Dead Giveaway (24 page)

The Caretaker groaned as he saw Alan reach for his robe. Now both of them were up again and he used Jack's fancy system to track them into the kitchen. A late-night snack. He might have known. Laureen took out one of Clayton's frying pans while Alan assembled the ingredients. It was almost like watching one of her cooking shows. In less than ten minutes, Brie and prosciutto omelets with a dollop of sour cream were ready. Garnished with chives and ripe olive slices, they looked delicious.

Laureen handed the plates to Alan and picked up the napkins and silverware. No problem. But he swore softly under his breath as they bypassed the dining room and headed out to the rose garden.

“It's nice out here, isn't it, honey?” Laureen smiled at her husband. They'd finished their omelets and were enjoying a glass of Chablis from Clayton's refrigerator.

Alan nodded. “Yes, but you can tell Clayton's no gardener. The rosebushes need pruning.”

“And the gazebo needs a new coat of paint.” Laureen frowned. “I'm surprised at Rachael. She keeps the rest of the apartment in such good shape.”

Alan fumbled in the breast pocket of his robe for a cigarette, wishful thinking since they were still safely hidden in his father's desk. He really wanted a smoke, but he never smoked a pipe right before bed. It took about forty-five minutes to smoke a bowl and there was no way he'd risk ruining a good pipe by knocking it out before it was finished. The moisture and oils from the tobacco would sour the pipe. He settled for a walk around the garden instead, examining the rosebushes.

“Look at this, Laureen,” he called out, pointing to a patch of ground. “Maybe Clayton's hired a gardener.”

Laureen walked over to join him. “I know I'm probably being ridiculous, but doesn't this look a lot like a . . .” she swallowed hard, “. . . a grave?”

Alan laughed. “More like a flower bed to me. Remember that bed of zinnias you put in by our old house? I think it was about this size.”

Laureen gave a sigh of relief. “I guess my imagination is running away with me, honey. It's just that so many people have died.”

“Yeah. And they're all in our freezer. Pretty soon there won't be enough room for your brownies.”

“Alan! You're terrible!” Laureen was shocked, but she couldn't help laughing.

Alan grinned and hugged her. Then, catching a glitter in the dirt, he stooped down to pick up a heart-shaped diamond earring. “Look at this, honey.”

Laureen stared down at the earring for a moment and then she gave a little cry. “That looks just like the earrings Hal gave Vanessa.”

“Might as well keep it.” Alan stuck it in his pocket. “I've got the other one. I found it on the floor of the freezer. She must have been wearing them the night she died.”

“But what was she doing out here?” Laureen shivered. “This doesn't make any sense, Alan.”

“Maybe we'd better wake the others. Come on, honey.”

Laureen could feel her knees shaking as she walked through Clayton's apartment and out the door. The lights on either side of Clayton's door were out. She hadn't noticed that earlier.

“It's really dark, Alan.”

“I must have turned off the hall lights by mistake.” Alan led her calmly down the hall.

Laureen leaned against the wall as Alan pressed the elevator button. At least the arrow lit up, its faint glow reassuring her.

The elevator doors slid open, but the inside light was off. Laureen shuddered and stepped back. “I'm not getting in there in the dark.”

Alan put his arm around her shoulders. “The bulb's just burned out. The elevator's still working just fine.”

“But what if the power's going out? We could get stuck!”

Alan sighed. There were times when his wife was terribly obstinate. “The doors opened and they're electrical, and the button lit up. Come on, Laureen, we don't have time to argue about this.”

“Let's take the stairs. Please?”

“Be reasonable, honey. You told me your legs were stiff from sleeping on the lounge chair. Do you really want to walk down all those stairs? We'll get there much faster in the elevator.”

Laureen took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, as Alan took her arm to lead her forward. Then she let out a cry and pulled him back. “It's not there! Oh, my God, Alan! The elevator's not there!”

Alan took a step back, away from the brink of the yawning shaft, and reached out to wrap both arms around her. “Jesus, Laureen! You saved our lives!”

“Thank God I noticed! If we . . .” Laureen's voice broke and she found she couldn't go on. Thinking about what could have happened was just too horrible. As they stood there hugging each other, glorying in the fact that they were still alive and safe, something connected solidly with the small of Laureen's back, hurtling them forward into the empty shaft. They had a brief moment to clutch at the empty air as they fell five floors to the garage. Alan had been right. The elevator was much faster than the stairs. They didn't even have time to scream.

