Blood Test

“She called me as soon as she got to L.A. Wanted me to help her get a job as a prize girl on one of the game shows, but I told her you needed heavy connections for that. Besides, I’d already lined up the gig with Adam and Eve. Got Rambo to let us work as partners. The skits went smooth as silk. We didn’t need any rehearsal because each of us knew what the other was thinking. It was like working with yourself. We got big tips and I gave them to her to keep.

“Then one night she phoned me in a panic. Said she’d confronted them and they’d snatched the little guy out. I’d never liked the idea of him being in that hospital in the first place but I was afraid they were gonna disappear south of the border, take him where she’d never see him again.

“I rushed over and got there just as they were leaving. Swope was coming out the door when I opened it. I’d never met him, but I knew damn well what kind of shit he was. He started mouthing off and I hit him in the face. Knocked him out. The woman came at me then, screaming, and I hit her, too, along the side of the head.

“Both of them were lying there, grokked. The little guy was kind of dazed, mumbling in his sleep. Nona got pissed all of a sudden and started to tear up the room. I calmed her down, told her to wait right there, and managed to load both of them in the ’Vette. Stuffed her in the back, put him in the front seat. Drove ’em to the beach at Playa Del Rey and when one of the planes passed overhead, finished ’em off. Then I hauled them to a place I knew in Benedict and dumped them. They deserved to die.”

He twirled the axe handle like a baton, chewed on a strawlike mustache hair.

“The police found the remains of another body up there,” I said. “A woman.” I let the question hang in the air.

He grinned.

“I know what you’re thinking, but no. I would have liked to put mom there but she had the bad manners to have a stroke and die in bed a couple of years ago. It pissed me off, because I’d been planning it for years — there’s a plot reserved for the old man that I’ll fill one day. But she escaped. Then I got lucky. I was doing a late gig at Lancelot’s and this old broad in the front row was really coming on to me. Stuffing ten dollar bills down my jock, licking my ankles. Turns out she was a doctor. Radiologist. Divorced a couple of months and out for a wild night. She came to my dressing room, sloshed to the gills, started pawing me, sending out real strong signals. It turned me off and I was gonna kick her out. But when I turned on the lights I saw it: she could have been the old bitch’s twin sister. Same dried-up face, upturned nose, rich bitch manner.

“I smiled, said Come on in, honey. Let her do me, right there in the dressing room. The door was unlocked, anyone could have come in. She didn’t care, just hiked up her skirt and got on top. Later we went to her place, condo penthouse in the Marina. Made it again and then I strangled her in her sleep.” His eyes widened innocently. “The burial plot had been chosen. Someone had to fill it.”

He leaned the axe against the oven, reached into one of the shopping bags with his free hand and brought out a large peach.

“Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“They’re good. Good for you, too. Calcium, potassium. Lots of A and C. Make a great last meal.”

I shook my head.

“Suit yourself.” He took a large bite out of the fruit, licked the juice from the ends of his mustache.

“I’m no threat to you,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “I just want to help your little brother.”

“How? By pumping him full of poisons? I read all about the stuff they wanted to use on him. That shit causes cancer.”

“I’m not going to lie and tell you the drugs they use are harmless. They’re strong — poisons just like you said. But that’s what it takes to kill the tumors.”

“Sounds like a load of shit to me.” His jaw tightened and the beard bristled. “She told me all about the doctors there. Who’s to say you’re any different?”

He finished the peach and threw the pit in the sink. Took out a plum and dispatched it, too.

“Come on,” he said, picking up the axe. “Stand up. Let’s get it over with. I wish for your sake that I’d gotten you the first time, with the shotgun. You wouldn’t even have known what hit you. Now you’re gonna have to suffer a bit, waiting for it to happen.”

25

I walked to the door, the tip of the rifle nudging the small of my back.

“Open it slowly and carefully,” instructed Carmichael. “Keep your hands on your head and look straight ahead.”

I obeyed him shakily and heard the rustling of the shower curtain, the sound of Nona’s voice.

“You don’t need to hurt him, Doug.”

“Go back in. Let me handle this.”

“But what if he’s right? Woody’s burning up—”

“I said I’ll handle it!” the blond man snapped, with sudden loss of patience.

Her unseen response caused him to soften his voice.