Witness in Death

TO BE OPENED IN THE EVENT OF MY DEATH

Yes, that had a nice ring, a dramatic touch. One never wants to lose one's sense of style, even under pressure. Particularly under pressure. The pills are where they can be easily reached, should they be needed. A last resort, of course, but they'll be quick. They 'll be gentle.

"Do not go gentle into that good night." Well, what the hell did he know? If it comes down to death or prison, death is preferable.

Life is a series of choices. One twists into the next, and the path shifts. It never really rides straight, unless there are no joys, no sorrows. I would always prefer the road that wanders. I made my choices, for better or worse, they were mine to make. I take full responsibility for the results of those choices.

Even Richard Draco. No, especially Richard Draco. His life was not a series of choices, but a compilation of cruel acts, small and large. Everyone he touched was damaged somehow. His death does not weigh on my conscience. What he did, knowingly, deliberately, viciously, deserved extermination.

I only wish there had been pain, great waves of pain, huge sweeps of knowledge, of fear, of grief in that instant before the knife pierced his heart.

But in pla

Should I be given the opportunity to do it over again, I would change nothing. I will not feign remorse for disposing of a leech.

I have some regret for luring Linus Quim to his death. It was necessary, and God knows he was an ugly, cold-hearted little man. My choice could have been to pay him off, but blackmail is a kind of disease, isn't it? Once the body is infected by it, it spreads and returns at inopportune moments. Why risk it?

Still, it brought me no pleasure to arrange his death. In fact, it was necessary to sedate my nerves and anxiety. I made certain he felt no pain, no fear, but died with the illusion of pleasure.

But that, I suppose, doesn't negate the act of ending yet another life.

I thought I was so clever, staging Richard's murder in front of so many, knowing that all those surrounding him had reason to wish him harm. There was such a whippy thrill at the idea of having the knife Christine Vole would plunge into the black, miserable heart of Leonard Vole be a real one. It was so beautifully apt.

I regret and apologize for causing my friends and associates any distress, putting them, even for the short term, under any suspicion. Foolish of me, foolish to have believed it would never go this far.

No one, I told myself, cared about Richard. His death would be mourned by no one who knew him except with crocodile tears turned to glimmer on pale cheeks for the audience.

But I miscalculated. Lieutenant Dallas cares. Oh, not about Richard perhaps. She has certainly unearthed enough truth about him by this time to stir her disgust. But she cares about the law. I believe it's her religion, this standing for the murdered dead.

I realized that very soon after looking into her eyes. After all, I've spent my life studying people, measuring them, mimicking them.

In the end, I've done what I set out to do, what I believe with all my heart and soul I had to do. I have, ruthlessly perhaps, righted incalculable wrongs.

Isn't that justice?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Anja Carvell was beautiful, with the curvy body style women sweat or pay for. And men fall for. Her mouth was full, sensuous, and painted with the gleam of polished copper. Her skin had the delicate sheen of gold dust so that with the smoked red of her hair, the tawny eyes, she resembled a flame barely banked to simmer.

She sent Eve a long, level look, shifted her gaze briefly to Peabody, then stepped back, widening the door into her modest suite.

"Thank you for coming so quickly. I realized after we spoke that I should have offered to come to you."

"It's no problem."

"Well, you'll forgive me, I trust, for not knowing the proper procedure in such matters as this. My experience with people in your profession is severely limited. I've ordered a pot of chocolate."

She gestured to the living area where a white pot and two matching cups sat on a low table. "Would you care to join me? It's so cold and gloomy out. I'll just get another cup for your assistant."

"Don't bother." Eve heard, and ignored, Peabody's soft, windy sigh at her back. "You go ahead."

"In that case, shall we sit down?"

Anja led the way to the sofa, smoothed her long bronze colored skirts, then lifted the pot. There was quiet music playing, something with a bird trill of piano. A squat vase of cabbage roses stood beside the lamp. Their fragrance, and the woman's, perfumed the room.

It was, Eve thought, a pretty and civilized scene.

"I came to New York only last night," Anja began. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoy the city. The rush and energy of it. The heat of it, even in this endless winter. You Americans fill all the spaces and still find more."

"Where did you come in from?"

"Montreal." She sipped her chocolate, balanced the cup with the same female delicacy Eve had often admired in Mira. "Lieutenant, I'm afraid Ke

"Ms. Carvell, I need your permission to record this conversation."

"Oh." After one disconcerted blink, Anja nodded. "Yes, of course. I suppose it must be done officially."

"Record on, Peabody." As Eve recited the standard rights and obligations, Anja's eyes widened with surprise, then warmed again with what might have been amusement.

"Am I a suspect then?"

"It's procedure. For your protection. Do you understand the rights and obligations I've outlined for you?"

"Yes, you were quite clear."

"Ms. Carvell, why did you come to New York from Montreal yesterday?"

"Ke

"And why is that?"

"Ke

"The kind and gentle man put Richard Draco in the hospital twenty-four years ago after a violent assault."

Anja made an impatient sound, and her cup clicked into her saucer. "The rashness of youth. Must a man be hounded by a single foolish act committed so long ago? An act committed out of love and concern?"

"Whatever we do follows us, Ms. Carvell."

"I don't believe that. I'm proof a life can be changed through will." Her hand curled tight a moment, as if making a fist of that will. "Lieutenant Dallas, when I saw Ke

"When did you see him last?"

"About eight o'clock. We met in a little club. I believe it was called Alley Cat."

"Yes, I know it."

"We spoke over drinks. It was then he told me he's given you my name, that you would look for me in regard to my one-time relationship with Richard."

Her smile bloomed as beautifully as the roses beside her. "He wanted to warn me, you see, so that I could hide myself, spare myself the discomfort of a meeting such as this. I calmed him as best I could and told him I would speak with you."

"He hasn't contacted you again?"

"No. I hope to speak with him after we're done here, hope to be able to reassure him that you no longer believe he could have done this thing."

"Ke