William Bernhardt - Murder One

Ben’s face twisted, a mixture of shock and humiliation. “Then … all we did—you were just pretending. Just putting on another show.”

“Sad to say, I was. I’m not proud of it. But it was necessary. Not that I minded or anything,” she added hastily. “You’re a regular guy, Ben. But a little too straight for me.” A large belly laugh erupted from the base of her throat. “Way too straight for me, actually.”

“You incriminated your brother. You made him your fall guy.”

“Well, he deserved it, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

Andrea nodded mutely.

“He’s the one who screwed up our plan in the first place,” Keri explained, and for the first time, a trace of bitterness crept into her voice. “He came in just after we polished off Joe. And he freaked. Totally out-of-his-head freaked. See, everything I said in court about Kirk was basically true. He had serious emotional problems. He had low self-esteem, sexual confusion, a violent temper. Religious obsessions. And he was fond of his sister. Quite fond of his sister.” She paused, running her fingers slowly through the strands of her silky hair. “We were very close. If you know what I mean.”

Ben felt the gorge rising in his stomach. It took all his strength to suppress his urge to be ill.

“So anyway, he comes in at just the wrong moment and sees me and Andrea on top of Joe, both of us drenched in blood. It sent his already fragile mind into a frenzy. He didn’t know what to do. Talked about calling the police.”

“But you stopped him.”

Keri grinned. “He’d been lusting after me all his life, since we were kids. Remember when I told you my daddy and I were close? It was true.” She winked. “Another clue you missed, Sherlock. Anyway, I think Kirk had always been jealous of what Daddy and I had. So when the time came that I needed his help, needed him to do some horrible things he otherwise would never think about doing, I gave him what he’d wanted all those years. His dream come true.”

Ben was unable to speak.

“Mind you, I made it worth Kirk’s while. I gave him a good piece of action, I really did. I mean I could’ve just done it quick and dirty, but I knew he’d been waiting for this a long time, so I tried to make it memorable. And I think I succeeded. I hadn’t been a stripper all that time without learning a few things. After all the bumping and grinding was done, I told him to stop crying and help. And it worked. Kirk kept his mouth shut—even helped us move the body around. It was great. Sent poor Kirk over the edge, though. Kirk had me on some kind of exalted plateau, in his twisted little mind. Some kind of madonna-whore thing, I guess. I don’t know.” She saw Ben’s reaction and smiled. “You’re surprised I know about things like that. You might be amazed at what I know. I’m a bright young babe. Well read. Matthews tried to tell you I was smart, remember? But of course, you didn’t listen to him. I may be from Stroud, Ben, but I’m nobody’s fool. Anyway, after we were done, Kirk bailed. Took all his stuff and ran out of the room. He was totally out of his mind.” She paused. “He’s the one who slashed that woman in your office, you know.”

“ What! ”

“Oh, yeah. I kept an eye on him, even after he flew the coop. I had to—he was a security risk, right? That’s why I was out so often, late at night. He was doing all kinds of bizarre stuff—mutilating his body, sleeping with prostitutes. He was trying to expiate his guilt, trying to come to terms with what he’d done, to Joe and to me. When he went to your office, sadly enough, I think he was looking for me. The super at my apartment told me he’d been by asking after me; they suggested he try your office, which he did. He’d finally decided to strike back. He thought by killing me, by venting his anger on the source of his pain, he could rid himself of all that guilt. But alas, I wasn’t there and your librarian buddy was. So she took the fall. Later, he realized he’d made a terrible mistake. Which only intensified his despair.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Use some brains, Kincaid. If you’d gotten your hands on Kirk, he would’ve spilled everything. No, after that business with the librarian, I realized he was too dangerous to live.”

“But—but he killed himself. I saw it!”

“Yeah, he killed himself. With my help. I made a late night visit to his hellhole of an apartment. Happily, he’d just been with a prostitute, so he was feeling particularly guilt-ridden. I said exactly the words I knew would push him over the brink. And sure enough, he went down. Fifty stories down.”

“But I saw you! You were torn apart with grief!”

“Quite the little actress, aren’t I?” She laughed. “ ‘Oh, Ben, I love you so. Please hold me.’ ” She laughed again, loud and bitter. “Do you remember exactly when Kirk jumped? It was when Matthews told him I was coming to get him. I was the guilt he could never escape.” She shook her head. “What a fool Kirk was.”

“Your brother loved you!”

“My brother was a headcase ever since my parents died. Before, actually. He was such a simp. He was much better off after they were out of the picture; he just couldn’t see it. Mother’s perverted pranks weren’t even the worst of it. They were always riding us, trying to control us. Butting into my private life. Telling me I was dirty and sinful. So I remedied the situation.”

“You—you said they were killed in a traffic accident.”

“They were. It’s bad news when a truck comes at you in an intersection. Particularly if someone has drained most of your brake fluid.”

“I can’t believe it. I—can’t believe it.” Ben knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was as if his brain was frozen and nonfunctional.

“Oh hell, honey, you haven’t heard the worst of it.” She turned toward Andrea. “Should I tell him?”

Andrea shook her head.

“Aw, come on. I want to.”

Andrea continued shaking.

“Spoilsport.”

“Tell me what?” Ben bellowed.

“I’m sorry, Andrea, but I just can’t hold this back any longer.” She leaned forward eagerly on the sofa, providing an ample display of cleavage. “I’m the one who planted the knife in your office.”

“ What! ”

“You heard me.”

Ben grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to steady himself. It was all too much, too impossible. “I could’ve been convicted of murder! I could’ve been disbarred! Why in God’s name would you do that?”

“To throw the dogs off my scent, dearie. I knew you’d never be convicted of anything. And I also knew that if they found the murder weapon in your office, you—and maybe others as well—would be convinced someone was trying to frame me. See, I knew about the Blue Squeeze. Contrary to what you proved in court”—she giggled a bit at that one—“Andrea wasn’t behind the police harassment. Why should she want to hassle me? It was all that bozo Matthews’s idea, trying to prove his manhood by deifying his former partner. But once we knew about it, Andrea figured we could use it to muddy the waters. To create more reasonable doubt. And to make you more certain than ever that I was innocent.”

“So you put the knife in my file cabinet?”

“Of course. And I phoned the anonymous tip to Matthews. Think about it, Ben. Who else would have that thing? It was my knife, after all. Happily, I didn’t leave it in my apartment, so the cops didn’t find it. I had that much sense. But I knew where it was. I retrieved it and planted it on you. Brilliant, huh?”

Ben found himself barely able to speak. “And—and you don’t have any … regret?”

“I’m proud to say that I do not. Now, Andrea, here, is another story.”