Dead Letter (Digger) (20 page)

"Is he…is he there?"

"He’s gone. Don’t worry, he won’t get far," Digger said.

He came back toward her and she fell into his arms.

"Ohhh, Digger…." she said.

"You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?"

"No, no, I’m not hurt. I’m just scared. Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah, but we’ve got to be careful," Digger said. He took off his soaked jacket and put it around her shoulders, then steered her toward the back door of the house.

Digger led them away from the old farmhouse, but through the field, parallel to the road. He remembered the small bridge he and Buehler had crossed over and he was certain that they would reach the small stream if they kept going in this direction.

With a frightened Allie alongside him, he did not want to chance going right back to the road, in case young Gilligan was lying in wait for them.

The rain pelted on them and Digger felt the chill biting into his bones. He put his arm around Allie’s shoulders, as much to warm himself as her.

Then the wild grass seemed to fall away and the land began to slope. At the bottom of a small gulley, Digger could hear the stream running. He turned them toward the right, back in the direction of the roadway. The grass was shorter and the storm was lessening and so they moved more speedily than he expected they would. Then up ahead, he saw flashing red lights.

Damn, he thought. He’d had Buehler tell Terlizzi no sirens, no flashing lights, and it looked like a goddam discotheque up ahead.

But as they burst out of the heavy grass into sight of the roadway, Digger saw that the lights came from a tow truck and a state trooper’s car.

Across the roadway, he saw the yellow Pinto. It was split almost in half by the concrete and steel railing of the small bridge.

He helped Allie up onto the roadway. Across the street, he saw a body lying on the ground, and kneeling next to the body was Dr. Arlo Buehler. Standing behind him was a state trooper.

Buehler stood up, turned to the trooper, and shook his head. Digger turned Allie away from the scene and started walking across the bridge toward the Village Inn just a few dozen yards away. Then Buehler caught up to them.

"Allie, this is my friend, Doctor Buehler."

"Was it Danny? Is he dead?" she asked.

"Yes," Buehler said. "I’m sorry. He lost control of the car and slammed into the bridge at full speed. He died instantly. I’m sorry."

Digger felt Allie shudder.

"Arlo, you got anything in your car for this lady?" he asked. They were at the parking lot of the Village Inn.

"Sure. Over here," Buehler said.

Digger helped Allie into the back seat of the car while the doctor opened the trunk. He came out with a heavy wool blanket which he wrapped around the young woman. From his doctor’s bag, he drew a small bottle of fruit brandy and forced her to drink right from the bottle. In the meantime, Digger had started the car’s engine and had the heater running full blast.

"Terlizzi?" Digger asked.

"He hasn’t arrived yet," Buehler said. "I told him to meet me here."

"You can never find a cop when you need one," Digger said.

The negotiation took place ten minutes later in the front seat of Terlizzi’s car, parked in the lot of the Village Inn.

"An accident?" Terlizzi said.

"Yep, that’s what I said," Digger said. "Poor Danny Gilligan got killed in a car crash. That tavern owner was killed in a fall. Poor Professor Redwing was killed by a hit-and-run driver. We can just let it all go at that. There won’t be any more chain letters and no more death threats."

"Let it go at that, my ass," Terlizzi snapped. The inside of the car was thick with his cigar smoke. "Your note said Gilligan was the killer."

"No, it didn’t," Digger said. "I meant that he wrote those notes. Poor, disturbed kid. I don’t know anything about his killing anybody."

"You’re a fucking liar," Terlizzi said.

"I know that and you know that. But nobody else has to know anything. Least of all, the press. School is closing down next week. All those little Waldo students and teachers will be leaving. No one will give a damn about Redwing. He’s dead, let him rest."

"Not a chance. I’m bringing this whole thing before a grand jury and let the truth come out," Terlizzi said.

Digger shrugged and lit a cigarette in self-defense. "If I go before a grand jury, I’ll tell them everything," he said.

"That’s right."

"I’ll tell them how you stole a college official’s office keys to aid and abet me in a burglary. How, with your connivance, I broke into secret psychological files of students and teachers at the school. I couldn’t leave anything out, could I?"

Terlizzi smoked some more.

"You realize you’re a fucking blackmailer?" he said.

"The best," Digger admitted.

"If I ever catch you in Boston again, Burroughs, your ass is going to be in a sling."

"That’s a deal," Digger said. He started out of the car, then turned and reached in his hand to clap Terlizzi on the shoulder.

"Lieutenant," he said. "Thanks."

"Go fuck yourself."

Allison Stevens, frightened but not hurt, was sleeping in Room 309 of the Copley Arms Hotel. Arlo Buehler had give her a sedative, and then gone downstairs to the hotel’s cocktail lounge for some serious drinking.

When he was convinced that she would stay asleep, Digger dialed Room 718.

Evvie Buehler’s sleepy voice answered.

"Hello."

"This is Julian," Digger said.

"I don’t know what I like less. Your standing me up or your calling me at this godawful hour of the morning."

"I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important."

"Where are you?"

"Downstairs," he said.

"Come on up."

Evvie had on a light robe when she opened the door to let Digger in.

She looked at his bedraggled wet clothing and said, "I wouldn’t have chewed you out if I knew you swam the English Channel to keep our date."

"Sit down," he said. "I want you to listen to something."

"Okay," she said, with a tolerant, amused smile on her face.

"You love your husband?" Digger asked suddenly.

