Hit List

“I know who he is,” he said. “I just misheard you, because I didn’t know we were having a literary discussion. He was a physician as well as a writer, and he wrote plays and short stories. What about him?”

“He said if you show a gun in Act One, you’d better have it go off before the final curtain.” She frowned. “At least I think it was Chekhov. Maybe it was somebody else.”

“Well, it didn’t go off,” he said, “but at least I found a use for it. He had it in his hand with his finger on the trigger, and he had a round in the chamber, and if they happen to look they’ll find traces of gun oil on his lips.”

“Now that’s a nice touch.”

“It’s great,” he agreed, “as long as there’s a body to examine, but what if he wakes up? He realizes he’s got a gun in his hand, and he looks up, and there I am.” He shrugged. “As jumpy as I was, I didn’t have a lot of trouble imagining it that way. But it didn’t happen.”

“You checked him and he was nice and dead.”

“I didn’t check. I gave him ten minutes with the engine ru

“And he evidently didn’t,” she said, motioning at the money. “And everybody’s happy.” She cocked her head. “Wouldn’t there be marks on his neck from the choke hold?”

“Maybe. Would they even notice? He’s in a car, he’s got a hose hooked up, he’s holding a gun, his bloodstream’s bubbling over with carbon monoxide…”

“If I found marks on his neck, Keller, I’d just figure he tried to hang himself earlier.”

“Or choke himself to death with his own hands.”

“Is that possible?”

“Maybe for an advanced student of the martial arts.”

“Ninja roulette,” she said.

He said, “That guy I talked to, thought he was talking to Inside Edition? I asked if there were any other colorful murders in town.”

“Something worthy of national coverage.”

“He told me more than I needed to know about some cocaine dealer who got gu

“Never a dull moment in Louisville.”

“He didn’t even mention Hirschhorn. So I guess it’s going in the books as a suicide.”

“Fine with me,” she said, “and the client’s happy, and we got paid, so I’m happy. And the business at the Super Duper wasn’t an attempt on your life…”

“The Super 8.”

“Whatever. It was a couple of cheaters suffering divine retribution.”

“Or bad luck.”

“Aren’t they the same thing? But here’s my question. Everybody else is happy. Why not you, Keller?”

“I’m happy enough.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anybody happier. What did it, the pictures of the kids? And the dog?”

He shook his head. “Once it’s done,” he said, “what’s the difference? It just gets in your way while you’re doing it, but when it’s over, well, dead is dead.”

“Right.”

“One reason I didn’t shoot was I didn’t want them walking in on a mess, but it’s the same shock either way, isn’t it? And don’t people blame themselves when there’s a suicide? ‘How could he have felt that bad and not let on?’ “

“And so on.”

“But none of that’s important. The important thing is to get it done and get away clean.”

“And you did, and that’s why you’re so happy.”

“You know what it is, Dot? I knew something was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I sensed something. I had a feeling. When I get off the plane, when I can’t read the first sign, when I go through a song and dance with the moron who meets me. And later on some drunk turns up at my door and I grab the gun and I’m ready to start blasting away through the door. And it’s just some poor slob who can’t find the right room. He staggers off and never comes back, and I have to lie down and wait for my heart to quit doing the tango.”

“And then the bikers.”

“And then the bikers, and toilet paper in my ears, and the kids with the basketball. Everything was out of synch, and it felt worse than that, it felt dangerous.”

“Like you were in danger?”

“Uh-huh. But I wasn’t. It was the room.”

“The room?”

“Room One forty-seven. Something bad was scheduled to take place there. And I sensed it.”

She gave him a look.

“Dot, I know how it sounds.”

“You don’t,” she said. “Or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it to anybody but you. Remember that girl I was seeing a while ago?”

“As far as I know, you haven’t been seeing anybody since Andria.”

“That’s the one.”

“The dog walker, the one with all the earrings.”

“She used to talk about karma,” he said, “and energy, and vibrations, and things like that. I didn’t always understand what she was saying.”

“Thank God for that.”

“But I think sometimes a person senses things.”

“And you sensed something was wrong.”

“And that something was going to happen.”

“Keller, something always happens.”

“Something violent.”

“When you take a business trip,” she said, “something violent is par for the course.”

“You know what I mean, Dot.”

“You had a premonition.”

“I guess that’s what it was.”

“You checked into a room and just got the feeling that somebody was going to get killed there.”

“Not exactly, because the room felt fine to me.”

“So?”

He looked away for a moment. “I went over all this in my mind,” he said. “Last night, and again coming up here on the train today. And it made sense, but now it’s not coming out right.”

“That’s what they call a reality check, Keller. Keep going.”

“I sensed something bad coming,” he said, “and I was somehow drawn to the place where it was going to happen.”

“Like a moth to a flame.”

“I picked the motel, Dot. I looked at the map, I said here’s where I am, here’s where he lives, here’s the airport, here’s the interstate, and there ought to be a motel right here. And I drove right to it and there it was and I asked for a ground-floor room in the rear. I asked for it!”

“ ‘Give me the death room,’ you said. ‘I’m a man. I can take it.’ “

“And I panicked when the drunk came knocking, because I knew I was in a dangerous place, even if I didn’t know I knew it. That’s why I grabbed the gun, that’s why I reacted the way I did.”

“But it was only a drunk.”

“It was a warning.”

“A warning?”

He drew a breath. “Maybe it was just a drunk looking for Ralph,” he said, “and maybe it was someone sent to get my attention.”

“Sent,” she said.

“I know it sounds crazy.”

“Sent, like an angel?”

“Dot, I’m not sure I even believe in angels.”

“How can you not believe in them? They’re on television where everybody can see them. My favorite’s the young one with the bad Irish accent. Though she’s probably not as young as she looks. She’s probably a thousand years old.”

“Dot…”

“Or whatever that comes to in dog years. You don’t believe in angels? What about the bikers partying upstairs? Angels from Hell, Keller. Pure and simple.”

“Simple,” he said, “but probably not pure. But that’s the whole thing, that’s why they were there.”

“So that you would change your room.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“And you changed your room first thing in the morning.”

“To one in front,” he said. “On the second floor.”

“Out of harm’s way. And later on who came along but two people out of a bad country song, and what room did they get?” She hummed the opening bars of the Dragnet theme. “Dum-de-dum-dum. Dum-de-dum-dum-dah! One forty-seven! The death room!”

“All I know,” he said doggedly, “is a couple of hours later they were dead.”

“While you lived to bear witness.”

“I guess it really does sound weird, doesn’t it?”

“Weirder than weird.”

“It made sense on the train.”