William Diehl - Seven ways to die

Cody studied the calendar. He picked up the phone and dialed Wolf’s number. “I need you to do me a favor,” he said, “and do it personally, no questions asked.”

“Shoot,” replied Wolf.

“Get me Ward Hamilton’s medical records.”

“Why in the hell-?”

“-No questions asked,” Cody interrupted.

Wolf grunted. “You got it.”

“And Wolf… Whatever it takes. Do it.”

Tonight was Halloween, exactly one week since the killings started.

If seven was the magic number, there’d have to be three more deaths.

With a shaman’s certainty, Cody knew they were planned for tonight.

And that one of them was meant to be him.

Halloween Night

Jake Sallinger got out of the shower, careful to navigate his balance on the slippery porcelain that had, more than once, ushered him to a painful slip.

As he reached for his towel, he contemplated with excitement the evening’s entertainment. Waiting for him at the Lotus Club would be the woman who described herself as a “strawberry blonde, green eyes, wicked smile” in the Metro Magazine personals ad. Who knows? Tonight might be his lucky night. It was certainly overdue. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten laid.

But something was off.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand to clear them from shower fog.

Where his towel should have been a manila envelope was propped on the rack.

More than puzzled, he reached for it without thinking, disturbing the white powder that covered the flap.

As his eyes automatically began to scan the first page, Jake found himself sneezing uncontrollably. He doubled over from the sneezing attack-just as the bathroom door pushed open.

Cynical laughter he’d recognize anywhere, then: “Thought you might appreciate it more by manual delivery,” Hamilton said.

But Sallinger had fainted from the effect of the mysterious powder. The last things the editor’s eyes saw were Hamilton’s clear plastic gloves and green surgical booties.?

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, Hamilton dragged Sallinger’s naked body toward the bathtub. He lifted the still-breathing editor into the tub. Taking a deep breath to recover from the exertion, he grabbed his editor’s head with both hands-and slammed it repeatedly against the brass towel rack, until he was satisfied Sallinger was dead.

To be doubly certain, Hamilton took the man’s pulse, and nodded to himself when he found none.

Deftly, and quickly before rigor mortis set in, he arranged Sallinger in a sitting position.

Taking another calming breath, Hamilton reached for the wall telephone and dialed 9-1-1.

“You’d better send someone to 155 E. 49 ^ th St. #3D,” he said to the operator. “The best crime article ever written has just been delivered to its former editor. Right on deadline.”

Before the operator could respond, Hamilton hung up and, as he headed for the service entrance, grinned at himself in the dining room mirror.

It was seven-thirty p.m. The wolves in the zoo were howling again. Hearing them, Hamilton thought about Detective Cody-and grinned.?

Way south in Cody’s apartment, Charley was hearing them too. “I know, pal,” Cody said, as he emerged from the shower, “they’re calling us. And this time they mean business.”

Using his hunting knife, he went through the ritual movements of preparing a venison stew, chopping the cranberries in half the way Old Man had taught him. This was the hunter’s meal, the meal he’d first eaten on the Reservation so many years ago on the night before his walk-out. When the simmering was done, the fruit and vegetables crisp and the venison still rare, Cody carefully divided the savory mixture between his own and Charley’s bowls. “I need you for this one, old friend,” he said.

Charley, licking every drop of the stew from his bowl, greeted him with a grunted bark of acknowledgement.

Just as Cody took his last bite, his cell phone rang.

It was Amelie. She heard the wolves too, Cody thought. “Don’t even think of arguing,” she began. “I need to see you now.”

“I honestly can’t,” Cody said. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“If you want to see me again, ever,” Amelie said, a strange tone in her voice Cody couldn’t identify, “You will give me one hour. That’s all I’m asking.”

Cody looked at the time on his cell phone. It was seven forty-five. If Androg stayed true to form, nothing would happen until midnight. “One hour,” he said. “This better be important.”

“It is,” she said.

Instead of canteen, flint, matches, and blanket, he rummaged in his socks drawer, found his ipetes, the eagle feather he’d carried with him from adolescence. On this quest, it would suffice.?

Somewhat against his better judgment, but somehow not wanting to over-analyze it either, Cody headed for Amelie’s apartment. Trust your head, a voice from the past was telling him. Everything you have learned. The answers will be there.

As for Charley, “It’s on the way, after all,” he told his sidekick.

Charley’s look said he wasn’t quite buying it.

“I know, I know,” Cody responded to the shepherd’s baleful stare. “But she said it was important, and she’s a potential witness after all.”

He left Charley in the SUV. No sense in having them sniff each other out unnecessarily.?

He heard the piano as he approached her apartment. Something by Gershwin? And she was good.

But the music had stopped abruptly and Amelie opened the door before he could lift his hand to knock. “I will help you prepare,” she said, as though he’d told her what he was about to do.

She led him toward the massage room. Her voice was businesslike. “Take your clothes off and get on the table.”

For a moment, Cody hesitated. Then he saw that she was doing the same-unbuttoning her blouse, zipping down her pants.

His eyebrows went up, partly because he was admiring her perfect athletic figure, partly because he was admiring the audacity of her invitation. “I thought you didn’t do this kind of massage,” he said, stupidly, as he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his loafers.

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it,” she said, impatiently reaching out to help him with his shirt buttons. “Just had to be the right man at the right time.”

She waited for him to be face down on the table before removing her bra and panties.

Turning his head to watch her, he was rebuked.

“Focus on your breathing,” she said. “It will loosen you up.”

The massage that followed redefined sensual. Her hands were strong and experienced and both relaxed and excited him to a point he’d never experienced before.

“Turn over,” she said, after kneading his legs, lower back, and shoulders.

Without a word he complied, and let her work her will on the front of his legs and abdomen, careful to keep the towel positioned in his midriff.

Although inevitably the towel betrayed him.

“Did I miss anything?” Amelie asked coyly.

“You missed the main attraction,” Cody responded. “And you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her laugh only ignited the heat between them.

“Lose the towel,” she said, “and join me in the sauna.”

And he did.?

She was in his lap facing him. He was inside her. They sat unmoving, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

Always look at the creature who looks at you, he remembered. The doorway to the truth is in the eyes. Listen.

Finally, when she began to move, they moved together as though they had been moving together all their lives. They made love slowly and thoroughly, and Cody flashed back to that sweat house he entered as a young man before embarking on his walk-out.