Ransom Game (30 page)

THIRTY-TWO

As soon as we got back to Helen's apartment, she closed the door and leant back against it.

“I'd better change,” I said lamely, unwrapping myself from the blanket I'd been wearing. Helen came into the room like a kid looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night.

“Benny, you didn't tell them about me. You left me out completely. You know that I've been unwillingly mixed up in all this.” I tried to remember where I'd put my trousers. She stood in front of me with the colour drained from her face.

“Well, let's say you aren't blameless. Did you see where I put my stuff?” I asked.

“Be still for a moment. Benny, I hope you're sure of what you're doing. And I promise I'll try to make it up to you. I will. When you know the circumstances …”

“It was Jarman, right? You had Jarman twisting your arm. What could you do?”

“Benny, it was terrible. But we can get clear of it now. Did you hear what that policeman said? He's dead. He can never spoil anything again, not for either of us.”

“He put you up to the Valium in my coffee this afternoon. He made you play up to me.”

“Yes, at first. That was his plan. But when I met you …”

“Sure. A little play-acting in a good cause.”

“Yes, at the beginning. I admit it. But now, everything is changed.”

“You aren't just whistling Dixie. You were the link between Johnny Rosa and Russ.”

“That doesn't matter. Not now.”

“Yes it does. I want to hear the truth for once.”

“Benny, Benny! Stop. I can't bear any more questions. It's all like a nightmare. I need your help.”

“It's a nightmare all right. You didn't plan this ending, did you? Jarman's dead. That wasn't in the script until a few minutes ago. So you're ad libbing a last scene, and it looks a little desperate, Helen.”

“No, no. Benny, I love you!” She was shouting through violent sobs which wracked her shoulders and practically shook off the yellow robe.

“First of all there are some things that you'd better tell me. The shooting in the parking lot; that was Jarman, wasn't it?” She nodded her red moist face and tried to talk but couldn't. “Thought that a little excitement might get us better acquainted? Well, it worked fine. You had me up here and tucked up in bed before the rifle cooled off. Yeah, I'd say that was a success. But today, that was below your form. I laid it on a bit strong about my bad swimming. I'm no Tarzan, but I can stay afloat. I guess that helped me fight that drug, the diazepam you hit me with in the coffee.” She kept shaking her head, as though I was putting the wrong construction on all of these facts, as though they would add up differently if I let her do the adding. I couldn't stop myself now that I'd started in.

“Jarman was low. We know that. But you were in it with him right from the beginning. You were there that night when Russ laid it all out for you. It was natural for you to be there; you were Russ's girl and Russ was really flying with his plan. You must have been bug-eyed listening. Russ told how it would get him even with his old man, how it would get Jarman to Gloria's bed in a way that the family would approve. There was something for everybody in the scheme. Well, not quite everybody. He'd forgotten about you, hadn't he? But you knew a good thing when you heard it. If there was money going to be passed around, you were sure that you'd get your share.”

“That's a lie! I loved Russ. I only went along with it because it was Russ's scheme. But when Bob started telling how the money could be made to grow, how it could be turned into power, it made Russ's plan look like a boy's prank. We'd all been drinking. I must have said something. Russ thought that I was siding with Bob against him. I can't remember the words. I held my hands over my ears. Russ slapped me. Bob pulled him away. I heard the Lotus screech away from the house. I loved Russ. I didn't want him to die!”

“But after he was dead, you pointed out to Jarman how valuable it would be to him to have you working for Gloria, I'm sure that you paid him for suggesting you countless times. After all, in those days, before the kidnapping, Jarman's stock was at an all-time low at the Warren house. He needed a friend at court. So you cooked up a story, something pathetic, something with a smatch of scandal in it. What was it?”

“Stop it! Stop it! You make everything sound so filthy. I loved Russ, I've told you and told you. I wanted his child, but the family wouldn't let me. Gloria was wonderful. We both loved Russ …”

“So that was it. An abortion. And so you were installed as a permanent fixture, with a life of comfortable ease leading to who knows what. And then you had your little brainwave, didn't yon?”

“What are you talking about?” She'd stopped crying now. Her faced was livid with hate. We stood in the middle of the room shouting at one another, our robes come undone and flapping about as we leaned like a couple of prizefighters into the battle.

