulfill your expectations.

Bed springs squeaked as Hannibal leaned to his side, trying to position himself for action. “I know this sounds like a cliché, but you can't get away with it,” he said. “You may not have noticed, but several more policemen have joined Detective Rissik in the hall. If your gun goes off, one of them will kill you.”

“No, I'll shoot my way out.”

Cindy reached out slowly. “You don't want to.”

“Yes, I do,” Abby snapped. “You get over in the doorway. That way they'll have to shoot you to get me.” The gun barrel moved toward Cindy's face and she backed into the doorway. Rissik watched over her shoulder. Hannibal saw Rissik's gun peeking out under Cindy's arm. His heart drummed triple time in his chest and cold droplets rolled down his spine. This could get awfully messy awfully fast, and Nieswand was not worth his wife's life.

“Let's think about this,” Hannibal said as calmly as he could. “Old Gabe here shot at me out the window. Then he made that hole there in the ceiling. And you made one over there in the wall. Now I figure that leaves you just three bullets. Hardly enough for a shootout.”

Abby smiled in spite of herself. “Not quite a blaze of glory, is it? Him, you, maybe your girlfriend.”

“Not really,” Hannibal said, leaning a bit farther. “You don't kill anybody with one round from a thirty-eight. That thing won't handle thirty-eight specials or magnums. Just regular ball ammo. You'd use up all three bullets on your husband.”

“Yeah. But he'd be gone,” Abby said, her voice as cold as the grave she planned for her husband. He seemed to feel the chill clear across the room.

“Maybe. And maybe you too when the jury's through. This is cold-blooded, premeditated murder.”

Abby seemed to consider his words. Her brow furrowed a bit, and her head tilted to one side. The tip of her tongue poked out a corner of her mouth. Then her lips pressed together and she shook her head once decisively, and turned to Hannibal.

“Consider what's written in my medical records. Think I could win with an insanity plea?”

As she turned back to face her husband, Hannibal knew she would do it. Her finger tightened on the small chrome-plated trigger as he launched himself across the bed. In slow motion, he saw the little gun's hammer move back as he fought against inertia and gravity to push himself across the queen size space. He could see the tip of Abby's index finger whiten as she squeezed.

Hannibal's gloved hand pressed against Abby's forearm as the concussion rocked his ears and the world returned to full speed. He landed on Abby's soft body, both his hands struggling to keep hers over her head on the floor. Acrid smoke choked him and the familiar metallic taste of cordite filled his mouth.

Abby actually growled as she grappled with him, and her head snapped forward, banging into him above his right eye. Blue floaters danced in front of him and his ears were still ringing but he leaned forward, pinning Abby's hands in place. Then a foot crushed down on the gun and strong hands jerked him to his feet. Three policemen rushed in to get Abby under control. And Lippincott was there too, close beside her, talking to her in soothing tones. Hannibal sat back on the bed and turned his head, setting off a pulsing headache. When he zeroed in on Nieswand Cindy was kneeling in front of him. Another bullet hole hung two inches from his head.

Cindy bent her head toward her one time mentor. “I am truly sorry I had to be part of this. To a great extent, I feel I should have been defending you. Instead, I helped bring you down.”

Hannibal watched them with more than casual curiosity. He did not understand this man at all. Now he appeared quite reasonable, clear and lucid, the
man Cindy had described in the past. Nieswand put a hand gently on Cindy's shoulder and held her gaze.

“Don't you ever regret what you've done here today,” Nieswand said. “I wish I had earned your loyalty, but in truth I didn't. And today, when it mattered, your loyalties were in the right place. You remember forever that your proper fidelity, allegiance and faithfulness is to the system of justice we, all lawyers worship. Or should.”

A uniformed officer stood on either side of Nieswand and slid him to his feet. Abby was again quiet, standing in the opposite corner of the room. Nieswand watched her as the police began to guide him out of the room.

“Hold up a minute please,” Hannibal called. When they turned, he held Nieswand by an arm. “Listen, there's still one thing that just doesn't make sense. You took a big gamble here, but I think you knew the stakes all along. You're not crazy, and you're not stupid. You might have talked your way out of all this today, got Lippincott to sedate Abby again and just got yelled at for taking your wife out of the hospital. Nobody even suspected you. So why on earth did you take that shot at me?”

“I got scared,” Nieswand said. “I thought you were Angela and Malcolm coming back to get me.”

“Whoa.” Hannibal's head started spinning again. He pulled Nieswand back into the room. “Angela was here? When?”

“This morning, early. They came pounding on my door at the crack of dawn.”

“What could she have wanted with you?” Cindy asked.

“Just like you, she wanted to know who killed Pat Louis. The girl was crazed, I'm telling you. And she
had a gun. I was the only other person she could talk to, since I knew what Louis was up to. She figured I must know him well enough to know who'd want to kill him.”

“Okay, so you were scared,” Hannibal said. “And guilty. So what did you tell her?”

Nieswand seemed to be reliving Angela's visit. “I had to think fast. They were desperate and not real rational. I told them it must have been his ex-wife. He told me about her once. She was the real baby's governess or something I guess, so I said I figured she might hate Louis enough to do him in, especially if she thought he did something with the real baby.”

“You stinking son of a bitch,” Hannibal said. “You set those lunatics on Daisy Sonneville?” Before anyone could stop him, Hannibal slammed his right fist into Nieswand's midsection. The lawyer doubled over, and spit his last meal down onto the carpet. Hannibal stalked out into the hallway and grabbed a young uniformed officer. “Rissik,” he said. The youngster blinked and pointed toward the stairs. Hannibal jogged down them. He found Rissik in the living room using the telephone. Lippincott hung at his shoulder, bouncing from one foot to the other like he had to go to the bathroom. Rissik hung up as Hannibal reached him. He seemed too calm for Hannibal's tastes, like he had days like this all the time.

“Where is she?” Hannibal demanded. “Where's Angela?”

Rissik looked at him the way policemen do, as if whatever your problem is, is not important. “Lost her.”

“Lost her?” Hannibal's pitch rose with his frustration level. “Lost her? How the hell could you lose her? Did your boys fall asleep or what?”