Suspicion of Innocence (50 page)

"Filthy-minded bitch. I would never do anything like that. Never. You're as sick as your damn sister."

"Renee. Oh, God." She rocked back and forth. "Maybe I am. Maybe. You could tell me." Behind her eyes, Renee's face. She could see her clearly now. Renee's blue eyes. The small mouth, going into a lopsided smile. The single dimple. Perfect skin. Gail opened her eyes, made them focus on a snail shell, then a scrap of leaf. The woods were darker, the colors going gray.

Ben muttered, "Crazy," and his boot tapped her thigh. "Get up, we're leaving."

Then she heard the dogs baying. Barks, then deep snarls. A gun fired, one sharp crack. A yelp. Then two more, quickly. More yelps. Another shot. Then silence.

"Somebody's shooting my damn dogs," Ben said. "Somebody's out there."

Gail stood up on her knees, still dizzy. Ben was listening, head turned to one side. A blackbird flapped away from a pine tree, gave a rasping caw.

Ben grabbed Gail by the arm and dragged her behind some tangled bushes, then went back out for his shotgun. Crouching low, he slid down beside her, pumped a shell into the chamber. He whispered, "Who did you tell we're here? What do they want?"

"I don't know." Her breath stopped, then started. "Edith. I told her." She felt an urge to laugh. "I don't think Edith carries a gun."

"Shut up, let me listen."

Far overhead came the faint rumble of a jet. Birds twittered in the gathering dusk. Then she could hear the shifting of palm fronds, footsteps. Careful, slow.

"I told Mother," Gail whispered, her heart leaping in her chest. "I told her I was coming here with you. Jimmy Panther was going to call her this afternoon."

"Panther." Ben dug two more shells out of his jeans and put them in his shirt pocket. He motioned her toward the ground.

Gail crawled on her stomach to the other side of the bush, then peered through the thick leaves.
 

A man. Dark hair. White shirt, drawn pistol.
 

"Anthony?" She scrambled to her feet.
 

"Gail! Where are you?"
 

Ben yelled, "Drop it!"

Anthony turned. Ben fired. The impact of the shotgun blast spun Anthony into the trunk of a pine tree. He held on, then dropped.

Her ears still ringing, Gail screamed, tore through the underbrush. Ben grabbed the back of her shirt.

"Gail, stop. He's got a gun."

"Why? Why did you shoot him?"

"Listen to me. I had to." Ben dropped the shotgun, gripped her arms. "He was going to kill us. He had a gun."

"No!" Blood was spreading on Anthony's white shirt.

Ben shook her. "He killed Carlos. We were next. Gail, honey. I had to."

"Let go!" Gail pulled away, stumbled a few paces.

Ben swung her to the ground, straddled her hips and pinned her shoulders. She flailed her arms at him. "Gail, listen. Listen. He did Renee, too. It was him. She wanted him, he had to get rid of her. We'll say— Damn it, hold still. We'll say Quintana admitted doing both of them. They'll drop the charges against you."

"Get off! Ben—"

"We're family. We can stick together, Gail. We'll all go to Arcadia. It's going to be all right. I swear."

His shirt was ripped, gaping open. Then she saw it, swinging low on his chest. Gold. A heart. A thin outline of diamonds.

She whispered, "Where . . . did you get that?"

He glanced down.

Gail screamed and tried to roll away.

Ben's weight was on her, bearing down hard. He was reaching for her hands. "Gail, don't. Don't. You don't know how it was. She gave it to me. Out in the yard. She threw it at me, said take it back."

"Liar! She had it when Dave drove her home!" Gail sobbed. "My God. Mother didn't buy it for her. You did. She wanted it and it cost too much. You gave Mother the money. Renee told me that night, her birthday. She knew where it came from. Said don't tell. Don't tell mamma. She was twelve years old!"

"You don't know how it was. You don't know. Gail, she came after me."

"She was a baby!" Gail hit him in the mouth with her fist. "Bastard! You killed her! You killed my sister! You did that to her!"

He pinned her wrists beside her head. His mouth was dark with blood. "Listen to me. You don't know how it was. Please. She knew what she was doing. She wanted me to give her things. Gail, please. I wasn't her father, not her uncle. It was okay. She let me. She wanted it. And I kept her out of trouble. I took care of her and she used me. For years. Years."

"All right." Gail let her body go slack and gasped for breath. Her chest burned. "Yes. I know how she was."

Ben was weeping openly now. "She shut me out. I saved her from prison and she shut me out. That night in the backyard she said she was going to tell. Ruin me if I touched her again. As if it was my fault, what she did. Gail, please. She was bad. Bad."

"Yes. I know." Gail watched him. "We're family. I can't tell. I won't."

He sat back on his heels, his cheeks wet. "Honey, we'll get through this."

"Yes." She slid her legs out from under him. "And Carlos. He deserved it."

Ben nodded, wiping his eyes on the heels of his hands. "I had to. He said I better change my mind back about the property. He said Renee told him things. She told him what we did. Then he said I killed her. He didn't know I had to. I had to."

Trembling, Gail rose to her feet. Ben looked up. And his face slowly changed.

He leaped for her.

She staggered toward his shotgun, grabbed it by the barrel and swung. She heard the crack of wood on bone, felt the impact up her arms. He fell slowly, twisting.

Gail slung the shotgun away and raced to Anthony. In the twilight the stain on his shirt looked black. He moaned when she touched him.

"Anthony! Get up!" She took his face in her hands, saw the blood on it. He opened his eyes. "Get up! Anthony, please."

"Where is he?"

"Over there. I knocked him out."

"Kill him."

"What?"

Anthony grimaced. "Find my gun. Kill him. Do it."

