Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 152, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 926 & 927, November/December 2018
- Автор: Ловси Питер, Зельцерман Дэйв
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 152, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 926 & 927, November/December 2018». Краткое содержание книги:
And wasn’t he the better judge of character by dragging his feet on Sonia’s selection — her choice had been a psychotic killer! This was something he could argue with the president of Calypso to his favor. He could get his job back and damage Sonia’s credibility in the bargain!
Feeling more confident now, Stuart took another pull on the bottle, capped it, and tossed it into the glove compartment.
“Home,” he muttered, pulling away from the curb, having already decided that Rita and the kids were to know nothing about the day’s events. What good would it do? Anyway, he would have his job back before missing a single paycheck, he felt sure now.
Arriving at his house, he slid into the driveway and clambered out of the car with some difficulty, leaving the box of his office furnishings in the trunk. Unlike the Twinning household, his own was well lit in the cool darkness of the evening, nearly every window glowing. “Let’s keep the goddamn electric company happy,” he said as he fumbled open the front door.
Rita was waiting for him in the foyer, arms folded across her chest. “Calypso called to say that they forgot to collect your cell phone. Now that you’re no longer employed there they want their property back.”
Stuart thought she looked almost happy about it.
“That bitch...” he snarled, thinking of Sonia Wycliffe’s sharp, foxy face, her long, slender neck, and how good it would feel to put his hands around it and throttle her to death. Instead, he raised his arms to take Rita by the shoulders. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he began. “I’m gonna get my job back, believe me. This is just a misunderstanding that I’ll get—”
“And you’re drunk...” Rita observed, her pretty features frozen in distaste. “Classic.”
“I’m not drunk!” Stuart slurred. “I’m just upset! Who wouldn’t be?”
Shaking free of his grasp, she walked away, answering, “You’ve got that much right, Stu — who wouldn’t be?”
Stuart thought of rushing after her, demanding her loyalty, a loyalty that at one time had been given freely.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” he screamed instead.
Rita spun round, her face no longer frozen, but startled and fearful.
“Don’t you ever walk away from me!” Stuart repeated, advancing on her now, hands clenched into fists.
Tommy appeared in the hallway, eyes wide, mouth open. “Dad...” he began, his normal cockiness forgotten.
Stuart raised a finger in warning. “Not one word, smartass, or I swear I’ll...”
Tommy’s mouth remained open but soundless.
From the corner of his eye Stuart saw Shelia watching from the kitchen, her funereal makeup beginning to run onto her cheeks like black blood, whimpering in fear of the stranger who had broken into their home.
Was this how Brad Twinning had felt at the end, Stuart wondered? Abandoned and despised? It seemed very likely.
He took another step closer to Rita as she raised a hand to her face. Up close, he could see his own reflection in her trembling tears, an image looming and distorted, terrifying and monstrous. Like his wife and children, it seemed that he too had transformed into something unrecognizable.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a shuddering breath, struggling to regain control, praying that no one would say anything, do anything. “It’s been a very stressful day... as you might imagine. I probably shouldn’t have started drinking.” They continued to stare at him, motionless. “I’m going to get everything straightened out, I promise... first thing tomorrow.” He nodded his head in emphasis. Seeing that no one dared respond, he nodded once more and turned away.
Stopping as he opened the front door, he added, “I have to go out for a little while, but I want you and the kids to be here when I come home, Rita. I want all of you here. Don’t make me come looking for you. Yes...?”
“Yes...” Rita answered in a faint voice.
As he drove away, Stuart couldn’t get her face out of his mind, her blanched cheeks, her large startled eyes. “So beautiful,” he thought. “She’s so very beautiful.”
Stuart arrived at the Twinning house after midnight. Before he made the anonymous call, he needed to cleanse the death house of any traces of his previous visit. He had seen enough television police dramas to know that a forensics team would descend on the scene once it was reported. If his prints or DNA turned up after his denial to Sonia of ever having been here, the police might come to the wrong conclusions. So he had made a stop at an all-night pharmacy on his way.
Easing the car door shut, he glanced at the neighboring homes, finding all but a few darkened, the cars in their driveways glistening beneath a sickle-shaped moon. The street was so quiet that Stuart could hear the soft shuffle of his footsteps as he crossed the street and entered the greater darkness of the Twinning yard.
Setting down the small plastic bucket he was carrying, he pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves. When he touched the door handle a pulse of fear joined in with the hammering of his heart, and he steeled himself for what lay beyond. Retrieving the pail, he pushed open the door and slid through.
Closing it behind him, he risked switching on the tiny LED light he had purchased along with the other supplies. The icy blue beam shot out to capture Brad Twinning still straining at the end of his tether; his face swollen grotesquely and almost black now.
Taking a breath, Stuart tried to concentrate and remember what surfaces he may have touched the day before. Setting down the bucket once more, he removed a scrub pad and a plastic spray dispenser of alcohol-based cleanser, then approached the dead man.
I’ll start with the doorknob the cord is tied to, he thought. That’s where I went first. Then the bannister, the upstairs bedrooms, and lastly, the front door, both sides, on my way out. And don’t forget Twinning’s wrist, he reminded himself with a shudder of disgust.
Being careful to avoid the body, he slipped by it to kneel at the closet door. Spraying both the knob and some of the cord stretching away from it, he began wiping every wetted surface with gentle movements. As he rubbed at the wire he could feel the faint vibration of his efforts traveling along the cord to the corpse leashed to the other end. After several minutes of this, he stood to consider his work.
At that moment the doorknob surrendered to the strain.
With a metallic pop it launched outwards, striking Stuart in the knuckles, causing him to drop the flashlight even as it released Twinning’s bulk to topple over, crashing into his thighs and knocking him backwards with a cry. Slamming into the floor, Stuart felt his breath rush out, even as he struggled to free himself from the dead man. From somewhere near, Stuart thought he heard voices, and for one mad moment was afraid that the rest of Twinning’s family was rising to come to his aid.
“Let me go,” Stuart managed at last, trying to kick free. “Let me go, goddamn you!”
Then he was loose and scrambling to his feet. Snatching up his flashlight, he shone it down on the bloating corpse, his breath coming in gasps. Twinning lay face down, his ballooning arms at his sides.
Thinking hard, the last effects of his earlier drinking shocked from his system, Stuart dragged the body back to the closet. Fearful that Twinning’s altered position might lead investigators to think he had been a victim and not the perpetrator of his family’s slaughter, Stuart set to work restoring the scene as best he could.
Threading the wire through the hole where the doorknob had once been, he tugged hard to pull Brad back up to a kneeling position and tie him off. Concentrating on this gruesome task, his heaving lungs and pounding heart filled his ears.