F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (13 page)

           
"Sister?"

           
"Yes. Kelly Wade."

           
The man glanced around, looking
indecisive. Then he took a deep breath and looked directly at Kara.

           
"Yes. I knew her. It's just
terrible about her… about what happened to her."

           
"Did you know her well?"

           
"No. Just a little. Hardly at
all."

           
Kara's hopes fell. This fellow
wasn't going to be any help.

           
"Do you live here?" she
asked.

           
"Uh, no. I was just coming by
to, uh, see if there was any family around so that I could express my
condolences."

           
"I'm family."

           
"Yeah. I can tell." He
managed a quick, nervous smile. "You could be her twin."

           
"I am."

           
Another quick smile, little more
than a flicker. "No wonder. The resemblance is spooky."

           
"And this is my daughter,
Kelly's niece."

           
"How do you do," he said
to Jill, and Kara immediately liked him for speaking directly to the child.
"I'm terribly sorry about what happened to your sister," he told
Kara. "I… I wish there was something I could say."

           
An idea occurred to Kara. This
fellow seemed like a harmless sort, and genuinely upset by Kelly's death. He
was the only person Kara had met today who knew Kelly; maybe he could give her
some insight into her sister's life in
New York
before the end.

           
"We were just going out for a
bite to eat. Want to come along?"

           
As long as they stayed in a public
place like a restaurant, what harm was there?

           
"Oh, no," he said,
quickly. "I've got to be going."

           
"Okay," Kara said and
started down the steps with Jill at her side. "Good night, then."

           
They were on the sidewalk and on
their way to the corner when he trotted up behind them.

           
"Maybe just for a few
minutes."

           
"Fine," said Kara. She
held out her hand. "I'm Kara Wade, by the way."

           
He shook it and seemed to fumble for
his own name.

           
"Ed," he said finally,
"Ed Bannion."

           
"I met her at
St. Vincent
's," Ed was saying. "She took such
special care of my mother when she had complications after her gallbladder
surgery. I was very impressed with her."

           
They were seated near the window on
the second floor of Pancho Villa's. Kara licked the salt off the rim of her
margarita and watched the rush hour traffic thicken in the growing darkness
outside. Jill was next to her, dipping tortilla chips into the bowl of salsa
and listening to the strolling guitar player singing two tables away. Ed sat
across from her, sipping his own margarita.

           
Now that they were inside and in the
light, Kara saw that he was a fairly good looking man, late thirties, with
thinning brown hair. He might have been more attractive if he weren't so tired
looking. There were dark circles under his eyes; he seemed tense.

           
"You don't work at the
hospital, then?" Kara said.

           
"Oh, no. Why do you ask?"

           
"I thought you might be a
doctor."

           
"Actually, I'm a lawyer."

           
"How well did you know
Kelly?"

           
"Not well at all,
unfortunately. We had lunch together a few times. I liked her a lot." He
shrugged. "It might have developed into something more, but…"

           
Kara nodded.
But Kelly's time was cut short
.

           
Ed said, "I sensed she was a
very special person, but I know hardly anything about her. What can you tell
me?"

           
Kara told him about Kelly's passion
for mystery novels and 60's folk rock, how her favorite thing was to lie on her
couch munching Dorito chips while reading John D. MacDonald and listening to
the Byrds or the Lovin' Spoonful. She liked middle period van Gogh paintings
and old Tracy and Hepburn movies. Jill added in her own anecdotes about her
best times with her Aunt Kelly.

           
Ed listened attentively. If
anything, he appeared puzzled, as if he wasn't hearing what he expected.

           
Then it was their turn for the
strolling guitarist. He stepped up to their table and wanted to know if they
had any requests. He was dressed as a caballero and wore a huge sombrero. Kara
was about to say no when Jill piped up and asked for the only Mexican song she
knew.

           
"La Bamba!" she said.

           
Kara and Ed listened politely while
the singer ran through the song. He offered a more traditional rendition than
the Richie Valens-Los Lobos version Jill was used to, but she seemed enthralled
nonetheless.

           
During the song, Kara realized that
this encounter was not going the way she had hoped. Ed knew less about Kelly's
New York life than Kara did. The information was flowing the wrong way. But at
the moment she didn't see a way out.

           
The three of them clapped when the
guitarist finished. He added a nice accent to the restaurant's ambience, but
Kara was glad to see him move on to another table.

           
"Can I go over and listen,
Mom?" Jill said.

           
"Sure," Kara told her.
"Just don't get in his way."

           
Ed smiled as he watched her go.
"Looks like that singer has got himself a fan."

           
"Jill loves music," Kara
said. "So did Kelly."

           
"What a shame," Ed said,
shaking his head and staring down at the tablecloth. "I was so shocked
when I read about her fall. So tragic."

           
"Fall?" Kara said. She
glanced around to make sure Jill was out of ear shot. "Kelly didn't fall!
She was pushed!"

           
Ed's head snapped up. His face was
pale and his eyes were wide as he looked at her.

           
"No-no! She fell! It was an
accident!"

           
Kara was surprised by his vehemence.

           
"Why do you say that?"

           
"Because," he said slowly
in a calmer tone, although he still appeared upset, "I simply cannot
believe that anyone would want to harm her."

           
"Neither can I," Kara
said. It was a natural conclusion. Who would want to hurt Kelly? "But it's
true. She was murdered."

           
"Oh, God!"

           
Ed ran a trembling hand across his
face. He had gone another shade paler. He looked as if he was going to be sick.

           
It occurred to Kara that if the
thought of Kelly being murdered upset him like this, he must have cared for her
a lot more than he had let on. Obviously he knew nothing about Kelly's bizarre
sexual behavior—and he wasn't going to learn of it from Kara.

           
"I'm sorry if I upset
you," she said.

           
"No, it's all right. It's just
such a shock. Do the police have any idea…?"

           
"Nothing," Kara said
without trying to hide the bitterness that leapt into her voice. "They've
got a description of two guys and a set of fingerprints, but no suspects."

           
"Are they… are they
close?"

           
"Apparently not. And I'm afraid
that if they don't find someone soon, they'll forget about Kelly. But I won't
let them. I'm a very persistent person. I'll be on their backs. I won't let
Kelly's file wind up on the bottom of their stack of unsolved murders."

           
"Good for you," Ed said,
but his voice was flat.

           
He still appeared to be in a state
of shock, but his color was better. He seemed to be pulling out of it.

           
Kara noticed that Jill was on her
way back to the table.

           
"Let's change the subject,
shall we?"

           
"Gladly," Ed said.

           
He paused, staring off into space,
then seemed to come to a decision. He reached inside his coat pocket and
withdrew a card.

           
"Here's my number."

           
Kara recognized the mountain logo.
"You work for Paramount?"

           
"I'm with their legal
department. I do mostly corporate law now, but I can still help you with the
police. I want you to keep me informed as to what's going on with your sister's
case. Because if there are any problems, of if they start giving you the
runaround, they'll start hearing from me as well."

           
Kara was touched.

           
"That's very nice of you. Kelly
was lucky to have a friend like you."

           
"It's the least I can do."

           
I'm
certifiably insane
, Ed Bannion thought as he rode across town in the back
of a cab. He had dropped the woman and her daughter off at the dead sister's
apartment and was now eager to get back to his own place on West 70th.
Insane! That's the only explanation for what
I did tonight
!