Secret Prey

TWENTY-FIVE

MORGAN BITE HAD SUCH A BEATIFIC LOOK ON HIS face as he stood at the edge of the Bite Brothers parking lot, at the end of the line of black Cadillac limousines, still holding the check, that Audrey McDonald actually thought of killing him; actually thought that after she received all the money she was due, after all the legal matters were cleared away, after all the police were gone, she might come back some night and murder the man, for the simple pleasure of doing it.

Bite was speaking in clicheґs:… able to achieve such a natural appearance that the loved one seems to be undoubtedly present among us…

She wanted to say, Yes-yes-yes, and run away down the sidewalk; she limped instead, putting on a stunned expression, as though she might at any moment suffer a relapse. Though, now that she thought of it, Bite might find a relapse attractive, given his profession.

… not regret this in any way, and do not hesitate for a moment to call me at any time, day or night, with any concerns…

Shed just given him a blank check to handle Wilsons funeralwell, blank to the tune of twenty-five thousand dollars, which he thought would be adequate to protect Wilsons image in the business community. Whenever shed mentioned anything having to do with Wilsons death, Bite had seemed intimately aware of every detail, while somehow remaining unaware that shed had anything to do with it. Come to think of it, she sort of liked that. Maybe she wouldnt kill him.

Well: She could decide that some other time.

Audrey McDonald came with a full set of the negative emotions: hate, anguish and anger, pain, fear, dread and loathing were her daily bread, illuminated by an active imagination. Love and pleasure were not quite a mystery. She thought she might have loved Wilson, and her parents, and even Helen. She felt pleasure with the prospect of moneynot with what it could buy, but the lucre itself; she loved handling it, reading account statements. She had talked Wilson into buying a hundred gold coins, American Eagles, which she kept in a box in a cubbyhole in the kitchen. Once a week she would take them out and handle them, so smooth, so beautiful and cool to the touch.

And she certainly felt pleasure with the prospect of killing.

Killing was the most interesting thing shed ever done, and that alone was a powerful attraction. Added to the attraction was the simple reality that a killing was always done to decrease her own fearfear of poverty, fear of helplessness, fear of low statusand to increase the amount of money she would someday have. So far, she hadnt killed idly: so far, shed always made a profit on her killings.

But it was dread that hung over her fifteen minutes after she left Bite Brothers, as she pulled the car to the curb in front of her sisters house. Helen had been talking to Davenport again: shed called to confess it, and to admit that shed written to Davenport that Wilson had killed people.

But Wilson hadnt. She had. And if Davenport was still sniffing around, he might trip over something inconvenient. She was beginning to fear the man, not because he seemed to be particularly bright, orespecially hard-driving, or even mean, but because he simply wouldnt go away. Now he was visiting Helen. This was all supposed to be done with. What did he want?

Helen was standing in the doorway as she limped up the sidewalk. Putting on the limp.

Im sorry, Helen said. He was hurting you so badly that I dont think I had a choice.

Audrey nodded abruptly and let Helen take her coat at the door. Still hurt, she mumbled. And she looked terrible. The bruises were going yellow, and her hair, unwashed since the attack, looked like sticky pieces of dirty brown kite string.

Let me get you a coffee, Helen said, bustling around.

Why arent you working? Audrey asked. Audrey hadnt worked since Wilsons second promotion, the one that carried him into mortgages. Shed always talked about Helens having a career in a way that made both Helen and her ex-husband feel like rag-pickers.

I had personal time coming, and since the fight with Wilson, I thought… I just thought I ought to be around, Helen said from the kitchen. She appeared a moment later with the coffee. How are you?

Audrey shook her head: I still hurt. I still feel like Ive been in an auto accident… and Wilson… She sniffed.

Whens the funeral?

They released him today. His fathers secretary called and said his father wanted to handle the funeral, but I said no, I would handle it. Its at Bite Brothers, day after tomorrow, at two oclock.

Ill take you, Helen said.

Thank you. I think we should go in Wilsons Lexus, though.

No problem; Ill come over to your place with Connie, and well all go together in the Lexus.

They talked for a few minutes about the funeral, sipping the coffee as they talked. Then Audrey asked, What all did Detective Davenport want to talk about?

Oh, he just figured out that I was the one who wrotethe letter about Wilson, Helen said. And he wanted to know why I thought Wilson did it.

You know, Im not sure Wilson did all those things, Audrey said tentatively.

Helen looked away, flushing just a bit; this embarrassed her. Oh, Audrey… I know you loved him.

Yes. And sometimes… I dont know.

What? Helen asked. Audrey almost never opened up. Now she seemed about to.

I sometimes wondered myself. Something you dont knowand please dont tell Detective Davenport this, I mean, Wilson is gonebut I began to wonder myself. And after Andy Ingall disappeared on his boat, well, Wilson was gone the night before. He came home at three oclock in the morning, and hed been drinking, and we had an awful fight. And the next day, Andy sailed away. Thats when I began to wonder.

You should have said something, Helen said.

I… really did love him, Audrey said. And he loved me. Nobody ever loved me before, no man did. Im not so good-looking as you are. ..

Oh, shut up, Audrey, Helen said. As soon as this is all over with, well take you to a friend of mine for a makeover, and youll be amazed. Youll have guys coming around. Youve got the whole rest of your life to look forward to.

Unless they send me to jail, Audrey said piteously.

No way, Helen declared. I asked Detective Davenport about that, and he said that the county attorney was ready to declare that it was self-defense. Which it obviously was…

Audrey perked up a bit at that. Maybe Icoulddo a makeover, she said, brushing some of her sticky hair away from her face. That would be good…

So youll be okay?

I think so. I have to go now, theres more funeral things to be done. I talked to Wilsons father; he seemed to think the whole thing was like a bad business deal. I was afraidhed hate me. But he didnt seem any different.

Well, you know the old man, Helen said. Shed met him two or three times at the McDonalds house; he was, she thought, a spectacular horses ass. Though usually, they say, having a child die is the worst thing that can happen to a person.

Not for that old man; he is a monster, Audrey said.

I was just talking about our folks with Detective Davenport, Helen said. Shed gone to get Audreys coat from a chair, and didnt see her sister jerk around toward her.

What?

Oh, you know, we were just talking, nothing serious, Helen said, as she held the coat.

I mean, about them dying, or just that they were gone?

Nothing, reallyjust something that came up in passing.

Hewassniffing around. Audrey didnt push it, because it seemed unlikely to produce much, and she didnt want Helen wondering about the conversation. But she would have to think about this. Go after Davenport directly? That was one possibility, as long as it wouldnt push more investigators her way. As for Helen, she had to do something to interrupt this relationship with Davenport, which was altogether too cozy.

All this was going through her head as she went through the forms of departure, ending with, So youll be at the house at noon?

Noon, Helen said. And if you need anything before then, call me. Please. This is the reason I took the time off.

When Audrey pulled away from the curb, Helen was still at the door. Audrey touched the horn, emitting a polite Japanese tone, and thought, Connie.