Betty let out a little cry. Her secret friend had gone down to forbidden channel zero to open the big box that ran the elevator and then he'd come back to channel five to push them. Now they were falling to the bottom of the elevator shaft to play dead. She didn't want to watch the end of this movie. It was so scary that holding her hand in front of her eyes wouldn't help.

Outside snow was falling again. Betty knew it was late at night because the other channels were playing their sleeping movies. Her secret friend had been here again and he'd given her more of her favorite candy. This time she had taken three pieces, but she'd saved them for later. Of course, she hadn't let him see her. He was so nice to bring the candy and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

The thought of the candy made her mouth water, and Betty reached under her pillow. It was still there, wrapped in a tissue, but it didn't look much like candy anymore. She tossed the gooey mass in the wastebasket by her bed and reached for a cracker instead. At least crackers didn't melt, they only crumbled. She was just about to put on one of the Doris and Rock movies that Jack had given her, when she found something interesting on forbidden channel two.

 

 

“Did you hear something?” Moira sat up in bed. “Grace? Are you awake?”

Grace sat up and swung her feet out of bed. “I am now. What was it?”

“It sounded like something crashed into the living room wall. I think I'd better take a look.”

“I'll go with you.”

Grace got into her robe and slippers and followed Moira into the living room. They switched on the lights, but there didn't seem to be anything out of place.

“Maybe one of the animals fell over,” Moira guessed. “We'd better check.”

Grace lagged behind a bit as she followed Moira to the storage room. When her father had died, she'd wanted to sell off the whole collection, but Moira had been delighted with the variety of species her father had preserved. Grace never liked going to the storage room, but it was even worse at night. Paul had designed a huge temperature-controlled room to house and preserve her father's legacy. It had a rustic look, almost like the inside of a log cabin, and Moira had arranged the specimens in a manner that was much too realistic. It frightened Grace every time she saw the big upright Kodiak bear, huge paws extended to rake her into his deadly embrace.

The black panther was another animal Grace avoided. His yellow glass eyes glittered savagely in the light and his lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl, exposing his long, sharp incisors. He looked ready to pounce on her and rip her flesh into shreds.

“Everything seems to be all right.” As Moira walked down the rows of animals, she reached out to pat the lion's head. “Check on Penny, will you, Grace? If she fell over, she'd make an awful racket.”

Penny was Moira's nickname for the giraffe, and Grace dutifully headed to the back of the room, giving the bear and the panther a wide berth. At least the giraffe didn't scare her. She'd never heard of anyone being attacked by a giraffe.

“Penny didn't tip over.” Grace's voice quavered slightly and she was ashamed of her timidity. She'd never mentioned her fears to Moira, but she was very glad when they closed the door on her father's menagerie and went back into the living room again.

“Your picture's crooked.” Moira pointed to the publicity photo of Grace in her first role as a featured dancer. “Something must have bashed against the other side of this wall. That's the elevator shaft, isn't it?”

Grace nodded. “Maybe it got stuck and someone pounded on the wall to get our attention.”

They hurried out into the hall and pressed the elevator button. In a moment, the doors slid open. Moira was about to step in even though the inside of the cage was dark, when Grace pulled her back.

“Oh, my God!” Moira's mouth dropped open as she peered into the empty shaft. “Thanks, Grace.”

Both women looked at each other for a moment and then Moira took charge. “Get the flashlight, Grace.”

Light in hand, Moira got down on her stomach and leaned over the shaft. When she spoke, her voice echoed hollowly. “There's something down there.”

“Does it look like a . . . a person?” Grace wasn't sure she wanted to know, but perhaps knowing was better than imagining.

Moira got to her feet. “More like a bundle of clothes. Come on, Grace. We've got to warn everyone so they won't use the elevator.”

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.

It seemed to take a long time to get from the bed to the door. But even though she was weak, her head seemed much clearer now, clearer than it had been in a long time.

It was strange being down here on the rug, and Betty smiled as she crawled through the bedroom doorway and out into the living room. Here the rug was brown, a beautiful rich chocolate brown.

Betty giggled. Everything was very different from this vantage point. No wonder babies were always smiling! She crawled past the coffee table and past her swivel rocking chair. She'd never realized that the living room was so large before, and it seemed to take a long time to crawl the length of the room to the front door.

The front doorknob was too high. What should she do? Stand up, of course. She needed something to hold. Using a table by the door, Betty pulled herself up. Her hands seemed to recall the motions and she slipped off the chain, turned the knob, and opened the door to the empty hallway stretching out before her.

Betty took one step forward, then dropped back down to her knees. It would be faster, and she wouldn't hurt herself if she fell. The stairwell seemed a very long way away.