lhamilton.thekillingdance-第7部分

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　salivate　when　I　e　through　the　doors；　so　they　indulge　me。〃
　I　had　to　smile。　There　was　a　sharp　twang　as　the　ropes　broke。　〃I'll　help　Richard。〃　I　walked　back　to　the　trunk。　The　rope　was　an　inch　thick　and　flopped；　broken；　onto　the　pavement。　I　raised　eyebrows　at　him　and　whispered；　〃My；　my；　Grandma；　what　strong　hands　you　have。〃
　〃I　could　carry　the　television　up　alone；　but　it　might　arouse　suspicions。〃
　It　was　a　thirty…inch　wide　screen。　〃You　could　really　carry　it　up　the　stairs　by　yourself？〃
　〃Easily；〃　he　said。
　I　shook　my　head。　〃But　you're　not　going　to　because　you　are　a　mild…mannered　science　teacher；　not　an　alpha　werewolf。〃
　〃Which　is　why　you　get　to　help　me；〃　he　said。
　〃Are　you　having　trouble　undoing　the　rope？〃　Mrs。　Pringle　asked。　She'd　walked　back　to　us　with　Custard　in　tow。
　〃No；〃　I　said；　giving　Richard　a　look。　〃We've　got　the　rope。〃　If　people　found　out　Richard　was　a　lycanthrope；　he'd　lose　his　job。　It　was　illegal　to　discriminate；　but　it　happened　all　the　time。　Richard　taught　children。　He'd　be　branded　a　monster；　and　most　people　didn't　let　monsters　near　their　children。
　Mrs。　Pringle　and　Custard　led　the　way。　I　went　up　backwards；　sort　of　steadying　the　box；　but　Richard　took　all　the　weight。　He　walked　up　the　stairs　like　the　box　weighed　nothing；　pushing　with　his　legs；　waiting　for　me　to　go　up　another　step。　He　made　a　face　at　me；　soundlessly　humming　under　his　breath　as　if　he　was　bored。　Lycanthropes　are　stronger　than　your　run…of…the…mill　human　being。　I　knew　that；　but　it　was　still　a　little　unsettling　to　be　reminded。
　We　made　it　to　the　hallway；　and　he　let　me　have　some　of　the　weight。　The　thing　was　heavy；　but　I　held　on；　and　we　kept　moving　towards　Mrs。　Pringle's　apartment；　which　was　right　across　the　hall　from　mine。
　〃I've　got　the　door　opened；〃　she　called。
　We　were　at　the　door；　starting　to　maneuver　through；　when　Custard　darted　between　us；　underneath　the　box；　trailing　his　leash。　Mrs。　Pringle　was　trapped　behind　the　television。　〃Custard；　e　back　here。〃
　Richard　lifted　with　his　forearms；　taking　the　weight。　〃Get　him。　I　can　get　inside。〃
　I　let　him　pretend　to　struggle　inside　the　apartment　and　went　for　the　dog。　I　expected　to　have　to　chase　him　down　the　hall；　but　he　was　sniffing　at　my　door；　whining。　I　knelt　and　grabbed　the　end　of　his　leash；　pulling　him　back　towards　me。
　Mrs。　Pringle　was　at　her　door；　smiling。　〃I　see　you　caught　the　little　rascal。〃
　I　handed　her　the　leash。　〃I've　got　to　get　something　out　of　my　apartment。　I'm　sure　Richard　can　help　you　set　up　the　TV。〃
　〃Thanks　a　lot；〃　he　called　from　inside　the　apartment。
　Mrs。　Pringle　laughed。　〃I'll　give　you　both　some　iced　tea；　unless　you　have　better　things　to　do。〃　There　was　a　knowing　look　in　her　blue　eyes　that　made　me　blush。　She　winked　at　me；　I　kid　you　not。　When　the　door　was　safely　closed　with　her　and　Richard　on　the　other　side；　I　walked　toward　my　apartment。　Three　doors　down；　I　crossed　the　hallway。　I　took　the　Browning　out　and　clicked　the　safety　off。　I　eased　back　towards　my　door。　Maybe　I　was　being　paranoid。　Maybe　Custard　hadn't　smelled　anybody　in　my　apartment。　But　he'd　never　whined　at　my　door　like　that　before。　Maybe　Edward's　phone　call　was　making　me　jumpy。　But　better　jumpy　than　dead。　Paranoid　it　was。
