Blood Lite

Mrs. Williams stooped to the bright red toolbox at her feet and picked up a claw hammer. I was momentarily paralyzed with astonishment because it seemed such a purposeful act that my earlier fear, that she wasn't dead after all, came back full force. Then she was moving and her arm was going up and I realized what she intended and started after her, but of course it was too late. She hit him from behind and I didn't think she could have exerted enough force to do much damage, but Bert slumped for­ward on his face with a grunt. He wasn't moving.

When I reached his side a second later, he wasn't breathing, either.

Mrs. Williams was just standing there, her face neu­tral, and she didn't resist when I took the hammer from her hand. Then I realized my mistake, took out my hand­kerchief, and wiped the handle to remove my fingerprints. "Mrs. Williams?" I asked, barely above a whisper. She didn't answer, didn't even seem to hear me.

I thought about taking her away and returning to my original plan. I could tell the police I'd spotted her while out for a, walk. But Bert complicated things. His death was obviously no accident. I didn't think anyone had seen me there, but I couldn't be certain. For a minute or two I stood, unable to think clearly, and then the sound of children shouting somewhere close by made me panic. The back door to Bert's house was unlocked. I took Mrs. Wil­liams by the elbow and brought her inside, shut her in the bathroom. Then I carried Bert in through the kitchen to the garage. His station wagon was there and a few minutes of searching turned up his keys. I bundled his inert body into the back and covered it with a blanket.

I wasn't thinking clearly, obviously, but I wanted to buy some time. Bert's wife would be home from work in another hour or two and I didn't want her, or anyone else, to find the body until I had a plan. I collected Mrs. Wil­liams, who was perfectly docile now, and put her in the backseat. It was taking a chance to drive Bert's car but I hoped to have it out of sight before anyone took particular notice. Five minutes later it was inside my garage, and I had closed the curtains on the windows so that no one could look in and see it. No problem.

I went inside to look for some clothesline, intending to restrain Mrs. Williams, but before I could find any, the doorbell rang. It was Gus Robinson, who wanted to tell me that a squad car had stopped by looking for me.

"Why are they looking for me?" My voice trembled.

Gus shrugged. "He didn't say, just asked me to tell you that he'd stop back later." Gus seemed to want to talk, maybe hoping I was privy to some delicious secret, and I didn't want to make him suspicious by being too anxious to have him leave, so it took another couple of minutes to get rid of him. Even so, I was forced to be rather abrupt, and there was an odd look on his face when he left. I found the clothesline and went out to the garage.

Mrs. Williams was gone.

I ran quickly from room to room and noticed that the patio doors were open. I was sure I had closed them so I went outside, resisting the temptation to call her name. She wasn't likely to respond to it anyway, and someone might hear me. I ran around to the side yard, slowed when I saw Gus across the street. I didn't think he'd seen me, so I retreated around the corner of the house quickly. Then I went next door, climbing the fence so I couldn't be spot­ted, and searched the cottage. There was no sign of Mrs. Willliams.

I went back inside, telling myself that it wasn't a prob­lem. If she was gone, I could just revert to my original plan. She'd collapse in a few hours anyway and there was nothing to co

Once I'd decided on a plan, I felt better, but then I started to worry again. What about rigor mortis? What if the body was so stiff that I couldn't get it into position? Maybe I should prop it up in the passenger seat now. I started for the garage.

And heard something move.

Was it possible that Bert hadn't been killed after all? I opened the door to the garage with my heart in my throat, then felt a mixture of relief and shock. It wasn't Bert who was moving; it was Mrs. Williams. Somehow I'd missed her and she'd come back. She was standing at the rear of the station wagon, staring down through the open rear window at Bert's inert body. I walked around to stand beside her, already working on a new scenario.

Something glittered in her right hand. It was a hypo­dermic needle. One of mine. In fact, it was the same one I'd used to inject her with serum. I'd only used half but it was almost empty now.

Bert rolled over and sat up.

My chest began to hurt and I realized that I was laugh­ing, great gasping sobs of laughter. I forced myself to calm down. Bert's body seemed content to remain where it was, so I turned to Mrs. Williams, relieved her of the hypo­dermic, and led her away. She didn't struggle while I tied her to the tool bench. I would have to find some way of restraining Bert next, but I'd barely begun to consider that problem when the doorbell rang again. I went into the house, closing the garage door behind me.

It was Officer Tremblay again. "Would you mind if I came in a moment, sir?"

I offered him a seat, which he politely refused. "I'm fol­lowing up on your neighbor, Mrs. Williams. You haven't seen her since your first report, have you?"

"No," I lied.

"Well, we've had a call from a Mrs. Pereira a couple of blocks from here. She said an elderly woman who fits the description walked past her house about two hours ago. She said the woman had blood on her face and seemed dazed. If she'd called in at the time, we might have been able to find her, but she kept quiet until her conscience started to bother her. We just wanted to make sure that we're not looking for two separate women." He read a description of Mrs. Williams's clothing from his notebook and I confirmed that she'd been dressed identically when I'd last seen her.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Franken."

"I just hope it helps," I said with mock sincerity. Offi­cer Tremblay turned toward the door and I started for­ward to open it.

There was a loud thump from the garage. We both heard it, but I pretended not to. "Are you alone here, Mr. Franken?"

"Yes, I am, officer. Something must have fallen over. It's nothing to worry about."

"I'm sure that's the case, but I was wondering if it might be the missing lady wandering again."

"The garage door is locked." Something in my man­ner must have betrayed me because he was immediately suspicious.

"Would you mind if I had a look, sir?"

I searched for a rational reason to object, but Tremblay didn't wait for one. He started toward the kitchen and I was forced to trail along in his wake. My heart sank and I knew this was the end. He'd see Mrs. Williams as soon as he stepped into the garage.

He wasted no time and I saw the way his head snapped up as the door opened. His hand was dropping to his weapon as he spun around to face me. "Please raise your hands, Mr. Franken."

I slowly began to do as I was told, but I never com­pleted the movement. A crowbar flashed through the air, bouncing off his skull, and Officer Tremblay dropped like a stone. It was Bert, of course. Even dead, he hated the police with a passion. The crowbar rose and fell twice more before I ran forward and took it away from Bert. By then Mrs. Williams had untied herself, and she was staggering around the garage, apparently trying to stab Bert with the hypodermic, which she'd retrieved from the shelf where I'd put it.