T. Parker: Summer Of Fear

"You look like a tired writer with a gun under his coat."

"Some things don't change."

"I have to tell you, Russ, I am afraid of this."

"You should be."

"I am furious at Erik."

"Hide it for a while. There will be a time for that."

We arrived at Amber's at 9:30, after parking well away from the house.

Wald came exactly at ten, as planned. He had dressed for the occasion in a baggy cream-colored linen suit. The coat was perfect for concealing a gun, which, if I was correct in my surmise, would be my own. 45, pilfered by Grace earlier in the day and delivered to Wald forthwith. He shook my hand and kissed Amber on both cheeks.

"I feel good," he said. "Charged to the max by the adrenaline of law enforcement. I love this kind of stuff. Out of the lecture hall and into real life."

"Do you think he's convinced?" asked Amber, never better at playing a role.

"I'm almost sure of it."

"And if he's not?"

"Then, my dearest, most beautiful Amber Mae, we try again." He smiled at her, in his boyish blue eyes the same shine of desire and conspiracy that I had seen him level at my daughter that very morning. He had known them both! I could hardly contain my desire to beat his face to meat with my fists.

"I think we should set up in Amber's bedroom," I said quietly. "That's where Marty will expect to find you."

"I'm guessing he'll come around midnight," said Erik "He'll figure she'll be asleep by then, like Alice was. Make his whole op a lot easier."

"Erik," I said, smiling at him, "that's good thinking."

We climbed the stairs. In Amber's room, we made ourselves comfortable for the wait. I dimmed the lights. Amber reclined on the bed with a book. Erik claimed a divan to the side of one window and I sat in a rather punishing chair on the other side. I made a show of checking the angle, of assuring myself that an alert Martin Parish would not be able to see me through the glass.

Erik nodded approvingly. "Well," he said, "we've got least an hour to kill. Shall we talk about our feelings, share personal experiences, come to terms with inner conflicts?"

Amber said nothing.

"Maybe you should start, Erik. Tell us, for instance, what you were doing here in Amber's bedroom on July the third and fourth."

He chuckled, but his eyes moved from me to Amber and back again in a reflexive action he could not control. "Let's see, I was… getting ready to strip down and have a wank like Marty used to. Yes, that's it. Dream of Amber and shake hands with the unemployed."

I laughed quietly. "When, exactly, did your glasses lose that screw because it was stripped? Before wank or after? My guess is after."

"You've lost me already, Russ. Although you genuine law-enforcement types often do."

"On your cleanup detail the next night, a bad screw worked loose from your glasses. That left one to hold the temple on, but barely. You didn't know it was gone until this morning, when you put them on in your study. There were other things on your mind. I found it right here on this carpet on the Fourth of July. This afternoon I went back to your place after the meeting. And guess what? It fits perfectly."

Erik smiled a little uneasily. "Lots of screws fit lots of things, Russ. Maybe you should have tried a pair of Martin's glasses."

"He's got twenty/fifteen vision. And you only wear your glasses when the world won't see you, or you think it shouldn't. It didn't on the Fourth. Because you were painting over these walls, trying to cover up the spray-paint you'd used twenty-four hours earlier."

Erik glanced casually across at Amber, then turned back to me. "I get the distinct feeling you two are having a laugh on Professor Wald."

"I haven't really laughed in almost two years, Erik."

"Then maybe you could be a mensch and tell me what the hell you're talking about."

I removed the videotape from one pocket and held it out. Wald's face turned blank, and even in the diminished light I could see the color fade from it. I brought out the. 357 and set the butt of it on the arm of my chair, positioning the barrel in line with Wald's heart.

Amber gasped.

Wald looked quickly to her, then back. For a moment his entire body seemed spring-loaded, poised to explode. The he leaned back more comfortably into the cushions of the diva and crossed his legs. He managed a smile. "Fire away, Russ

"Not yet," I said. "I'd like you to hold very still while Amber comes up behind you and takes the pistol from the holster under your coat." At this point, I lifted my magnum and married sights to the center of Erik Wald's chest. "If you touch her, blow your heart out. And I'd like to make a small predicts right now that the sidearm she'll take away from you, Wald, will be my own Gold Cup forty-five. Let's run the experiment now just to see."

His face, partially in shadow, took on the appearance pale marble. A layer of sweat had come to his skin and the dim light turned it to an otherworldly shine. Even in his posture repose, I clearly sensed that Wald's entire being was capable any second of quick and decisive motion.

Amber approached behind him.

"Spread your arms," I said.

Wald did.

Amber's hand glided beneath the left lapel of the linen coat and reappeared with the bright shape of my stainless automatic positioned between her long and perfect fingers, did not move. Amber retreated to the bed, dropped the gun on the cover, then stood looking at me.

"Shall we watch the preamble to your polar-bear tape?” I asked.

"Sure," said Wald.

"You bastard, Erik," Amber hissed. "I wish Russell could shoot you right now. You're not good enough for a prison.

"I'm not going to any prison. You can be sure of that."

"Naw, Erik couldn't cut it in stir," I said. "Why don't you tell us how you and Grace planned to kill Amber but killed her sister instead? How you planted her body in my freezer and played Martin into it? How you started screwing Grace when she was just a girl, and scared her enough to believe her own mother was having her tortured? When you've explained all that, we'll just break up the party here and go our separate ways. You'll be back in time to watch all the home movies you want. See, Wald, you were right about one thing-I'm not willing to take down my daughter just to get to you."

Something of Wald's coiled energy seemed to relax just a little. "Damn," he said, finally. "And here I thought you'd want to know something closer to the truth, such as how I managed to save Grace's butt from Parish for this long. Yours, too, buddy Russ."

I set the gun on the armchair and folded my hands in my lap. "Okay. That's what I want to know."

"Then I'm happy to tell you, though it breaks my promise to Grace. She dreaded the thought of… falling in your eyes, Russ. I knew Grace was scared enough to make an attempt on Amber. I'd seen those scars on her feet. I'd seen everything she'd gone through with loving mom here. She left my house late on the third, half drunk, with a thirty-two. I followed her. What I found was one dead woman in Amber's room, right here, and Grace standing there puking on herself. I took her to my place. Parish did it, absolutely. He wanted to frame the Eye, but when he realized he'd gotten Alice instead of Amber, it made more sense to come back and sanitize the scene and hope no one would have anything to report. If someone did, they'd report to him, anyway."

I smiled inwardly, though I don't know what was showing on my face then. Amber's look of hatred was unabated.

"That's a good story, but it doesn't match Grace's. She told me everything. And she's told Martin Parish, too."

I knew I was on my most tenuous ground here, lying absolutely that Grace had confided in me. If the bond between them was as strong as I feared it might be, Wald would dig his heels and hold fast. If not, he might begin to weaken and contradict himself.