　I　knelt　by　the　door　and　took　a　breath；　letting　it　out　slowly。　I　took　my　keys　out　of　my　jacket　pocket　left…handed。　I　scrunched　down　as　low　as　I　could　get　and　still　have　a　decent　shooting　stance。　If　there　was　a　bad　guy　in　there；　he'd　probably　shoot　at　chest　level。　On　my　knees　I　was　a　lot　shorter　than　chest　level。　I　pushed　the　key　in　the　lock。　Nothing　happened。　The　apartment　was　probably　empty；　except　for　my　fish　wondering　what　the　hell　I　was　doing。　I　turned　the　knob；　pushed　the　door　inward；　and　a　hole　exploded　out　through　the　door；　thundering　over　my　head　like　a　cannon　shot。　There　was　no　sound　for　a　second。　The　door　swung　closed　with　the　force　of　the　shot；　and　through　the　hole　in　the　door　I　saw　a　man　with　a　shotgun　raised　to　his　shoulder。　I　fired　once　through　the　hole。　The　door　bounced　open；　still　reverberating　from　the　shotgun　blast。　I　threw　myself　onto　one　side；　gun　pointed　through　the　open　door。
　The　shotgun　fired　again；　showering　the　hallway　with　bits　of　wood。　I　fired　twice　more；　hitting　the　man　in　the　chest　both　times。　He　staggered；　blood　blossoming　on　his　coat；　and　fell　straight　back。　The　shotgun　fell　to　the　carpet　near　his　feet。
　I　got　to　my　knees；　back　pressed　to　the　wall　near　my　kitchenette。　All　I　could　hear　was　a　roaring　in　my　ears；　then　dimly　my　own　blood　rushing　through　my　head。
　Richard　was　suddenly　there　in　the　doorway；　like　a　target。　〃Get　down！　He　may　not　be　alone！〃　I　wasn't　sure　how　loud　I　was　yelling。　My　ears　were　still　ringing。
　Richard　crouched　beside　me。　I　think　he　said　my　name；　but　I　didn't　have　time　for　it。　I　pushed　upward；　my　back　to　the　wall；　gun　in　a　two…handed　grip。　He　started　to　stand。　I　said；　〃Stay　down。〃　He　did。　Point　for　him。
　I　could　see　that　there　was　no　one　in　front　of　my　apartment。　Unless　there　was　somebody　hiding　in　the　bedroom；　the　hit　man　had　been　alone。　I　approached　him；　slowly；　gun　pointed　at　him。　If　he'd　twitched；　I'd　have　shot　again；　but　he　didn't　move。　The　shotgun　was　by　his　feet。　I'd　never　seen　anybody　use　a　gun　with　their　feet；　so　I　left　it　where　it　was。
　He　lay　on　his　back；　one　arm　thrown　up　over　his　head；　one　down　at　his　side。　His　face　was　slack　with　death；　his　eyes　wide　and　unseeing。　I　didn't　really　need　to　check　for　a　pulse；　but　I　did　it　anyway。　Nothing。　There　were　three　holes　in　his　chest。　I'd　hit　him　with　the　first　shot；　but　it　hadn't　been　a　killing　blow。　That　had　nearly　cost　me　my　life。
　Richard　came　up　behind　me。　〃There's　no　one　else　in　the　apartment；　Anita。〃
　I　didn't　argue　with　him。　I　didn't　ask　if　he　knew　this　by　smell　or　by　hearing。　I　didn't　bloody　care。　I　checked　the　bedroom　and　bathroom　just　to　be　thorough　and　came　back　out　to　find　Richard　staring　down　at　the　dead　man。
　〃Who　is　he？〃　Richard　asked。
　It　occurred　to　me　that　I　could　hear　again。　Bully　for　me。　I　still　had　a　faint　ringing　in　my　ears；　but　it　would　pass。　〃I　don't　know。〃
　Richard　looked　at　me。　〃Was　he　the　。　。　。　hitter？〃