Gail looked back at Ben. "I—It's all right, he's not moving. Come on, it's getting dark. We have to get out of here." She put his arm around her neck, grabbed his wrist, and made him stand.

"¡Ay, cono carajo!"
His knees buckled.

"Dammit, get up!"

His face was sweaty. His right arm hung by his side, blood dripping off the fingers. He leaned on her.
''Bueno. ''

They walked. Slowly around trees, his feet shuffling. She felt the blood on her shirt. Warm, sticky. Her back trembled with the strain of his weight.

"How did you know?"

"Carlos .. . couldn't have. I knew him." Anthony was breathing in shallow gasps. "You were right. Dave didn't. Panther ... no motive. It had to be someone . . . who knew her . . . intimately. I considered the judge . . . days ago. Because I knew Renee. What she was like."

"You didn't tell me."

"I didn't know. Until . . . Carlos. And I thought . . . he could have. When I knew you were alone with him—"

"Who told you?"

"Edith Newell. I called your office . . . your secretary. You cancelled your appointment. Ray didn't know why." Anthony stumbled and she steadied him.

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"I wasn't sure. But you were here—" Anthony sank to his knees.

"Get up!"

Gail could see open ground now. Her car. And Anthony's. Two dark mounds lay beside it. Dogs. Anthony must have shot them. And the third one earlier, closer to the cabin.

"Si me muero antes de—"

"Shut up! You're not going to die!"

"Gail . . .
preciosa. Tu sabes que te amo."

"Yes, yes, I love you too. Now please, get up. The car is right there, I promise."

He murmured things to her in Spanish as they stumbled along the last few yards. She leaned Anthony against the side of her car, held him up with a shoulder in his chest, felt in her pocket. Nothing. "Oh, God. My keys are in the book bag!"

Gail slid her hand down Anthony's thigh and felt the bump of a key chain. She reached inside.

"We're taking your car," she said, putting his arm over her shoulder. "I really didn't want to get blood on mine anyway. You're making such a mess."

''Tengo sueño. ''

"Forget it. You're not going to sleep here," she said. "Move."

She walked him the ten feet or so to the right door of his Cadillac. When she let him go to unlock the car, he dropped like a stone. She flung open the door and popped the locks. The interior lights went on, illuminating soft gray leather. She found the seat adjustment and laid it back.

"Get up!" She pulled Anthony's arms. He groaned. "I know, baby, I don't want to hurt you. Get in the car. Come on.

She heard Ben's voice. "Gail!" He was weeping. "Gail, don't."

For an instant she froze, then shoved Anthony into the seat. He pitched over. She lifted in his legs.

"Gail!"

She slammed the door, ran around the back end of the car. She could see him now, a movement in the darkness. Nearly there.

She opened the door. The lights came on and she saw Ben's face. Bloody. Renee's necklace on his chest, in the matted gray hair. He reached for her.

"Gail, honey. Don't."

She screamed, pushed against him. He staggered backward. She got in, slammed the door, hit the lock.

"Nobody will believe you! You've got no proof!" Ben's hands were leaving streaks on the glass.

She fumbled with the keys, finding the right one, her fingers slick and red. "Come on, come on." She put the key in the ignition, turned.

"I didn't do anything!" He pounded on the window. "Nobody will believe you!"

Gail slammed it into gear and gunned the engine.

Twenty-Six

Standing at the door to Anthony's room, Gail recognized one of the two women at the foot of his bed. Elena, his cousin.

"Come in, he's awake."

His bed was cranked up and he smiled at her. Gail crossed the room. He looked better than the day before, she thought. They had taken the breathing tube off and unhooked the intravenous. His right shoulder, arm, and chest were still heavily bandaged. He had a gauze patch on his cheek. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the other one.

"You smell delicious," she said.

"Elena just shaved me," he said. "Elenita, I think you nicked my chin."

She made a face at him, then introduced Gail to the other woman—her mother—and to the older couple sitting in armchairs by the window—more relatives.

Gail put her purse down on the bedside table. The hospital room looked more like a well-appointed bedroom, except for the raised bed and the dials and outlets in the wall behind him. Flowers took up every square inch of the dresser and window ledge.

''Elenita, mi amor, danos unos minutos solos. ''

The older couple got up and the women followed out the door.

"You didn't have to ask them to leave," Gail said. "It's all right. Anyway, they've been here all day." "When I came yesterday you were asleep." "I missed you," he said. Gail kissed his mouth.

He sighed. "Yes. Better." He took her hand. "You're here in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Karen has a play at school tonight I want to go to. We're moving back home this weekend. Trying to get our lives back to normal."

Anthony looked at her for a few moments, then asked, "How far back to normal?"

She smiled. "Dave's living at the marina, if that's what you mean."

He raised her hand to his lips. "Have you told Karen about Ben?"

"As much as she'll understand right now. She asked where he was. I had to tell her we don't know."

Anthony said, "I hope you don't drive anywhere by yourself at night."

"I'm not worried."

''I worry for you,' ' he said.

Gail moved a magazine so she could sit on the edge of his bed. "I was looking at a vacant office just now," she said. "It's on Sunset Drive, not too far from my house. Tempting."

"Oh? You've decided, then?"

She shook her head. "Not completely. It's too big a move to decide so quickly. I'm just window shopping for now."

"George Sanchez's office is empty," Anthony said. She laughed. "No. I wouldn't get anything done with you around."

Someone rapped at the open door. "Hey, buddy." It was Frank Britton. He nodded at Gail. "Ms. Connor."

She had seen Britton three times since last Friday, twice in Ray Hammell's presence.

He nodded at Anthony's bandages. "Looks like you're going to make it,
amigo."

"So it appears."