Naked Once More (42 page)

She would have known who he was from the very feel of him—and the smell of whiskey—but the light she had left burning on her desk enabled her to make out his features distinctly, and at unpleasantly close range. She had never felt quite so helpless. Her purse, with its assortment of defensive weapons, had fallen from her grasp. She kicked back, at his shin, but discovered that it is difficult to get sufficient weight behind a kick when both feet are off the floor. The sounds she made, deep in her throat, could not have been audible more than two feet away.

Her rescuer was not quite so close, but he had inhumanly sharp ears. Jacqueline had no idea he was there until Paul let out a muffled howl and relaxed his grip. Feeling his muscles loosen, Jacqueline flung herself forward. She landed on her hands and knees, and made a wild grab for her purse. By the time she had located the can of hair spray, Paul was in retreat, backing up the stairs and kicking wildly at his attacker. Lucifer avoided Paul’s foot without difficulty; his narrowed eyes and bristling whiskers were as eloquent as a sneer on a human face. He braced himself, soared into the air, sank teeth and front claws into Paul’s arm, twisted and landed on all fours, ready for another assault.

Jacqueline cleared her throat. “Kill,” she croaked.

Lucifer turned his head and looked at her. So did Paul. “For God’s sake, don’t scream,” he gasped. “There are cops all over the place. I just wanted—oh, Jesus!”

He doubled over, clutching his leg. Lucifer had struck again, and withdrawn in good order.

“Sit down,” Jacqueline ordered.

She walked toward him, hair spray at the ready. Paul appeared to be mildly amused at her choice of weapon; he dropped down onto the stairs and said meekly, “Okay. Just keep that animal away from me.”

“He won’t bother you if you don’t make any aggressive moves,” said Jacqueline, hoping the statement, and its converse, was true. Lucifer had declared himself the winner and retired to his corner, where he began to groom himself furiously.

“I didn’t want you to scream when you saw me,” Paul began.

“A finger to the lips would have conveyed that idea just as effectively.”

“If I had come lurching at you making sssh-ing noises, what would you have done?”

“I would not have screamed. I never scream. But I might have made a noise of some kind… Oh, forget it. What are you doing here? That was a damn-fool stunt, running away from the hospital, and staying on the run is even dumber. It only confirms suspicions that would never have arisen if you had behaved yourself.”

“They would have arisen,” Paul said coolly. “Our current sheriff, Bob Lightfoot, is also rather light on brains, but Bill Hoggenboom is a sharp old coot. Sooner or later he’ll figure out that Jan’s death was no accident.”

“He already has.”

“Ah.” Paul nodded. “Has he also figured out that I’m the most likely suspect? Hell, I’m the
only
suspect. Nobody else knew her well enough to want to hurt her. Thanks for your advice, but if you don’t mind I prefer not to turn myself in until I’ve had a chance to find an alternative killer.”

“That is a childish, dangerous—”

“People who live in glass houses… I risked coming here because I had to find out what has been happening. I can hardly call Bill and ask him the results of the autopsy.”

The telephone began to ring. “Don’t answer it,” Paul ordered.

“That could be Bill,” Jacqueline said. “He called earlier to tell me you had escaped, as he put it. He thought you might come here. Though I’m damned if I know why he should have thought so—or why you did come.”

“I told you. I need to know what’s going on. What did the autopsy find?”

“It was inconclusive—so far—as to identity,” Jacqueline said, watching him closely. His face betrayed nothing except detached interest. “She was… she had been badly injured in some past accident.”

Paul nodded. “That would account for Kathleen’s prolonged absence, wouldn’t it? Severe injuries, concussion, amnesia…”

“No,” Jacqueline snapped. “As for the cause of death—they don’t believe the bookshelf could have killed her. The weapon was something smaller and harder, like a poker. There are other things that point to murder rather than accident.”

“The notice on the door,” Paul said. “She didn’t put it there, the killer did. And if they look closely, they’ll find that the bolts holding that bookcase to the floor could not have worked loose by themselves.”

The telephone rang again. “If I don’t answer it, somebody may decide to come calling,” Jacqueline said. “To make certain I have not been molested by a certain escaped lunatic.”

By the time she picked up the phone it had stopped ringing. Paul made no attempt to prevent her, but he said, “Don’t try to call Bill.”

“And don’t you threaten me, Paul Spencer. I’m trying to help you! You sure as hell don’t make it easy.”

