Murder in the Air (43 page)

That afternoon was such a crazy few hours in my life, Mom. As I think about it now I realize I was sitting at the center of a cyclone, but all I knew was that I would see my girl in a few hours. Everything was going to be all right. Sure, I was worried about Sally, and yet, for no particular reason, I'dfind myself smiling. As a reporter, I was frustrated and angered by what Kay had done to sabotage my investigation, but as a man, I couldn't wait to see her, to take her in my arms and tell her how much I loved her. I spent the rest of the day running down leads for a story I was working on, but I couldn't concentrate. I was too nervous. One minute I was excited, the next terrified. At one point I did try calling around to see if I could locate Sally, but with no luck.

A few minutes before four, I walked down the hill
toward the creek. The diamond ring was in my pocket, and the promise of a beautiful storybook future was in my heart. It was beginning to get dark, though there was enough light to see that Kay was already waiting for me. She was leaning against a tree, gazing silently at the opposite bank. The evening was quiet, the breeze almost soft. I stood for a few seconds and watched her, knowing that I wanted to capture this moment and remember it the rest of my life. She was so young, so lovely, and trying so hard to find her way, to do what was right. Once again, I felt we were kindred spirits, fated to be together.

As I walked up to her she heard the crunch of my shoes in the snow and turned. She smiled at me, Mom, but there were tears in her eyes. In that instant I knew what she'd decided. My stomach tightened. I couldn't believe she'd chosen Manderbach.

I just stood there staring at her. “Why?” I said after a couple of seconds.

She looked down. “You're strong, Justin. With or without me, you'll have a happy, successful life.”

I protested, telling her she had it all wrong. Without her I'd be miserable, lonely, empty.

She held up her hand for me to stop. “Please, if you don't let me explain, you'll never understand. And if I can't make you understand, you'll hate me. I couldn't take that, Justin
—
knowing you hated me.” She wiped a hand over her eyes and began again. “Bud is weak. He picks bad women. He's always going to pick bad women, Justin, and that's why, until the day he dies, he'll be unhappy. With me, he has a chance. I won't disappoint him. I don't care at all about his money, I care only about him. I'll help him, don't you see? Underneath, he's not what he appears. He's good and decent. And he's kind, and very gentle.
”

“But… what about Olga Landauer? He killed her in cold blood! That's not the act of a good man.”

“It wasn't like that, Justin. It wasn't intentionally brutal. But you've right, he was driving that night. After a lot of soul-searching, he finally told me the truth. And that's what
broke down the final barrier between us. I know what he did was wrong, but I also understand the pain he was in. And I know he can change. I have the ability to give him back his life, to grant him a second chance. Not to do so would be wrong.”

“Kay, that's crazy! Society has rules. We can't just let people get away with murder because they've in pain.”

“It wasn't a cold-blooded murder, Justin. You and I both know that. It was an accident. A mistake. Oh, I understand why you've so interested in bringing Bud to justice. You've a journalist. You can't help yourself. Journalists are storytellers who need good guys and bad guys to people their stories. You deal in facts, in black and white. But real life isn't that simple. I won't let you sacrifice Bud's future on the altar of some story, Justin. He deserves better than that.”

I didn't agree with her, but thought that if I argued the point, it would only alienate her further. What I asked next was self-serving, but I had to know the truth. “So … have you destroyed the negatives?”

Her expression grew wistful. “Bud asked me the same thing. No, they're right here.” She held up her purse. “I intend to meet with him when we've done. After I present him with both the photos and the negatives, he'll understand that I mean what I say
—
that I can be trusted.”

“But, Kay … I love you. You love me. You can't just walk away from what we have.” I was desperate. I didn't know what to say, so I grabbed her, pulled her against me. I could smell her perfume, feel the softness of her hair.

She gave in at first. I knew she'd made a decision and wanted to stick with it, but I could also sense the conflict raging inside her. As she said, nothing was simple. After a few seconds she stiffened and pulled away. “Justin, don't make this harder than it already is.” She took off my ring and handed it to me. “I can't keep this. Not now. Please, put it back on.”