She hesitated. "Yes, but…"

"No buts," Digger said. "Shut up and sit there."

From one pocket of his jacket, Digger brought out his miniature tape recorder. From an inside pocket, he produced a micro-cassette. He inserted it into the tape machine and then pressed the "play" button.

His own voice was first.

"Are you still in love with Evvie?" he said.

Arlo Buehler’s voice answered: "Of course I’m in love with Evvie. She always showed up at the hospital when she was supposed to, not like some people I know. Of course I love her. I always loved her, from the first day I stole her away from you."

"Nobody else?" Digger asked.

"Never. Nobody."

"You want her back?" Digger’s voice said.

"Julian, I don’t want to live without her. Evvie’s my whole life and the longer she’s away, the more I know it. I’m very tired, Julian, and I have to lie down."

"You’re drinking too much," Digger’s voice said.

"What else is there?"

Digger turned off the tape recorder and looked at Evvie on the sofa. Tears were streaming down her beautiful model’s face.

"You had enough?" Digger said.

She nodded. "Oh, Julian, I’ve hurt him, haven’t I?"

"Nothing you can’t repair," Digger said.

"Can I call him now?" she said.

"I can do you one better," Digger said. "Throw on a dress."

She got up and walked to the closet. A dress hung on a hook inside the door.

"That’s fine. Put it on."

Goaded by Digger, she was dressed in less than two minutes.

"My face looks like hell. Where are we going?"

"Your face looks like a million dollars plus interest," Digger said. "Come on."

He took her arm, brought her downstairs in the elevator, and led her into the cocktail lounge where Arlo Buehler sat alone at the bar, a Scotch double in front of him. Digger tapped him on the shoulder.

"I finally found you a broad, Arlo," he said.

Buehler turned and when he saw his wife, his face lost ten years in age. He stood up.

"Evvie," he said.

She came into his arms. "Arlo," she said. "I’ve missed you so much."

"Let’s go home," he said.

"The place is yours," Digger said. "I’m staying here tonight." And he clapped Buehler on the shoulder. "No charge, Doc," he said.

Chapter Sixteen

Koko woke up like a cat. She stretched and seemed to luxuriate in the coming-alive of her body, before she moved. Then, naked, she slipped out from under the sheet on the big king-size bed. She leaned back over the bed and licked Digger’s face.

"I’m going to make breakfast," she said.

"You
are
breakfast," he said as he reached for her.

"Uh, uh," she said, shaking her head. "I was a midnight snack and I’ll be lunch, but breakfast is going to be eggs over light, juice, coffee, hard roll, and home fries."

She slipped away from his lunge and he said, "Well, I guess it’ll have to do until something better comes along."

"I guess it will," she said.

He watched her as she walked, naked, from the bedroom, her lean, young body unendurably beautiful. Screw Boston, he thought. There was no place like home, even if home was Las Vegas.

The telephone rang and he picked it up.

"Digger, this is Frank Stevens."

"Hello, my leader, Mr. President, Sir. What are you doing up so early?"

"It’s noon in New York. Get your ass out of bed."

"Did you call to complain about my sleep habits?" Digger asked.

"No. I called to say thanks. I didn’t really get to say thanks after you came back from Boston last month."

"Yeah, you did," Digger said.

"No, I didn’t. I’m the fucking boss. Stop contradicting me."

"Okay, you didn’t, you goddam ingrate," Digger said.

"Anyway, Allie told me everything."

"Everything?" Digger asked. He sat up in bed.

"About how her boyfriend got killed in that car accident and you helped her not be depressed. I appreciate that, Digger."

"Oh, that. It wasn’t anything."

"Yes, it was," Stevens insisted. "Allie’s led a sheltered life. Her first boyfriend dying like that, even if it was just a schoolgirl romance, well…I’m glad you were there to help her over the rough spots."

"So was I," Digger said.

"That’s all I called to say," Stevens said. "Listen, Allison wants to talk to you. I’ll get her."

"Okay."

A few moments later, the warm voice of Allison Stevens sounded over the line.

"Hello, Digger."

"Hi, kid. How you doing?"

"All right."

"Is your father gone? Can you talk?"

"Sure," she said.

"I don’t know how you do it," Digger said. "You’ve still got him snowed."

"Thanks to you for not handing me up," she said.

"You’re welcome, I think."

"Daddy said he never thanked you properly. Neither did I."

"Thanks accepted."

"That’s not exactly what I had in mind. I’m all recovered now, Digger. I thought that maybe someday I might just sneak out to Las Vegas for a weekend. Kind of thank you in person."

Digger said, "You trying to get me fired?" even as he was picturing her in his mind. Her beautiful warm body, the fire-hot hair, the face that exuded joy.

"No," she said. "Just fired up. How about it?"

"Well, maybe someday."

"That’s good enough for now," Allie said.

"Give my best to your father," Digger said. "And take care of yourself."

"I will. Bye, Digger."

Digger replaced the telephone, just as Koko, still without clothes, came back into the bedroom.

"Breakfast’s on," she said. "Who was that?"

"Some beautiful woman, calling to seduce me," he said.

"What’d you tell her?"

"That she had the wrong number," Digger said.

Koko nodded, lifted up a corner of the sheet, and slipped into bed.

"On second thought," she said, "maybe eggs over light, juice, coffee, hard roll, and home fries, can wait."

"Come here, Breakfast," Digger said. "But go easy on my body. I haven’t had my annual physical yet."