“You'd kept up with Johnny Rosa from high on the hill. You hated to give something away for nothing, so you told him your idea. You convinced your old pal that the plan was as good as ever; you showed him how it would make him rich. Johnny was always easy for you to handle, wasn't he? But then, you never found men difficult. And Johnny liked the idea of you and all that money. So he went ahead on the Labour Day weekend.”

“I only suggested it. I had nothing to do with any part of it. I was here, I wasn't even at the cottage. Why would I want to hurt Gloria? I loved her. She'd been so good to me.”

“You knew she'd live through it. Don't lie any more. There've been too many lies.”

“I didn't have anything to do with it. It was all Johnny!”

“You told Jarman didn't you, so he'd be ready?”

“I had to. Bob wasn't going to go to the lake. I had to tell him. He was getting depressed, not getting anywhere with Mr. Warren. I had to tell him.”

“Then you knew that he'd picked up the money as soon as the dust settled after the kidnapping. You watched him make it grow the way he said he would. You watched him make his way from an outsider into the heart of the family, even closer than you to the old man and to Gloria. You're lucky he didn't kill you. But that's before he discovered how easy it is to kill anyone in the way.”

“You bastard, you twist everything. It wasn't like that. Bob loved me. He would do anything for me. Gloria was dear and kind, but she wasn't a woman. Bob and I understood each other.”

“I'll bet. I'll bet. Gloria went on with her dream-like pictures, those strange dolls with the knowing faces that knew what she couldn't admit even to herself.”

“Oh, shut up. You sound like a soap opera. It was a practical arrangement. It worked for all of us, even if Gloria didn't know anything about it. Why are you tormenting me? Why are you punishing me?” I ignored that, and kept hitting her with more questions.

“Then George Warren found the suitcase in Pop's hole. You hadn't expected that. George must have sailed into the house shouting at the top of his voice. Did you calm him? Did you try your talents on him?”

“You're disgusting.”

“Nevertheless. You took the fight out of him, kept him from making any more phone calls. Perhaps you made him a nice bedtime posset with Valium in it, and then prepared some coffee for him before his daily swim. Jarman did the dirty work, of course. You didn't even have to watch that. But I'll bet you were up most of the night stiffening Jarman to do the job. I'll bet you painted a grim picture of failure. Prison, ruin, separation from you.

“Then Johnny came looking for the money and found nothing. In killing Muriel he got rid of a supposed swindler, but it didn't take him to the money, so he got in touch with you very soon after leaving Muriel dead. What did you do? Play for time? Plead ignorance? No. I'll bet you suggested the noon meeting approach. That would give you time to figure out what to do. Johnny was never very strong in the thinking department, so you gave him a plan. By bringing Gloria into it, you were taking a chance, but it kept Johnny from the answer to the big question. And you needed to keep Johnny dangling in the dark until you could get to Jarman. Did you tell Johnny that Jarman was a pushover for a soft touch? Did you tell him that if Jarman had the money, he would cough it up if Johnny raised his voice a little? You didn't tell him about Jarman's gun.”

“Stop it! I won't hear any more. Sending Bob with a gun just evened the sides. Johnny grew up in a tougher league than Bob. Johnny had all the advantages.”

She was running down, and so was I. Sweat was pouring down my chin, and I could see that her forehead was shining. I caught my breath and called: “Have you got enough, Savas? I'm about played out. I still haven't had a chance to get my pants on.” Chris Savas appeared through the door with another cop in uniform. He nodded at Helen's open mouth, and asked her to get dressed and come down to the station with him. He could have cautioned her right then and there, but I guess he was saving it for some reason. A rather slight police matron pushed by me into the bedroom. The closed door kept the noise down to a dull roar. I took the temporary absence of women for a cue and finally climbed out of Jarman's bathing suit. My own clothes felt better, but I was still feeling far from good.

“I'll need a ride out of here,” I said. Savas agreed. Neither of us looked at each other. The battle continued in the bedroom. Between us we felt like two cents. I couldn't even look one of Gloria's doll pictures in the eye. In about five minutes, the door opened and the matron pushed Helen back into the room, dressed again in the gray dress shed worn earlier in the day. The Liberty scarf somehow got left behind.

