"I see you have a hacksaw," Pac said.
"You've got wonderful eyesight."
"What do you use it for?"
"I saw heads off with it."
"Try answering me straight, Bass."
"Try asking me a smart question. Of course I've got a hacksaw. As you can see, I have lots of tools. And I'd be willing to bet that that isn't the hacksaw somebody used on Alison Parkington."
"It isn't. We have that saw." Pac stepped past him. She turned her head, keeping an eye on him as she crossed the garage to the freezer chest. She pulled its handle. Locked. "Would you mind opening this for me?"
"Think I've got a body hidden in there?"
"I don't know what to think. But you're acting weird and you lied about the brakes. And why the hell have you got the windows covered like that?"
"I just like a little privacy."
"Come here and open the freezer."
"Open it yourself," he said. "The key's on top of the refrigerator."
The top of the refrigerator was above Pac's eye level. She switched the .380 to her left hand. Without taking her eyes off Bass, she reached up and patted the dusty metal surface. As she searched, a drop of sweat slid down from her armpit, trickling down her bare side all the way to her hip where it encountered her dress. At last, her fingers touched a key ring. She pulled it down. A single, small key dangled from the ring.
It fit into the freezer's lock.
"Are you sure you want to know what's in there, Pac?" His grin was smart. "Are you sure you'll be able to live with it? Seeing it over and over again in your nightmares?"
"I'll manage," she said and raised the freezer top.
Through curling white clouds of vapor, she saw cartons of ice cream, a stack of TV dinners, several small packs of white paper bearing the colored tape seals of a local butcher, possibly a dozen aluminum foil packs that she assumed contained fish, and a turkey.
Turning sideways so she could keep an eye on Bass, she bent over the freezer and reached down with her right arm. And felt the front of her gown fall away from her body a few inches like a boat sail catching a breeze.
Where Bass was standing -- over to the left but a few paces in front of her -- she doubted that he could see much.
Glancing away from him, she looked down into the freezer and shoved some of the packages around.
"Ghastly, huh?" Bass asked.
Pac shut the freezer. She returned the key to the top of the refrigerator.
"Why don't you check the fridge, too?"
"I was about to do just that." The refrigerator had no lock. She looked inside. It held mostly beer and soft drinks. She shut its door.
"No body? Geez, I hate to disappoint you, Pac. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful."
She walked alongside his car, peering into the windows.
"If I'd known you wanted a body so much, maybe I could've bought you one. Do you think we could send out for one? Like a pizza? Maybe there's an all-night mortuary that delivers."
At the rear of Bass's big red Pontiac, Pac saw that its trunk lid was held down by three strips of wide, gray duct tape.
"Why'd you tape your trunk shut?" she asked.
"It hasn't worked right ever since --"
"You never taped it before."
"It started popping open. Is there a law against taping your trunk shut?"
"Would you like to open it for me?"
"Sure. Why not?"
She stepped backward as Bass approached. Turning away from her, he bent down and started to peel the duct tape off the lid of the trunk. It made sounds like ripping cloth. He left each strip attached at the bottom, hanging over the rear bumper.
When he was done, the trunk remained shut.
He pounded the lid with his hand. It jumped under the impact, then started to rise.
He stepped out of the way.
Springs lifted the trunk lid.
Inside the trunk, the naked body of a woman was curled on its side. It ended at the shoulders. The head rested face up against her belly.
Pac heard herself gasp.
Before she could move, the back of Bass's fist struck her nose and she was walking backward, falling.
Chapter Forty-nine
The Man At The Bend
"Did you recognize the killer?" Rusty asked. He stood beside the open passenger door of his patrol car, crouching slightly to see Merton better. Merton, handcuffed, sat sideways on the back seat with his legs hanging toward the ground.
"I'm not sure my lawyer wants me to answer that," he said.
"Your lawyer isn't here."
"Well, why don't we wait until he is?"
"I'm in something of a hurry, Merton."
"Tough shit."
"I can get you for contributing, possession, dealing, breaking and entering, assault and battery on Ina Jones, the attempted murder of Bass Paxton. . . . And it shouldn't be any trick at all to nail you for the murder of Alison Parkington."