“That was no threat, Jacqueline; it was a warning. I could be well away from here before Bill arrived. I doubt you could prevent me from leaving.”

Jacqueline sighed. “Will you stop playing hero? Turn yourself in. They haven’t any evidence against you. You’re going to get yourself in worse trouble if you keep running aimlessly around the landscape. Especially if you drink a quart of whiskey a day.”

Paul’s hand went to his mouth, like that of a child caught with chocolate on his face. “Is my breath that bad? It wasn’t a whole quart, there was only… How did you know?”

“I went to the clearing to look for you. I saw the broken bottle.” Jacqueline decided not to mention the bear.

“You went up there by yourself? I’m touched.”

“No, I’m touched—in the head.” Jacqueline flung her arms wide. “I must be crazy, or I wouldn’t be wasting valuable time arguing with you.”

“It was smart of you to figure out that’s where I would go,” Paul muttered. He yawned widely. “God, I’m tired. After I left the hospital I hitched a ride, but the guy dropped me ten miles from town and I was afraid to risk it a second time, in case the cops had put out a bulletin on me. I must have walked twenty miles today.”

“Where did you get the booze?” Jacqueline asked curiously.

“My place. I assumed they had already looked for me there, so it would be a safe place to hide. But Bill is smarter than I anticipated; I hadn’t been inside five minutes before a cruiser pulled up in front of the house. I had barely enough time to get out a window.”

“Taking the bottle with you,” Jacqueline said caustically. “Your priorities are a little screwed up, Paul.”

“It was for medicinal purposes.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know why I took it,” Paul admitted. “Or why I went to the clearing. It wasn’t because I had some nutty notion of communing with Kathleen’s spirit—”

“But you had been taking flowers to her. Lilacs.”

Paul’s eyes fell. “Every spring. Damn-fool performance… But that was when I thought she’d been murdered, taken from me against her will. There was more anger than grief in my mind this time. I wanted… I guess I wanted to get back at her—at Kathleen. To make some gesture that would express my rage and my frustration.”

Jacqueline was unable to resist. “Such as smashing the stone with a crowbar?”

“Something like that.” Paul laughed harshly. “Only I didn’t have a crowbar. I didn’t have anything except my bare hands, and the bottle. Seemed a shame to waste good whiskey, so I sat down and started drinking. I’m sorry now I smashed the bottle; vandalism is a poor substitute for theatrics. You see, while I was sitting there it all drained out of me, and by the time I’d emptied the bottle I realized I just didn’t care anymore. No, that’s not exactly right; I do care about Kathleen, I loved her and I want to see her avenged. But I’m finally free of the wistful wraith that has haunted me for seven years. She was just a woman, with ordinary human weaknesses—”

“A rag and a bone and a hank of hair,” said Jacqueline. “So now you’re free to love again, right?”

Paul flinched. “You’re a bitch, Ms. Kirby. Haven’t you any feelings?”

“My feelings, if any, are not relevant.” The telephone rang again; Jacqueline snatched it up. “Hello,” she growled. “Oh. It’s you, Mollie. No, no, I’m fine. I went out for a little while. I just got back. What is it?”

She listened in silence for a time, her face immobile. Then she said, “Thanks,” and hung up.

“Well?” Paul said.

Jacqueline hesitated briefly. Then she shrugged. “I could lie to you, but I prefer not to. Somebody spotted you heading this way and called Bill. He tried to persuade Mollie to give him the key to the cottage, but she insisted on calling me first.”

Paul got to his feet. “He’s at the inn?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll be here in about ninety seconds, then.” Paul glanced almost casually at his watch. “That gives me thirty seconds for a final statement. Tell Bill I was here. Tell him, and the press, that I know who killed Kathleen, and that I’m going after him.”

“But that’s not true.”

“Part of it is true. I do want to kill the son of a bitch. I don’t know who he is… yet. But if he’s concentrating on me, he won’t bother you.” Paul bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “I told you, Ms. Kirby, that I know quite a lot about you. You’ve been asking a lot of questions that have nothing to do with writing a book. Keep it up, I’ll help all I can. If and when—”

The telephone rang, the knocker on the front door banged, and Jacqueline lost her cool. “For God’s sake!” she shouted. “You don’t understand. This is not the way—”

“You’d better answer the door,” Paul said, retreating step by step into the darkened kitchen. Jacqueline followed him. “Wait,” she begged. “I’ve almost got it figured out. By tomorrow afternoon I’ll have the proof I need. Just give me—”

“Sssh.” Paul peered out the kitchen window. “I wonder if Bill has enough manpower to surround the house. Maybe not. I’ve changed my mind, Jacqueline—don’t answer the door. He’ll come around to the back next. Is this door locked? Yes, it is. Good.”

