Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

“What are you-” Then she saw the woman huddled on the floor, one arm flung out before her, blood that had poured from a wound in her chest.

Death.

Dear God, another death.

She sank back against the doorjamb.

She stood there in the doorway, watching as Caleb knelt beside the woman. It had to be Adah Ziller.

A pretty woman, Jane thought dully. Elegantly slim in her gold silk nightgown. Cafē-au-lait skin and black hair cropped fashionably close around her face. But her expression wasn’t pretty, it held an incredulous horror.

“She wasn’t expecting him to do it,” Jane said. “She looks… surprised. Was she shot?”

“No, it’s a knife wound.” He looked up at her. “A fresh kill. I’d say only a few minutes.”

“Right before we got here.”

“No, probably when we got here. He either saw us approach the house or heard us when we came in.”

“So he killed her? Because we came here looking for him?”

“He might not have even been sure who we were. He could have thought Millet had found him. Or even Venable’s men. Either way, he’d have considered it prudent to silence anyone who might have known anything about him.”

“She was trying to help him. She’d taken him into her home.”

“Yes.” He glanced at the gold nightgown clinging to the woman’s slim body. “And probably her bed.”

“Why wouldn’t he have just taken her with him? Why kill her?”

“Maybe he meant to do it anyway, and he just had to advance his plans a bit.” He stood up. “So he stabbed her and came down those steps firing.”

Firing at her. Firing at Jock.

The memory jarred her out of the shock that had left her dazed and bewildered. “Jock. He should have come back by now.” She turned. “I have to make sure he’s all right.”

“Jane to the rescue,” he murmured. “Nursemaid to a baby tiger.”

“Shut up, Caleb.” She started down the stairs. “He’s my friend.”

“I know. I suppose that’s what’s bothering me.” He went on, “I’ll go after him. I’m the one who told him to take off after Weismann.” He grimaced. “Not that he would have obeyed any order I gave. All he cared about was that I was here to take care of you so he could run him down without feeling guilty. I would have-”

“He got away. Hell, he was fast.” Jock stood in the front doorway. “He had a car parked two blocks away. He was already in it and a half a block down the street by the time I caught up with him.”

“Damn,” Caleb said.

“My sentiments,” Jock said.

“It was definitely Weismann?” Jane asked.

“Yes, what about Adah Ziller? Did you find out anything from her?”

“She’s dead,” Jane said. “Stabbed.”

“Dead end,” Jock said. “Then we’d better get out of here. As I was coming back, I saw lights popping on in several houses on the block. They must have heard those shots.”

“Not yet,” Jane said. “I won’t have this be a dead end.”

“Jane, they’ve probably called the police.”

“Then we’ll have to hurry. Ten minutes, and we’ll be out of here. Weismann killed that woman because he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t tell whatever she knew. I want to see if she can still tell us.” She turned to Caleb. “You said you were searching in the office earlier. Did you find anything?”

“I didn’t have a chance before you came into the house.”

“Then go back and search it again until you do.”

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Caleb asked.

“I have no idea. Anything that might be different or out of place I guess. How do I know? You’re the hunter. Jock, pull the car directly in front of the house and try to find some mud to hide the license number.” She braced herself. Lord, she didn’t want to do this. “I’ll go back into her bedroom and search there. Women often keep things that mean something to them close to them. There’s nothing closer or more intimate than a bedroom.”

“Ten minutes.” Caleb was already down the stairs and heading for the library. He added dryly, “Or when we hear the first sirens.”

Jock turned and left the house.

Stop hesitating, Jane told herself. There isn’t time to give in to emotion. Turn around and go into Adah Ziller’s room and search. It wasn’t a violation. Whatever Jane found would help to punish that bastard who had betrayed Adah.

She wheeled and flew back up the stairs.

She carefully avoided looking at the woman lying on the floor.

Bedside tables, first.

She opened the drawer. Birth control. Pad, pencil. She went around the bed to the other bedside table. A small, malachite-studded Derringer pistol. Very pretty, like its owner. It was a pity she hadn’t had a chance to use it.

Bathroom.

Nothing but the usual products.

Where else?

Luggage.

She opened the closet door and checked the overhead shelf. Zero.

She pulled out the small Louis Vuitton overnight case.

Empty.

No.

Tucked in an elastic pocket on the side was a small but thick leather book.

She grabbed it and shoved the suitcase back in the closet. Jewelry box on the lingerie chest.

Very nice, very expensive costume jewelry. She seemed to be very fond of heavy silver bangles. She lifted the tray. More jewelry.

And a small chamois pouch pushed to the back of the tray. She opened the strings. Not jewelry. Coins.

“Jane! Get down here.”

Jock’s voice.

She slipped the pouch into her jacket pocket and ran toward the door.

Jock was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “I think I heard sirens.”

Caleb was coming out of the living room. “Get going. Keep watch for them. Start the car.”

“Right.” Jock was out the door and running down the walk.

Jane started to follow him.

Wait.” Caleb grabbed a silk runner from the hall table and draped it over her head and shoulders. “Keep your head down. There are probably a dozen neighbors peering out their windows by now.”

“It’s a little late. Our fingerprints are probably all over this house.”

“It’s never too late. We had no idea we’d need gloves when we came here but you have to take precautions where you can.”

“What about you and Jock?”

“I’m not worried about anyone remembering me. It’s too late for Jock.”

No, that’s right, Caleb could change their perceptions, she thought as she ran down the walk.

But, dammit, Jock was very recognizable. People always remembered that incredibly handsome face.

“Get in.” Jock’s face was grim as he threw open the passenger seat door for her. “Those sirens aren’t more than a few blocks away.”

She could hear them herself. Loud, staccato, not like the wailing sirens at home in the U.S.

“Go south two blocks and make a turn and double back on a parallel street to the subdivision entrance,” Caleb said as he jumped in the backseat. “And keep your lights off.”

“I’m driving. Stop telling me what to do,” Jock said as he gunned the engine. “Why do you think I haven’t got my headlights on now?”

More lights were going on in the houses they were passing, Jane noticed tensely.

The sirens were louder.

Hurry.

As Jock made the turn, a dark police car with red lights flashing came into view. Before Jane lost sight of it, she saw the patrol car pull up before Adah’s house.

“We have time, Jane,” Caleb said quietly. “They’ll have to go inside and verify what’s going on and if there’s actually a crime. And, even if all those peeping Toms stream out into the street and try to talk to the policemen, it will take a few minutes for them to sort out what’s happening.”

“And we should be out of the subdivision and miles away before they get it together,” Jock added. “I was only worried about getting a little head start.”