"I didn't kill that bitch."
"That's not what Walter said."
"Walter's full of shit."
"Look, Mert, I had my ear to your window. I heard your whole spiel to the kid." Rusty nodded toward Bill, who was sitting in the front seat of the patrol car. "It sounded like the truth, to me. But if we can't hang it on the fellow with the moonlit, gleaming skin, we'll hang it on you. So try to cooperate."
"I knew you'd be a bastard about this. I should've dumped those creeps who saw me. You wouldn't have shit."
"Which reminds me . . . Where's Faye Everett?"
"Who's that?"
"The blonde who was with Bass this morning by the river."
"Yesterday morning."
"Whatever. Where is she?"
"Got no idea. I've been looking for her myself."
"What about your gleaming killer? What did he look like?"
"I couldn't see very well."
"It didn't sound that way when you were talking to Bill."
"I couldn't see his face. It was night you know, and I was all the way on the other side of the river."
"What could you see?"
"He had a nice body on him. I'd say he was young. Had a good build."
"How young?"
"Maybe mid-twenties."
"How tall?"
"Who knows? Maybe six feet. Maybe six-two, six-three. Probably a couple hundred pounds or more. He had good-looking muscles."
"What color was his hair?"
"Dark. Brown or black, I guess."
"Was his hair long or short?"
"Medium."
"Facial hair?"
"I couldn't see well enough."
"Did you hear him speak?"
"No."
"Anything unusual about him?"
"Unusual? Sure. He fucked a babe and sawed her head off. I'd say that's unusual." Merton laughed softly.
"What did he do with the head?"
"After he cut it off? He wrapped it up. In his shirt, I think. Then he knelt down in the sand. He started digging. I figured he was going to bury it, but he didn't. What he buried was the saw. And some clothes or something. Then he got dressed and took the head with him."
"Where?"
"Up the trail. He must've had a car at the top. Pretty soon, I heard him drive off."
"You're sure he took the head with him?"
"He had it as long as I saw him. Carried it by the hair. He sort of swung it back and forth beside him."
Frowning, Rusty muttered, "Strange."
"You're telling me."
He looked into Merton's eyes. "It's strange because we have a witness who saw you with the head. He says you swam back across the river with it this morning."
"Who's this, Paxton?"
"That's right."
"If he said that, he lied. Now why do you suppose he'd lie about a thing like that? You think maybe he's the killer? Could be. Yeah, could be Paxton. He might be the guy I saw. Has that nice build . . ."
"Pull in your feet." Rusty threw the door shut and ran to his side of the car. He climbed in and turned the key in the ignition.
"Where are we going?" Bill asked from the passenger seat.
Ignoring him, Rusty lifted his radio mike. "Car One to headquarters." The car lurched forward, its headlights reaming the darkness.
"Go ahead, Car One."
"Any available units in the vicinity of Malfi Drive?"
"The nearest is Tac Four answering a four fifteen at one six three eight Harding."
"Won't do us any good. I'll handle it."
Chapter Fifty
Bloody But Unbowed
Pac, sprawled on the cool concrete, watched Bass search her purse. He pulled out her handcuffs.
"Where's Faye?" she asked. Her nose was blocked with blood and she sounded as if she had a cold.
"Didn't you recognize her?" Bass asked.
"That wasn't Faye."
"Why thank you. That's the nicest thing you've said all day. I appreciate it."
He stuffed the handcuffs into a rear pocket of his jeans. Bending over Pac, he picked up both her wrists. She neither helped nor resisted as he pulled her to a sitting position, but when blood began trickling from her nose she tried to pull a hand free to wipe it. Bass held her wrists more tightly. She sniffed, but the blood continued to spill. She licked it off her upper lip and tilted back her head.
"I couldn't just murder Faye," Bass said, sounding pleased with himself. "Christ, any halfwit would figure I'm the guy with the best motive for that."
"What motive?" Pac asked, and licked more blood.