His hand closed over Jacqueline’s wrist with enough force to wring a yelp—not a scream—from her. “Go ahead, yell as loud as you like,” Paul said. She couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but she knew from his voice that he was smiling. “If I had the time, I would fold you in a passionate embrace and leave you with a beautifully poignant memory. However… Ah. Here he comes.”

Jacqueline was handicapped by her own propensity toward melodrama. She expected him to clip her tenderly on the jaw, or throttle her gently. Instead he hooked her feet out from under her and let her fall heavily onto her posterior. Pain shot through her from her tailbone to the top of her head. It took her a while to recover her wits and crawl to the back door, where Bill was pounding furiously. By the time she had unlocked the door, Paul was gone.

“How did he get in?” Bill demanded. “There was no sign of forced entry.”

“I didn’t let him in, if that’s what you’re implying.” Jacqueline lowered herself gingerly onto the softest chair in the room.

“Wasn’t implying anything. Was going to ask if you’re sure you locked up.”

“I’m sure. I’d be criminally culpable if I didn’t, after what has gone on. Not that it matters,” Jacqueline added with justifiable bitterness. “Locked doors don’t seem to deter my visitors one damn bit.”

“I suppose he could’ve picked the lock,” Bill mused. “That’s not as easy as people think, though. Seems more likely he had a key.”

“It’s not at all likely.” Jacqueline shifted position, wincing. “Where would he get it?”

“I wonder.” Bill took a gentlemanly sip of the bourbon Jacqueline had provided. “I wonder if maybe the same key would work in all these old houses.”

“Surely not. That wouldn’t provide much security for the owners.”

“We aren’t security-conscious in these parts, even now. Up to ten years ago, nobody locked their doors. Some of the old-timers still don’t. Paul had a key to the bookstore.”

“No, Bill, he didn’t. He had to look for the key she’d left outside.”

“That’s what he claimed. But he was her best friend, the one she called when she needed help. Hell, my wife has handed out house keys to a dozen of her lady friends; don’t know why women do that, they claim it’s in case they lose their key, but…” He lowered his empty glass and stared at Jacqueline. “What’s the matter with you? Delayed shock?”

Jacqueline knew she must look perfectly half-witted. Her jaw had dropped and her eyes had popped. “Key,” she mumbled. “Ear.”

Bill took her by the chin and peered intently into her eyes. “Concussion, maybe. Pupils aren’t dilated—”

“If I were a horse,” Jacqueline cried. “No. No, it’s too wild. I can’t believe it!”

“I can’t believe it either,” Bill said. “Here. What you need is a drink.”

“Maybe I do.” Jacqueline took the glass he offered and swallowed. “Wow. That hit the spot. Sorry to have alarmed you, Bill, I just remembered something I… something I had forgotten.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Unless my brains are in my… Yes, I’m sure. Hadn’t you better get out there and join the hunt?”

Bill heaved himself to his feet. “No use me tromping around in the dark. Paul knows the woods better’n anybody in town. Doubt if we’ll find him tonight. But I can take a hint.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude, Bill. I am awfully tired.” Jacqueline walked him to the door.

“You’re up to something,” Bill said. “I’d try to find out what, but there’s no sense arguing with a woman who’s got the bit between her teeth.”

“A particularly apt metaphor,” Jacqueline acknowledged. “Come and see me tomorrow, Bill. Five o’clock—
P.M.
, that is. We’ll have a friendly drink and a friendly chat.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” Bill said heavily. “It’s a date. I just hope to hell you know what you’re doing. I got no excuse to lock you up, so there’s no way I can keep you from doing it.”

From the set of his shoulders as he walked away, Jacqueline knew he was not feeling kindly toward her. Sooner or later, every policeman she met expressed a desire to lock her up. For all their varied charms, they were men of limited scope, poor things.

She closed and locked the door, and for a few seconds stood perfectly still trying to repress an inappropriate urge to grin and giggle. Her latest inspiration excelled all the others in the sheer brilliance of its implausibility. Yet if it was true, it would explain several minor points that had been bothering her.