Death of a Blue Movie Star

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sam Healy and Rune lay in bed, watching the lights on the ceiling, reflecting off the Hudson River.

Healy was feeling pretty good. He wanted to say, Not bad for an old guy. Or something like that. But he was remembering about times like this-and that was one thing he remembered clearly: You didn't talk about yourself.

Now, for this moment, maybeonly for this moment, there were two of them and that was all that mattered. He could talk about her or about both of them… But then he remembered something else: Sometimes it's best not to say anything at all.

Rune was curled against him, twirling his chest hair into piggy tails. "Ouch," he said.

"Do you think people live happily ever after?" "No." She didn't react to that and he continued. "I think it's like a cycle. You know, happy sometimes, unhappy others."

She said, "I think they can." A tug went by. Healy pulled the sheet over him.

"They can't see in…" She pulled the sheet down and kept twisting hair. "Why do you disarm bombs?"

"I'm good at it."

She grinned and rubbed her head against his chest. "You're good at other things too but I hope not professionally."

There. She was talking abouthim. That was okay.

"It sets you apart. Not many people want to disarm bombs."

"IEDs," Rune corrected. "Why'd you become a cop in the first place?"

"Gotta make a living doing something."

Rune disappeared for a moment and came back with two beers. The icy condensation dripped on him.

"Hey."

She kissed him.

He said, "You want a present?"

"I like Herkimer crystals and blue topaz. Gold is always good. Silver if it's thick."

"How about information?"

Rune sat up. "You found a suspect in a red wind-breaker?"

"Nope."

"You found fingerprints on one of the Angel letters?"

"Nope. But I did find out something about the explosives in the second bombing."

"And you're going to tell me?"

"Yep."

"Why?" she asked, smiling.

He didn't know. But at least this was somethinghe was saying abouther. And it seemed to make her happy.

"Because."

"What about them?" she asked.

"They were stolen from a military base. A place called Fort Ord in Monterey. Whoever did it got away with-"

"California?" Rune asked, sitting up, pulling the sheet off Healy and around herself.

"Right."

She was frowning. "Monterey is where Shelly and Tommy used to live."

"Who?"

"Tommy Savorne. Her old boyfriend. He still lives there."

Healy tugged back more of the covers. "So?"

"Well, it's just kind of a coincidence, doesn't it seem?"

"The explosives were stolen over a year ago."

"I guess." Rune lay back down. A moment later, she said, "He's in town, you know." "Tommy?" She nodded. "He's been in town since before the first bombing." A tug hooted. One of the Trump helicopters cruised low, making its run from Atlantic City.

Rune and Healy looked at each other.

Healy stood at the pay phone across from the dock while Rune tugged at his arm.

"He might have been in Nam. He's about that age. He'd know how to-"

"Shhh." Healy motioned at Rune, then began speaking into the phone, "Officer Two-five-five on a landline. Patch me into ops coordinator at the Sixth."

"Roger, Two-five-five. He's in the field. Give me your number we'll have him call back on landline."

"Negative, Central. This is urgent. I need that coordinator now."

A long pause, then static, then a voice saying, "Hey, Sam. It's Brad. Whasshappenin'?"

"I may have a suspect in the porn bombings. Check CATCH, National Crime Database and Army CID. Tell me what you got on a Thomas or Tommy Savorne. I'll wait."

"Spelled?"

Healy looked at Rune. "Spelled?"

She shrugged.

"Guess."

Two minutes later the ops coordinator came back on the line.

"Got yourself a bad boy, homes. Thomas A. Savorne, private first class, LKA Fort Ord in California. Present whereabouts unknown. Dishonorably discharged a year and a half ago as part of plea bargain with JA's office for an agreement to drop court-martial proceedings. The charge was theft of government property. A codefendant was court-martialed and served eleven months on one count of theft and one count of weapons possession. Sam, the codefendant still lives out there and is believed to be dealing in arms. FBI hasn't been able to nail him yet."

"Damn… What'd Savorne do in service?"

"Engineer."

"So he knows demolition."

"Something about it, I'd guess."

Healy spun to Rune. "Where is he? You have any idea?"

"No…" And then she remembered. "Oh, Jesus, Sam-he was going over to Shelly's friend's place tonight. Maybe he's going to hurt her too." She gave him Nicole's name and address.

"Okay, Brad, listen up," Healy said. "Got a possible Ten-thirty in progress, one-four-five West Fifty-seventh. Apartment?"

He looked at Rune, who said, "I don't remember. Her last name's D'Orleans."

Healy repeated the name. "Subject probably armed, maybe with plastic, and it looks like a possible hostage. situation."

"I'll get ESU rolling."

"One other thing… The guy's probably emotionally disturbed."

"Oh, some kind of fucking wonderful, Sam. An EDP with plastic and a hostage. I'll doyou a favor someday. Ten-four."

"Two-five-five out."

Rune was getting her arguments ready-to talk him into letting her come with him. But there was no problem with that. Healy said, "Come on, let's hustle. I'll get a squad car at the Sixth."

West Fifty-seventh Street was lit up likea carnival. Flashing lights, blue-and-white cars and Emergency Service Unit trucks parked in the street. The big Bomb Squad truck, with its TCV chamber on a trailer, was parked near the canopied entrance.

But there wasn't much of a sense of urgency.

Two of the ESU guys, holding those black machine guns-like they used in Vietnam-leaned against the doorway, smoking. Their hats were on backwards. They looked awfully young-like stickball players from the Bronx.

So, Rune understood, they'd gotten here in time. They'd moved fast and caught Tommy. It was all over. She looked for Nicole. What a surprise she'd have had. The knock, the door bursting open, cops pointing guns at Tommy.

He'd been the one all along, the killer. How had she read him so wrong? How had he looked so innocent? The one in the red windbreaker. Ah, the cowboy hat too. And the ruddy face-not from a tan at all but from the tear gas.

Jealousy. He'd killed her out of jealousy.

Healy stopped her as they got close to the building. "Hold up here. This isn't for you."

"But-"

He just waved his hand and she stopped. He vanished into the building. The night was punctuated with radio messages broadcast over the police cars' loudspeakers. Lights whipped around in elliptical orbits.

Rune turned on the camera and opened the aperture to take natural-light shots of the scene of them bringing Tommy out.

Motion. Men appeared.

She aimed the camera toward the door.

But he wasn't in handcuffs. God, they'd shot him! Tommy was dead, on a gurney, covered with a bloody sheet.

She felt her legs weaken as she kept the camera on the door, trying hard for a steady shot-the matter-of-fact attendants wheeling Tommy's body down from the apartment.

A grim, moving end to the film.

And Shelly Lowe's murderer died just the same way he had killed-violently. It is a fitting epitaph from the Bible-fitting for someone who concocted religious fanatics to cover up his crimes: He who lives by the sword dies by the sword…

The image through the viewfinder went black as a figure from the crowd walked up to her.

Rune looked up.

Sam Healy said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"We didn't make it in time."

Rune didn't understand. "You mean to get a confession?"

But?-" Rune nodded with her head toward the back of the ambulance.

"Tommy was gone when they got here, Rune. Thats… Nicole's body."