"What do you think? She was stepping out on me, dropping her pants for that bastard Parkington." Releasing one of Pac's wrists, he scurried around behind her with the other and fastened the cuffs. "The bitch should've known better," he said. "I forgave her for fucking around with that asshole in Burlingame last time, didn't I? Gave her a second chance. So what does she do? She starts fucking around with her fucking summer school professor!" He grabbed Pac's other arm and jerked it back behind her. "She blew it. No third chances, Pac. She had to die. But she wasn't gonna take me with her. No way. No way at all."
"So you hired Merton LeRoy to kill her?"
Bass laughed. Pac felt his warm burst of breath on the back of her neck. "I never saw that queer till this morning," he said. "Guess that was yesterday morning, now, huh? He sure came in handy, though. My God, when I saw him lying there with the Parkington bitch, I almost believed he'd killed her."
"You killed her?"
"Sure. I needed a body for my big plan."
"What big plan?"
"Any body would've done, as long as it had blond hair." Pac felt a hand stroke the hair on the back of her head. "Yours would've done fine. I would've had to cut your hair, of course. Faye's is so much shorter than yours. But you would've done fine. I gave you some hard consideration at first. But then I found out that Parkington's wife was a blonde. So much better, using her. That way, I wouldn't just be killing Faye, I'd be getting back at the good professor who fucked her. If he gave any sort of shit at all about his wife, that would hurt him."
"It did," Pac said. She licked her upper lip. There didn't seem to be as much blood as before.
"That Alison was a beautiful woman," Bass muttered. "And wild. She jumped at my idea of a midnight rendezvous. So beautiful. She thought I was hot stuff, too. Hell, I am hot stuff. Don't you think so, Pac?"
"You're not my type," she said.
She tensed as his hands came down on her bare shoulders. "Sure I am. I'm every woman's type."
"Sure."
His hands began rubbing Pac's shoulders in a slow, deliberate way. "That Alison was one eager beaver. She jumped at the chance to have a little fun with me in the middle of the night. I ended up enjoying it, myself. She was a really beautiful gal. Only not so beautiful by the time Faye got to see her. That was part of Faye's punishment -- give her a look at a naked, headless corpse. It was also part of the big plan. After a sight like that, it was perfectly reasonable for Faye to make a blind dash for her folks' place -- or for any place. Right? Just to get away. Ina bought it. You bought it. Everyone bought it.
"Before you know it, Faye's car is going to turn up in San Francisco. Just her car. Right now, it's nicely hidden at the marina. I drove it down this afternoon, all loaded with her luggage. I'll leave it there till things calm down a little, then I'll drive it to San Francisco."
Bass slid his hands from Pac's shoulders to the back of her neck. He pulled slowly on the tied cords.
"When they find her car, they'll figure Faye made it to the Bay Area, after all. Maybe she was on the way to her parents' house and ran into some sort of trouble. They'll probably search high and low for her, but they'll never find her. Never never never."
Pac felt the cords come loose. The front of her gown fell, leaving her naked to the waist.
"Rusty put out an APB on that car," she said, her voice shaking. "You try to drive it anywhere, you'll be picked up."
"Oh, I'll make it. I changed the license plates." He kissed the side of her neck. His breath tickling her skin, he said, "I'll just put Faye's own plates back on after I'm there."
"Real smart," Pac muttered.
"I'm a very smart guy. And a hunk."
"And a comedian," Pac said.
He slipped his arms around her. His hands took hold of her breasts.
Fucking bastard.
Stay calm, she told herself. Just take it easy.
"What did you do to Faye?" she asked.
"Didn't you see her in the trunk?"
"That wasn't Faye."
"Like I said, thanks. But you're wrong. That is Faye. Minus a few parts. Like her fingers. Like her tongue. Like her nipples." He pinched Pac's nipples.
She flinched and gasped, "Ow! Don't!"
"Like a few other choice parts of her. They're down the garbage disposal. And like her head."
"Her head?"
"She's minus her head. I didn't put it down the disposal, though. Wouldn't fit." He laughed. "Her poor little noggin got run over tonight by an eighteen-wheeler out on Highway Forty."
"That was Faye's head?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Because I put it in the road. Did it right after that queer smashed Ina on the head and chased me around."
He jerked Pac's hair, pulling her down backward to the garage floor.
She lay on her arms. The sharp edges of her handcuffs bit into her wrists and lower back.