Unnatural Acts

49

The chopper slowed as it reached East Hampton and ran along the beach. The pilot looked back at Dino and Rosie. “It’s the smallest one,” he said over the intercom, while pointing down. “There’s a guy on the front porch. I’ll fly past and approach from the landward side. There’s a backyard.”

Dino looked down and from their height of about two hundred feet saw a man sitting at a table on the front porch of the house; he seemed to be eating breakfast. Dino gave the pilot a thumbs-up. “I see him,” he said. “There’s a hedge behind the house that separates it from what looks like a park. Can you put it down on that side of the hedge?”

“Sure thing,” the pilot said. Well past the house now, he swung inland.

Dino felt the deceleration and heard the chopper’s noise decline. “They must have some sort of quiet mode,” he said to Rosie.

“That’s right,” the pilot said, “we do. With the house and the hedge between us, he probably won’t hear us land.”

“Perfect,” Dino said. He looked out the window at the enormous beach houses. “Abney must have a very old house,” he said to Rosie. “His is a lot smaller than the others, and on less land.”

The chopper slowed again and Dino could look over the pilot’s shoulder through the windshield and see their landing spot coming. “Tighten your seat belt,” he said to Rosie.

“Can I take the train back?” Rosie asked. She was looking a little pale.

“Sissy!” Dino said, and he heard the pilot chuckle.

“Fifty feet and descending,” the pilot said. “How long will you be?”

“Just long enough to drag the bastard back here by his ears,” Dino said. “Keep it running.” The machine touched down and Dino opened the door and jumped out, followed closely by Rosie.

“Solid ground!” Rosie yelled, gleefully.

“Come on, we’ve got to find a break in this hedge,” Dino said, trotting along the twelve-foot-high thicket. “There’s no going through the thing.” They came to a road and turned toward the beach. The hedge turned, too. “The driveway’s gotta be along here somewhere,” Dino muttered, slowing down.

“Just ahead,” Rosie said. “You want to go in the back door?”

Dino got to the driveway and peeked around the hedge. A silver BMW was parked in the driveway. “Nah, I want to ruin the guy’s breakfast. Let’s go around.” He unholstered his weapon and held it at his side, as did Rosie, as they walked around the house. At the edge of the porch railing they stopped and looked around the corner. The table, chair, and some dishes were there, but no Abney.

“Which way, boss?”

“I’ll take the front, you go around back. He might be in the kitchen, so watch yourself. Yell out if you have trouble.”

The two parted company, and Dino walked casually around the corner of the porch and up the steps. The front door was open, but the screen door was closed. He tried it: latched. Dino took a credit card from his pocket, slipped it past the jamb, and moved it up, flipping the latch off. The gun at his side, he slipped through the screen door, closing it quietly behind him, then stopped and listened. Nothing. “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Abney,” he called out. “It’s your neighbor. Are you decent?”

He heard the rear screen door slam and heavy footsteps running. “Stop! Police!” he heard Rosie shout, then the footsteps were climbing stairs. “Mr. Abney, it’s the police!” Dino yelled. “Come downstairs with your hands up, or we’ll come up after you!” There was more running upstairs, then the noise stopped in what sounded like the front corner of the house.

Dino walked through the dining room and saw Rosie standing in the kitchen a yard or two from the stairs. She pointed upward, and he nodded. He walked to the stairs, and she joined him. “Follow me up, and walk near the wall. The steps will squeak less there.”

Rosie nodded. “Gotcha, boss.”

Dino started up the stairs slowly, his back to the wall and his gun pointed upward. At the top of the stairs, he stuck his head out for a second, then snatched it back. “Hallway,” he said to Rosie. “Mr. Abney! NYPD! Step into the hall, and let me see your hands in the air!”

“Go away!” a voice yelled back. “You can’t come into my home!”

“Mr. Abney, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest for murder, attempted murder, and assault on a police officer! I can do anything I want, and your house is surrounded by a SWAT team. Would you rather have them come in after you?”

Silence.

Dino stepped up the last step and into the hallway. Staying close to the wall, he moved quietly along toward an open doorway, perhaps twelve feet away.

“Ready?” he whispered to Rosie.

She nodded.

Dino swung around and charged through the door, his weapon extended. Abney was standing near a window, a gun pointed at his temple.

“Put the gun down, Abney, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Dino said.

Abney didn’t move. “Go ahead, shoot me.”

“Now, why would you want me to do that?” Dino asked. “You’ve got years of life ahead of you, all of them in prison. You’ll love it-lots of sex.”

“I’ll shoot myself before I’ll let you take me,” Abney said.

“Go ahead, you son of a bitch!” Dino shouted. “Do us all a favor!”

Abney pulled the trigger, and simultaneously with the noise, the window behind him shattered and blood and brains sprayed all over the wall and the remaining window. Abney collapsed like a felled ox.

Dino walked carefully over to him and kicked the gun away from his body. Dino holstered his weapon and turned to Rosie. “You didn’t hear what I said to him.”

“I didn’t hear anything but the gunshot,” she replied.

“I’ll go call this in,” Dino said. “You go tell the chopper pilot we’re going to be an hour or two. Tell him to call his dispatcher and see if he can wait. If he can’t, he can go, and we’ll take the train back.”

Rosie nodded and headed for the stairs.

Dino looked around the bedroom. It was sweetly decorated, frilly, even. There was nothing remarkable about it: a couple of department-store prints, some yellow curtains, now bloodstained, a bed, unmade.

He walked back down the stairs, got out his cell phone, and called his precinct, then asked for the captain.

“Egan,” a gruff voice said.

“It’s Bacchetti,” he said. “I’m at Ed Abney’s house in East Hampton.” He read him the address. “Abney blew his brains out while we watched.”

“Saves us a lot of trouble,” the captain said. “You want me to get the locals to the house?”

“I don’t see any way around it. I’ll make sure the scene is properly secured and lots of photographs taken, and Rosie and I will give them statements, then we’ll chopper back to the city. My car is at the West Side helipad.”

“Good work, Dino,” the captain said. “You want me to get out a press release, or wait for you?”

“Go ahead. Just say that we gave him every opportunity to surrender, but he chose to end his life. And say that his death solves the murder of Annette Redfield.”

“It will be done.” The captain hung up.

So did Dino. He took a seat on the living room sofa and called Abney’s office.

“Bright Lights, Ink,” the receptionist said.

“This is Lieutenant Bacchetti. I was there earlier today.”

“Yes, sir, I remember.”

“Let me speak to Margie.”

“One moment.”

“This is Margie.”

“It’s Lieutenant Bacchetti. I’m at Abney’s East Hampton house.”

“Did you get him?”

“He got himself-blew half his head off to keep from going to jail.”

She let out a long sigh. “I had a feeling,” she said. “I’ve got his will right here. It was in my safe.” She giggled. “He left me everything: the business, his apartment, the Hamptons house.”

“Congratulations!”

“I won’t be needing any partners. If you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant, I need to get my people together and explain things to them before this breaks on the news.”

“It’ll be on the six o’clock shows.”

“I’ll have time to contact our clients before then,” she said. “Goodbye, Lieutenant, and thanks!” She hung up.

DINO WAS still sitting on the living room sofa when the East Hampton cops arrived.