THIRTY-THREE

We were back in the café run by Chris's cousin's cousin The room had been cleared and all the tables had been pushed together. Pete was seated opposite me. Chris was next to him. Between us lay the cold wreckage of a whole roast lamb. The bottles of ouzo were scattered here and there and the bouzouki music was loud on the record player. I'd had about four full helpings of lamb and roast potatoes with eggplant and spinach. The rest of the table was filled with Chris's cousins, uncles, and aunts. The owner and chef, Antonaki, wouldn't believe that by now I didn't speak Greek. By the time I was ready to fall asleep in my place, I'd mastered my first Greek words since “eureka.” The toast was “yahsoo,” and I'd learned to describe my feeling of well-fed completeness as “thavma.” Short of that, things were “oréo” or “endaxi.” Every time I used one of the words, somebody laughed. I didn't care so much about that. I was wrestling with a larger problem. It was the ouzo. It should be illegal for hard liquor to taste like candy. Ouzo hit me like a binge of licorice. I was fine so long as I didn't try to get up.

“Yahsoo!” called Savas, across the table, his face bright with sweat and drink.

“Yahsoo, yourself,” I countered. Pete looked like he was going to fall asleep. I tried another roast potato. It was cooked all the way through. My mother's potatoes always manage to trap a belt of mealiness between an envelope of leather and an uncooked core. This was a surprising change.

“This was cooked thieves' style, Benny,” Chris had told me when the lamb came trembling and fragrant to the table an hour earlier.

“Where do the thieves come into it?”

“In the old days, thieves on the run started a fire in a brick oven before daybreak, then they'd clear out the embers, add the food, and let it cook in smokeless safety for the rest of the day.”

“You seem to know a lot about it for a cop,” I said.

“In Cyprus, my family didn't always run to cops. As a matter of fact,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height, “I was named after a very great painter.” I didn't see how that followed exactly, but I didn't dispute it.

“Tell me, Benny,” Pete intoned, leaning across the carcass on the big white platter, “what would you have done if Chris and I'd been out on business when you called for help?”

“I guess I'd have drowned. Don't remind me while I'm eating.”

“And you were right about listening at the girl's door. We didn't need an amplifier, that's for sure.” Chris was chewing on a rib. Somebody called “yahsas.” There was friendly grease on Savas's face. I was feeling full of goodwill and answered “yahsas” back to the other end of the table. Let there be grease on the faces of friends.

“I still can't figure out how you knew that Johnny Rosa'd been holed up at Knudsen's place all that time.” I pretended that I didn't hear him. One of Chris's cousins was giving me the eye. Chris'd told me she was a graphic illustrator. She had nice teeth when she smiled.

We all sat silently for a minute, then we all started talking at once. It was an awkward moment, then Pete took the floor while we went back to staring at our plates.

“Ashland's going to be spending the weekend in the cooler.” I looked up, mildly interested. “He and that excop Handler had a dust-up on St. Andrew Street last night. Right across from your office. They were coming out of the Russell House just after closing time. Ashland tried to put Handler through a plate-glass window. Handler's in the General, and there's somebody waiting outside his room who wants to examine his licence.”

“Couldn't happen to a nicer couple of fellows,” I said.

“Benny, what about Rosa's hiding place?” Pete was on his familiar track again. I ignored him by stuffing my face until he tried a different line.

“And how was it you first suspected Helen Blackwood, Benny?” I pushed my empty plate away from me and looked at the red stubble catching the light on Pete's chin. No wonder he kept a second razor in his desk drawer,

“When George Warren drowned,” I said, “Helen Blackwood jumped into the pool fully clothed and pulled the body up from the bottom and hauled it to the tile deck, just as you would expect of a trusted old family retainer. She did mouth-to-mouth, she had to be dragged away from the old man. She should have been given a medal, mentioned in dispatches, all that. Only a funny thing happened when she jumped into the pool. She didn't lose her contact lenses. She had to have her eyes open to bring up the body, so why didn't she lose them? She told me that she'd had them for three years ‘without a hitch.' She didn't lose them because she wasn't wearing them. And she wasn't wearing them because she knew ahead of time that she was going to have an unscheduled morning swim.”