Sara Paretsky - Total Recall

Fillida curled her lip scornfully. “Che maniere borghesi. Why should I bother my head if my husband gratifies the fantasies of some poor little creature?”

“She’s complaining that I have bourgeois manners,” I explained to Ralph and to Mrs. Coltrain, who was staring straight ahead, glassy with shock. “In her world, if your husband sleeps with the staff it’s just a throwback to those old medieval customs. The queen of the castle doesn’t bother her head over it because she’s still queen. What is it, Fillida? Because you’re the queen you shoot anyone who doesn’t bow to you? Because you’re queen of Edelweiss, no one is allowed to get money from the company-you’ll shoot them if they submit a claim? You need to hold Edelweiss the way you hold your silverware and your daughter’s hair, don’t you?”

“You are ignorant. It is my family’s company, the Edelweiss. My mother’s grandfather, he started this company, only then of course it was called the Nesthorn. The Jews forced us to change the name after the Second World War, but they cannot force us to let go of our company. I am protecting the future of my children, of Paolo and Marguerita, that is all.”

She was angry, but she kept her gun pointed at Mrs. Coltrain. “That that cretin Howard Fepple could think he could drain money from us, it is unbelievable. And the Jews, only wanting money all the time, believing they could come to demand more money from us, that is an affront, an outrage. Speak quickly now, tell me where are these books of Signor Hoffman.”

I felt very tired, very aware of how weak and ineffectual I was with my arms pinned behind me. “Oh, those Jews, paying their few pennies a week to Nesthorn so that you could ski at Mont Blanc and shop on Monte Napoleane. And now their grandchildren, their own little Paolos and Margueritas, want the company to pay what you owe them. That is a terribly bourgeois attitude: don’t they understand the aristocratic outlook-that you get to collect the premium and never have to pay on the policies? It’s a pity the Chicago police have such a limited worldview. When they’ve matched fibers from Bertie’s clothes to Connie Ingram’s body, well, that will make a big impact on a bourgeois jury, believe me.”

“The police require a reason to think about Bertrand at all.” Fillida shrugged elegant shoulders. “I myself do not see such a thing happening.”

“Paul Hoffman could identify you, Fillida. Your hand slipped badly on the trigger there, didn’t it?”

“That lunatic! He couldn’t identify me in a thousand years. He thinks I am a concentration-camp guard. Who would even suggest me as being in his house!”

“Max Loewenthal. He knows what’s happening here. Carl Tisov. Dr. Herschel herself. You and Bertie are like a couple of elephants going musth through the jungle. You can’t keep killing everyone in Chicago without getting caught out yourselves.”

Rossy looked at his watch. “We need to be going soon, if Alderman Durham will only get here. Fillida, he advised against bullet wounds, so break the clerk’s arm. Persuade this detective that we are serious in our quest.”

Fillida turned her gun over and slammed the stock against Mrs. Coltrain’s arm. Mrs. Coltrain screamed, the pain ripping her out of her shocked frozenness. The horrible noise turned everyone toward her.

In that brief window of distraction, I launched myself at Rossy. I whirled, kicking him hard in the stomach, turning again as he lashed out at me to kick him on the kneecap. He was punching at me, but he wasn’t a street fighter. I was. I ducked underneath his flailing arms and butted him square in the solar plexus. He gagged and backed away.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fillida taking aim. I hit the floor. I was demented now. Unable to use my hands, I lay on my back kicking at Rossy over and over. I was screaming in rage, in impotent fury, as Fillida came around to the front of the desk to point her gun at me. I didn’t want to die like this, helpless on the floor.

Behind me I heard Ralph give an enraged grunt. He got to his feet, dragging the chair with him, and flung himself at Fillida just before she fired. His blow knocked her off balance. Her gun went off but she fell, with Ralph in his chair falling on top of her. She screamed as he crashed onto her abdomen.

Mrs. Coltrain stood up behind the desk. “I have called the police, Mr. Rossy, as I believe your name is. They will be here at any moment.”

Her voice wobbled a bit, but she was back in command of her clinic. Hearing that majestic tone, the same one she used to keep small children from fighting in the waiting room, I lay on the floor and laughed.

I sat on the edge of Ralph’s bed, holding his right hand between both of my own. It was late on Saturday night, but the charge nurse told me he wouldn’t sleep until he’d talked to me.

“I don’t have much luck with my corporate loyalties,” he said. “Why couldn’t I listen to you the second time around if I wouldn’t the first? So many people dead. Poor Connie. And me with another bullet in the shoulder. I guess I just can’t stand for you to be right, can I?”

“At least they got your left shoulder this time,” I said. “Now you’re symmetrical. Ralph, you’re a good guy and a team player. You wanted your team to be as good as you were, and I was telling you they weren’t. You’re too honest yourself to believe the worst of the people around you. And anyway, you saved my life. I can’t possibly feel anything but overflowing gratitude.” I brought his right hand to my lips.

“That’s generous.” His eyes flickered shut for a moment. “Connie. Why did she?”

“I don’t think she was being disloyal to you or to the company, but I imagine Rossy turned her head. There was the big boss in from the new owners in Switzerland, telling her to report directly to him, that she shouldn’t tell anyone what he said to her because someone in the company was embezzling, and it might be anyone, you, her immediate supervisor Karen. I imagine that was how he worked it. Anyone who had spent fourteen years toiling as a claims clerk would have been thrilled, but she had that extra quality of loyalty and reliability. He said not to talk, she kept quiet. And then, he was sophisticated, he was glamorous.”

“It’s a warning to me to cut out cheeseburgers,” Ralph said with a gleam of humor. “Guy’s only two years younger than me. I need to look more glamorous to my young claims handlers. So he romanced her and strangled her. What a horrible ending for her. Can they make it stick?”

“Terry Finchley, the detective in charge, he got a search warrant. They’re looking at Rossy’s clothes, fingerprints-they may get a match with the marks on her neck. He and Fillida were so single-mindedly arrogant, they probably didn’t try too hard to conceal evidence.

“Fillida, that’s another story. She could face a lot of charges-Fepple’s murder, attacking Paul Hoffman, attacking Rhea Wiell, but she’s attractive, rich. They’re searching for her prints or clothes fibers or anything at Paul’s house, but she’s going to be hard for the state’s attorney to nail down. At least those cheeseburgers of yours did some good: when you came down on her you cracked her pelvis. She won’t ski anywhere anytime soon.”

He smiled briefly, the twisted smile that reminded me of the old Ralph, and shut his eyes. I thought he had drifted off to sleep, but as I started to get up he looked up at me again.

“What was Alderman Durham doing at the clinic? I saw him as they were carrying me off on a stretcher.”

“Oh, Fillida and Bertrand had gone berserk,” I said. “They thought they’d get a bomb, blow the three of us up, make it look as though anti-abortion terrorists had been responsible. They told Durham to get one for them-they assumed that they’d bought him, that he was just another one of their servants who’d do what they wanted.