I watched her from behind, through a
crack in the door. It was just dawning on her that the body on the
floor wasn't pregnant. The ascending curve of the woman's hip was too
steep.
It's funny how you can watch things hit
people, even without having to see their face. Something about the
pace of the killer's breathing, some change in the ion field around
her. The gun, hanging loosely now from her left hand's fingers,
twitched almost imperceptibly. Then she took a couple of steps
forward and rotated, keeping her eyes on the body.
Seeing her for the first time was a
shock. Of course I knew she was attractive -- Mike would never have
fucked her if she wasn't -- but I hadn't been prepared for the
vicious expression. She worked her teeth together for a few seconds,
then began to swear, quietly and with deep conviction.
I leveled my .38 and stepped out of the
bedroom.
It took her a second to notice me. When
she did, nothing moved but her eyes. We stared at each other for a
few seconds, then her gaze dropped to my belly.
"This is going to cost me work,"
she said. Her voice was low and soft and younger than her face.
"Maybe it's time for a career
change."
Her fingers twitched on her automatic.
"Just open your hand and let that
drop," I said. "If you move more than an inch, it'll turn
out bad."
She didn't hesitate, but as if to test
me, she lifted her chin while the gun fell, giving me her face
full-on.
"Back up," I said.
She did it. When she was against the
wall, out of arm's reach, I stepped over and picked up her automatic.
It was tricky keeping my gun and eyes on her while I bent down. I was
only six months along, but my balance was already off.
"So what'd he tell you? That I
didn't care?"
Her eyes flickered at my belly again, but she
didn't say anything. I looked down at my dead sister, and the tears
started. Coming up hot and fierce, choking me and blurring the room. The woman against the wall didn't take
advantage. She stayed where she was.
"He didn't tell me anything,"
she said, her husky voice soft. "I was the one who didn't care.
Not at first."
I risked a quick swipe across my face
with my sleeve. She was looking at me with a quiet pity.
"What do you mean?"
"This is personal," she said.
"Jesus Christ, don't tell me you
fell in love with him."
Her eyes glinted and now I could see
the pain in them. They were a curious kind of gray-blue, the kind
that don't hide things well. Probably a liability in her profession.
"You should wear sunglasses,"
I said.
She laughed, painfully, rubbing one
latex-gloved hand against her thigh. It dawned on me then.
"You were going to fix him for
this?"
"It's his gun," she said,
sounding almost helpless.
I started to explain why it would never
have worked, but then stopped. "You'd testify that he told you
he was going to kill me?"
"Something like that."
I almost laughed, it was so perfect. The problem I could never solve was that no jury would ever buy him killing the mistress. But the pregnant wife who stood in the way? That was classic. And
Diane, so like me we could have been twins except for the baby, would
have faked out anybody.
I glanced down at her again. There were
two bullets; one in the back of her left shoulder, and the second --
the killer -- just at the base of her skull.
"He didn't know she was here,"
I said, half to myself. "She was facing away. It was a mistake.
A horrible accident."
The woman across the room stared hard
at me for a few long seconds. I stared back.
"He might get life," I said.
"Locked up somewhere."
It took her a second, and then she
coughed up a dry chuckle. "He'd probably end up fucking one of
the guards."
"I dunno, it doesn't bother me the
same way," I shrugged. "Call me crazy, but we'd be doing
the world a favor."
"The women in it, anyway,"
she replied, looking at Diane.
We stood there with it for a long time.
I could hear water dripping somewhere back in the house. The baby
kicked. Finally she looked up at me.
"I'm in."
