Bannerman's Law (68 page)

Authors: John R. Maxim

“
David, you never said a word
.”
'

”
I would have if you weren't sure. See? I give you
credit. Try it sometime, Lesko.”

Lesko grunted.

“
Anyway, in this whole thing, not one person was ever
a hundred percent right about anything
.''

“
I
know
.''

“
In fact, the only one who knew what he was doing
was that Dommerich kid. And things only made sense to
him because he was nuts
.''

This was another thing that bothered Lesko. A part of him had been rooting for that kid. Another part felt sorry
for him.
“
David? How did he get away with it? For so
long, I mean
.''

“
Now you're asking my opinion
?”

'
‘
Forget it
.''

“
The answer i
s
who looks at pizza deliverers? If you
see a stranger out in the hall, you wonder. If he
's
wearing
a pizza hat, you don
't.''

“
I
guess. Yeah
.''

“
Even if the cops warn you, watch out for strangers,
who'd worry about a pizza kid if he stopped and asked
for directions
?”

“
Yeah. Right
.”

“
In college towns, lots of girls hitch rides back to the
campus with pizza kid
s
because they know that's where
they're headed
.”

This had never occurred to Lesko. He hated it when that
happened.
“
David, damn it, how would you know that
?”

“
It just figures. Or the pizza kid pulls up to some girl
and tells her she shouldn't be out walking alone with this
nut on the loose. He's only a pizza kid, right? So she hops
in
.''

“
Yeah
.”

And the kid knew it, thought Lesko. Poor sick bastard.
People probably looked right through him all his life. With
the hat on, they probably never even saw him
.

Lesko wondered if he'd ever feel the same about order
ing pizza.

₅₇

Ca
rl
a gave the eulogy.

She stood before a packed church, one arm around her
father. Yesterday, he'd rushed to her side. Today he
couldn't talk. He just clinged to her.

Carla held together reasonably well but she was taking
care not to look at the closed white casket in the center
aisle.

She told what Lisa meant to her, how Lisa had embod
ied almost all that was good and decent and loving in her
life. George Benedict began to cry. Carla actually kissed
his hand.

There must have been three hundred people in the
church. About half were students from USC
.
Kevin the
weightlifter in a st
r
etched-out suit. DiDi Fene
r
ty came with
her parents but she sat with Molly. The bodyguards were
there. They weren't needed. They just wanted
to come.

The other half consisted of neighbors, friends from out
of town, two carloads of Russians, probably all KGB, and
the contingent from Westpo
r
t, which had grown to four
teen. Andy Huff came with several detectives. He sat with Lesko and Elena. Roger Clew arrived late and stood, un
comfortably, in the rear until Banne
r
man welcomed him
with a nod and motioned him to a pew. John Waldo wan
dered outside, looking in through the doors occasionally.

DiDi had tried to say a few words. She couldn't finish.
Molly had to go up and read the rest from DiDi's notes.

Susan, her expression glazed, wept quietly throughout.
Bannerman held her hand. He knew that not all the tears
were for Lisa.

The service aside, she seemed much better today. A long talk with Elena had helped. Then he'd taken her to
the Venice beach so that she could feel life and warmth
all around her. He made her eat something and urged her
not to watch the news. She did anyway.

One program said that a journal had been found. It
recorded the six college girl murders and a total of ten
others, including several men, over a five-year period, his
parents being the first. The final entry had been made on
the last day of his life. It mentioned Hickey by name. It
described Harry Bunce.

Hearing all this helped Susan after all. It helped her
come to terms with having put him out of his misery. God knows how many future victims were spared.

They all, except Ca
rl
a, spent the night at
Belkin's
safe
house where no reporter could find them. Carla stayed at
her father's house.

Carla would not be coming back, she told Bannerman.
Not right away. She would stay with her father for a while.
He'd told her that Yuri w
a
s welcome there as well, after he was discharged from the hospital, to convalesce until he was able to travel.

Then, she thought, she would take him home. Back to
Bern, where he was stationed. Leo Belk
i
n had already
given permission. She said there was a girl, named Maria,
who lived in Z
u
rich. She played the cello. Yuri was in
love with her. Carla said she wanted to go and visit her,
try to help things along. Elena seemed to think she knew
the girl. Or of her. A young widow, husband killed in a

training accident, left with an infant daughter. Elena was
sure she had seen her play. She would arrange an introduc
tion, perhaps lunch at her villa, where Ca
rl
a would stay
when she comes to Z
u
rich.

John Waldo slipped into the churc
h
during the singing
of a hymn. The last pew on the right was empty. He found
himself standing directly behind Roger Clew.

This gave him dark thoughts. He moved farther to his right. He could also see better now, because he was stand
ing behind a little old lady. She heard him fumbling with the hymnal. She dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief,
then turned to show him th
e
correct page. She smiled. Nice
lady, he
thought. Nice face.

The couple sitting with her glanced back, first the man,
then the woman. Waldo might not have noticed except
that the man, big guy, had nudged the woman.

The man looked familiar.

Oh, yeah.

The last time Waldo saw him, he was a doctor. Wore
glasses. Pipe in his mouth. Except he looked familiar then,
too. Waldo noticed a fairly recent scar behind his ear.
Another one under the jawline.

The hymn ended and they sat. The priest was getting
communion ready. People started whispering to each other.
It must be, thought Waldo, that you don
'
t have to be quiet
now. He leaned forward.

“
Hi
,”
he said.

The man smiled and nodded, keeping his eyes on the
altar.

“
Yo
u
remind me of someone
,”
said Waldo.

“
George Bancroft
,”
said the old lady, turning.

“
Who
?”

“
George Bancroft
,”
she said softly.
“
The actor
.”

“
O
h
, yeah
,”
he whispered.
“
Gangster movies. Years
ago
.”

The old lady reminded him of someone, too. She was
probably on that bus where they thought he was one of
the patients. That still bothered him. He leaned forward again toward the lady.

“
Do I look real old to you
?”
he asked.

She pursed her lips.
“
Not so very
.”

“
How old? Make a guess
.”

Nellie studied him.
“
Not more than eighty, I think.
More like seventy-five
?”

Waldo grunted. He was nowhere near that.

Not real near.

That did it, he thought. He knew what he was going
to do. He was going to get a face-lift.

They could laug
h
at him if they wanted. But lots of
men do it. This big guy did it, and now he looks like
an actor.

He would tell Banne
r
ma
n
that he wants to stick around
for a while. Get it done here, because Los Angeles is
probably where all the best cutters are. Maybe talk Billy
into doing it, too.
McHugh's
not getting any prettier.

Outside, after church, he would ask this guy for the
name of his cutter and how much it costs. Maybe he'd
bring Bannerman over. Get this guy to help him tell Ban
nerman why it's a good idea.

Yes.

That's exactly what he'd do.

End

Praise for John R. Maxim

Maxim knows how to pull his readers in
.”

Chicago T
ri
bune

“
No one does better characterization

or plotting than Maxim
.”

Linda Howard

”
A page-turner
.
.
.
Readers may need to take

blood pressure pills
.” (The Shadow Box)

People Magazine