Death Benefits

24

The plane came in over Logan International at sunrise, so its circling to take its turn at the runway kept bringing the sun into Walker’s eyes. He said, “Want me to rent the car this time?”

“I think we’d better wait on that,” Stillman answered. “A place that small, I’d like to try to sneak up on it.”

Stillman’s description was accurate. They took a cab from Boston to Lowell, then a second cab across the New Hampshire border into Nashua, where Stillman had them dropped off at a car-rental agency beside an enormous shopping center. He rented a black Ford Explorer. He took a second look at the rental papers and said, “Pretty good. There’s no sales tax here.”

As they put their suitcases in the back, Stillman looked at his watch. “I’ve got to do some shopping. Let’s drive over to that mall.”

From then on, Walker seemed to spend most of his time going in and out of the mall entrance. Every time he returned from stowing Stillman’s purchases in the back of the Explorer, Stillman had another load for him. Once he found Stillman in an electronics store, and later at a bookstore, then at a luggage store. Finally, he returned to find him at a large food court strolling from counter to counter surveying the menus.

They bought food and carried it on trays to a quiet table. Walker said, “I can see why the sales tax would be an issue for you.”

Stillman smiled. “I’m just trying to make our stay in New Hampshire a safe and happy one, as my new guidebook says.”

“So far it hasn’t been bad,” said Walker. “Kind of a roundabout way to get there, though.”

“I suspect the number of men who come to a rural area on vacation wearing three-thousand-dollar suits is pitifully small. We’ve got to be reasonably inconspicuous. I also suspect that a car with New Hampshire plates draws a little less attention than one with out-of-state plates. The tinted windows might help keep our faces from becoming too familiar. And I picked up a few things that are easier to get here than in a small town.”

“How much more do you have to do?”

“That’s it. Now we eat. By the time we’re done, people on the West Coast should be up and at their desks.”

When they had eaten, they split up again to find pay telephones. Walker’s was in a hallway that led to rest rooms. One of the phones was being used by a young woman in a paper cap and a maroon shirt that was the uniform of the Mexican-food stand where he had bought his lunch. She was talking in dramatically inflected Spanish, and it sounded to him as though she was giving a disparaging assessment of whoever was on the other end of the line.

He moved in beside her, picked up the unused telephone, and dialed Gochay’s number.

“Yeah?” He would have been relieved that it was Serena’s voice once again, but the tone was cold.

“It’s me again,” said Walker. “Right now I’m thinking about that little spot right in front of your ear, where the skin is unbelievably smooth and white. I wish I could put my lips there and tell you a secret.”

The girl beside him spun her head, gave him an approving smile, then raised her free hand in a thumbs-up sign. Walker returned the smile uneasily and she turned away to continue her own conversation.

Serena said skeptically, “Did somebody tell you to say that?”

“Of course not. Who would tell me that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you read it in one of those magazines they give you on airplanes.”

“No,” he said. “This time it was about places I can’t afford to go, and diseases I hope I don’t have. I spent most of the time trying to figure out why I don’t understand you.”

“Who do you think you understand?” The question made Walker lapse into silence for a moment, but she was already on to another subject. “You were in the Miami papers again.”

“Did it say whether the police had found out who those two guys were?”

“If they know, they aren’t saying. I’ll see what I can find out about that too,” she said. “You’re on a pay phone again, aren’t you? My caller ID doesn’t say anything. Are you in New Hampshire yet?”

“I’m in Nashua, in a mall. We’ll be leaving for Keene when I hang up.”

“I checked it out for you.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Sure. The state amphibian is the spotted newt. The state motto is ‘Live free or die,’ and the song is ‘Old New Hampshire.’ I’d hum a few bars, but I’ve never heard it.”

“I guess that’s all I need to know.”

“Keene has only twenty-two thousand people, but that makes it the largest city in that part of the state, so it’s where people in the villages around there shop.”

“Villages? We’re talking villages?”

“They’re all little places with a few hundred people. Think of a place that used to have a textile mill that closed fifty years ago. Now it’s dairy cows and tourists. Figure a church with a steeple, the old mill, covered bridges, and a lot of antique shops. Tell Stillman not to shop around for hospitals. There’s only one.”

“He’ll like that.”

“He should. Go back to him and get this over with. Let me know where you are.” The line went dead. He put the receiver back in its cradle and walked back along the mall.

He saw Stillman drinking a cup of coffee near the exit to the parking lot. He was staring out at the soft gray light beyond, apparently lost in thought. But when Walker was still a hundred feet away, Stillman stepped outside and walked toward the Explorer, paying attention to keeping his cup level.

When Walker caught up with him, Stillman handed him the car keys. “Do you mind driving?”

“No.” Walker took the keys and climbed in, then watched Stillman step in beside him, guarding his coffee.

Stillman held out his cup. “Want a sip? I figured one of us had to drive, so I only got one.”

“No, thanks. Where am I going?”

“North on 3, west on 101 to Keene. It’s sixty-two miles.”

Walker drove out on the highway, then began to watch for signs. When he had found 101 and was up to speed, he said, “Did you find out anything on the phone?”

“Our two unnamed assailants are still unnamed. Their photographs haven’t rung any bells, their prints aren’t on file anyplace, their guns were stolen from a store in California a couple of years ago. The FBI told Rex McClaren they’re doing a lot of lab work.”

“What kind of lab work?”

“Beats me,” Stillman said. “They don’t mind wasting money, but they don’t seem to think they are. Rex got the impression that their interest was piqued by something they found that they’re not talking about.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that’s what Rex wishes. Probably it’s just that they’re wondering why they don’t already have fingerprints for two guys like that. You can’t blame Rex for wishful thinking, though. He’s aware that he has some responsibility to protect the people who work for him, but he’s not sure how to go about it.” Stillman fell into silence and sipped his coffee.

Walker drove to Keene past New England towns like the ones Serena had described: Wilton, West Wilton, Peterborough, West Peterborough, Dublin, Marlborough. Keene was the same sort of place, but bigger and livelier. Main Street was wide and pleasant, and led up to a circle with a town hall and an eighteenth-century church with a tall steeple. Here and there along the street were buildings that had probably been here since the Revolution, but as the numbers grew higher, the buildings seemed more modern and functional. There were restaurants, stores, a movie theater.

They drove around for ten minutes, looking. Finally, Stillman said, “Well? What do you think of it?”

“It’s not all that different from little towns in Ohio,” said Walker. “A lot older, I guess. But the people don’t seem any different. It doesn’t look like the sort of place where either of those guys in Florida would choose to live.”

“True,” said Stillman. “But does it look like a place you’d drive to from New York or Boston to get your optical work done?”