I protested. I wouldn't. It was hers. I'd given it to her.

“Please, Justin. I have to know it's back where it belongs. I know how much the ring means to you.”

I knew by the look of determination on her face that it was useless to argue, so I did what she asked. I took off both gloves and put them in my pocket, then slipped the tiger eye back on my finger. We stood and looked at each other for several seconds. I suppose we were absorbing the finality of the moment. All I know is that neither of us knew what to say, or more specifically, how to say goodbye.

My eyes clouded with tears. I wanted to scream, to protest, to make her see my agony, but instead I took my defeat like a man.

As I was about to kiss her one last time, I saw a man slide down the opposite bank. Even in the fading twilight, I could tell he was a stranger. He had on a dark overcoat, and he was young. Early twenties. Kay turned and watched, too, as he hurried over the bridge toward us.

“Hi there, “ he called. “I'm looking for Kay Collins.”

Kay seemed puzzled. “Fm Kay, “ she said.

From then on, Mom, everything happened so fast, I barely had time to think. All I could do was react. As a journalist, I know the words I'd use to describe the moment, the scene, the action, but this was different. I was inside the story
—
and the story was inside me.

“Are you Justin Bloom? “ he asked.

“ Who wants to know ? “ I wasn't about to give him my name. I didn't like his looks. He seemed on edge. Jumpy.

The man glanced over his shoulder, inspected the quiet woods, then turned back and smiled. “Yeah, you're Justin.
”
Looking at Kay, he said, “I got something for you, miss. It's a message from a friend.” Without warning, he drew a gun from his pocket and shot her point-blank in the head.

My mouth dropped open. For a second or two the world stopped. When it started again, I'd switched to automatic. I lunged at him and wrestled him to the ground. Somehow I managed to kick the gun away. Once he was down, I hit him hard. I pushed him back against the tree and beat the
living crap out of him. All the while, Kay was lying on the ground just a few feet from us. She wasn't moving. I realized later that the bullet must have killed her instantly.

After I was sure the guy was out cold, I crawled to her side and cradled her in my arms. Words are my stock-in-trade, but nothing can describe what I felt, Mom. Nothing. It was the most horrible moment of my life. Her blood was all over me, all over the ground, the snow, the ice, and worse
—
I could see now that part of her head was gone. There was no doubt in my mind that she was dead.

After a while I heard the guy groaning, so I got up, located the gun, and held it on him. God, I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to feel just exactly what Kay had felt. I probably would have shot him right then and there if it hadn't been for a cop. I hadn't heard him walk up, but there he was, standing behind me, big as life in his official blue uniform. He ordered me to drop the gun.

I said, No! He didn't understand. I didn't shoot the woman. I loved her. This other guy had done it. Again, the officer demanded I put the weapon down, and finally, after he drew his own gun and pointed it at me, I dropped it in the snow at my feet. At that point he motioned for the real murderer to stand up. “You okay?” he asked.

I stopped breathing. “ You know this man?”

“Shut up,” said the cop. “Did you get the negatives?”

The thug answered, “Give me a break, Dad. I've been kind of busy.”

“I'm not your father! Don't use that teenage slang on me. Get up and do it now.”

He scrambled to his feet and retrieved the purse from under a bush. Just as Kay had said, the negatives and photos were inside.

“Here,” said the cop. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and exchanged it for the purse.

The guy counted the money and then said, “Anything else my family can ever do for you, you know where to find us.”

As he disappeared into the darkness the officer, still holding the gun on me, walked a few paces closer.

I stood very still, clenched my fists, and waited for him to shoot, but for some reason, he didn't. Instead, in a very calm voice, he started talking. “Your prints are all over the murder weapon, son. Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Fm going to swear you killed her. What that means is, you got two choices. You can either stay and take your chances with the law, or you can run.” He lifted another envelope from his breast pocket. “If you decide to run, there's fifty thousand dollars in here, a plane ticket out of the country, and a fake passport.”

I was confused. Nothing made any sense. “But… I don't understand. Aren't you going to … shoot me, too?”