　〃I　think　so。〃　There　was　a　hole　in　the　door　big　enough　to　crawl　through。　It　was　still　open。　Mrs。　Pringle's　door　was　closed；　but　the　doorjamb　was　splintered　like　something　had　taken　a　big　bite　out　of　it。　If　she'd　been　standing　there；　she'd　have　been　dead。
　I　heard　the　distant　wail　of　police　sirens。　Couldn't　blame　the　neighbors　for　calling　them。　〃I'm　going　to　make　some　phone　calls　before　the　cops　get　here。〃
　〃Then　what？〃　he　asked。
　I　looked　at　him。　He　was　pale；　the　whites　of　his　eyes　showing　just　a　little　too　much。　〃Then　we　go　with　the　nice　police　officers　down　to　the　station　to　answer　questions。〃
　〃It　was　self…defense。〃
　〃Yeah；　but　he's　still　dead　on　my　carpet。〃　I　walked　into　the　bedroom；　searching　for　the　phone。　I　was　having　a　little　trouble　remembering　where　I'd　left　it；　as　if　it　ever　moved　from　the　nightstand。　Shock　is　always　fun。
　Richard　leaned　in　the　doorway。　〃Who　are　you　going　to　call？〃
　〃Dolph；　and　maybe　Catherine。〃
　〃A　friendly　policeman　I　understand；　but　why　Catherine？〃
　〃She's　a　lawyer。〃
　〃Oh；〃　he　said。　He　glanced　back　at　the　dead　man；　who　was　bleeding　all　over　my　white　carpet。　〃Dating　you　is　never　boring；　I'll　give　you　that。〃
　〃And　it's　dangerous；〃　I　said；　〃Don't　forget　dangerous。〃　I　dialed　Dolph's　number　from　memory。
　〃I　never　forget　you're　dangerous；　Anita；〃　Richard　said。　He　stared　at　me　and　his　eyes　were　amber；　the　color　of　a　wolf's　eyes。　His　beast　slid　behind　those　eyes；　peering　out。　Probably　the　smell　of　fresh　blood。　I　stared　into　those　alien　eyes　and　knew　I　wasn't　the　only　dangerous　thing　in　the　room。　Of　course；　I　was　armed。　The　dead　man　could　vouch　for　that。　Laughter　tickled　the　back　of　my　throat。　I　tried　to　swallow　it；　but　it　spilled　out；　and　I　was　giggling　when　Dolph　answered　the　phone。　Laughing　was　better　than　crying；　I　guess。　Though　I'm　not　sure　Dolph　thought　so。
　
　
　4
　
　I　sat　in　a　straight…backed　chair　at　a　small；　scarred　table　in　an　interrogation　room。　Oh；　sorry；　interview　room。　That's　what　they　were　calling　it　now。　Call　it　what　you　will；　it　still　smelled　like　stale　sweat　and　old　cigarettes　with　an　overlay　of　disinfectant。　I　was　sipping　my　third　cup　of　coffee；　and　my　hands　were　still　cold。
　Detective　Sergeant　Rudolph　Storr　leaned　against　the　far　wall。　His　arms　were　crossed　over　his　chest；　and　he　was　trying　to　be　unobtrusive；　but　when　you're　six　foot　eight　and　built　like　a　pro　wrestler；　that's　hard。　He　hadn't　said　a　word　during　the　interview。　（Just　here　to　observe。）
　Catherine　sat　beside　me。　She'd　thrown　a　black　blazer　over　the　green　dress；　brought　her　briefcase；　and　sat　wearing　her　lawyer　face。
　Detective　Branswell　sat　across　from　us。　He　was　in　his　mid…thirties；　black　hair；　dark　plected；　with　eyes　as　black　as　his　hair。　His　name　was　English；　but　he　looked　Mediterranean；　like　he'd　just　stepped　off　the　olive　boat。　His　accent　was　pure　middle　Missouri。
　〃Now；　Ms。　Blake；　go　over　it　just　one　more　time　for　me。　Please。〃　He　poised　his　pen　over　his　notebook　as　if　he'd　write　it　all　down　again。
　〃We'd　helped　my　neighbor　carry　up　her　new　television。〃
　〃Mrs。　Edith　Pringle；　yeah；　she　confirms　all　that。　But　why　did　you　go　to　your　apartment？〃
　〃I　was　going　to　get　a　screwdriver　to　help　install