“That's not part of the plan.”

“What plan? Whose plan?” I was breathing so hard, I almost hyperventilated. I felt light-headed, disoriented. At that moment all I knew for sure was that I wanted to strangle the cop with my bare hands, but his gun was pointed straight at my chest. Plan or no plan, if I made a move on him, he'd shoot. I'd learned enough about men in the army to know this guy meant business.

“You can't win, kid. Manderbach set it up that way.”

When I heard the name, it was like this crystal formed inside my mind. In an instant I knew it all. It's Manderbach. He's behind this!” I looked down at Kay's lifeless body, and I understood. Tears came to my eyes. How could he do it? For God's sake, he'd won! Didn't he realize? And then it hit me. He didn't know! He must have figured that Kay had made her decision, and that she'd chosen me.

“You haven't got a prayer if you stay in town. There's a mountain of evidence stacked against you. Just look at you. You've got her blood all over your clothes.”

“But why kill her and not me, too?”

“I don't know. I don't need to know.” He held the envelope out to me. “If I were you, I'd take the money and disappear.”

Even though I knew his solution made sense, something
prevented me from taking it. Maybe it was Kay. I couldn't just leave her there on the ground.

“One more thing,” said the cop. He saw my hesitation, so he upped the ante
—
made his final threat “Ifyou don't leave the country, what happened here tonight could also happen to your mother. Be a good boy. Leave quietly and keep your mouth shut. That way, everything will be just fine.”

Just fine, I thought. How could anything ever be “just fine” again? And yet, by threatening you, Mom, it was as if he waved smelling salts under my nose. Immediately, I was alert, on guard. “He wouldn't do that!” was all I could choke out.

“You and I both know he would. He's a smart man
—
smarter than both of us. Take the money, son. You can't do anything to help your girlfriend now. I'll make sure she's taken care of. I won't leave her here. If you stay, sure as I'm looking at you, you'll go to prison for her murder. You might even get the death penalty. Save yourself It's all you've got left.”

I knelt down next to Kay and took her hand. It was so cold. I kissed it, held it for a moment against my cheek. How could I leave? And yet, how could I stay? The cop was right
—
there was nothing more I could do except dig myself in deeper. Nobody would believe what really happened. Manderbach's plan was brutal and yet amazingly subtle. With one shot, he'd destroyed two people, saved himself, and no one would ever be the wiser.

As I got up, the cop said to me, “Police officers don't lie, son. Nobody's going to believe your story, not when they hear mine. God forgive me, but I'm part of this now, and I won't let you take me down with you.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. Stuffing the money inside my coat, I took off up the hill and never looked back. As I got to my car I saw Manderbach's Chrysler parked across the street. He must have been waiting to see the outcome. I couldn't help myself Mom. I rushed over and banged on the hood. “You killed her!” I exploded. I kicked the door, slammed my hands against the windshield, even picked up a rock and tried to smash the windows
—
anything to get my hands on him. When he saw I wasn't going to give up, he started the motor.

“You both got what you deserved,” he shouted, wiping a hand across his mouth, then over his eyes. “You're licked, Bloom. Get the hell out of here and never come back!” With that, he gunned the motor and roared off down the street.

You know the rest. I went home, put on some clean clothes, and packed one small bag. I knew I didn't have much time. The flight left at six. I wrote you a quick note, dropped it in a mailbox, and then drove to the airport. I was numb, Mom. I didn't feel anything for a very long time. When I finally did, I was long gone.

And so the cop told his story, and Justin Bloom was convicted by every citizen in the good state of Minnesota. The sad truth is, that many people can't be wrong.

So, I guess we've left with the question we started with. Did Justin Bloom murder Kay Collins? I have to say, at this moment, I think he did. His rashness, his single-minded need to further his career, and his inability to grasp the obvious all consigned the woman he loved to death. Is Bud Manderbach also responsible? Without a doubt. But who bears the ultimate guilt? A selfish, self-centered bastard with no sense of right and wrong, or a decent young man, a journalist, who should have known better? As I said at the beginning, Mom, I rest my case with you.