“Then passing out bottles of schnapps to celebrate,” Harry said.
“It was not to celebrate but to relax the men. I underestimated how they would react. To my surprise many of them broke down. Some were deeply shaken. They needed relief.”
“You killed six hundred people,” Harry said, “you were worried about relaxing your men?”
“I was following orders,” Hess said.
“Whose orders were you following after the war?”
He didn’t answer.
“I saw your souvenir collection. You’re still at it, huh? Can’t stop yourself.”
“You think the world is going to miss a few more Jews?” Hess said. “Killing your daughter was a bonus, Harry. What can I say? I was just lucky.”
“I am‚ too,” Harry said, picking up the Colt.
Hess went for his gun, and Harry fired. Hit him in the upper chest, just left of center, the velocity blowing the Nazi backward off his feet, gun flying. Harry walked across the kitchen, stood over him, Hess looking up, eyes open. “Help me.”
“You’re not going to make it,” Harry said.
39
“We have to call the police,” Joyce said, staring at Hess on the kitchen floor, blood pooling under him.
“You want to be involved in the killing of a Nazi war criminal?” Harry said. “Bring all that attention to yourself? Have the nuts come out of the woodwork, looking for you?”
Joyce said, “We don’t have a choice. We are involved.”
Cordell at the kitchen table said, “Harry, what you sayin’?”
“Get rid of the body. Bury him.”
Joyce frowned. “You’re not serious?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Harry, somebody has to have heard the gunshots and called the police,” Joyce said.
“If the police were coming, they’d be here by now.”
“What about the door upstairs?” Joyce said. “And the bullet hole in the armoire? How’re we going to explain that?”
“You picked up one of those terracotta planters on the balcony,” Cordell said, “broke the glass by accident.”
Harry glanced at him. “That’s not bad.” He paused. “I wouldn’t worry about the bullet hole. Who’s going to notice it?”
“Got another one, Harry,” Cordell said. “What about the security dude?”
Harry’d found him dead in the bushes behind the south wall. “Somebody shot him. We didn’t hear it. We don’t know what happened. We don’t have to explain anything.”
“And Hess’ rental car,” Joyce said.
Harry’d found it parked on the neighbor’s property to the south. “We don’t know anything about that, either. Name on the rental agreement is Gerd Klaus.” It was also the name on his passport and international driver’s license. “You know someone named Gerd Klaus? I don’t. Nobody knows he’s really Hess except us. All the police have is a rental car. Without a body there’s nothing to connect us.” Harry had searched him and found a ring of keys and a room key to the Breakers Hotel.
Joyce said, “What if he told somebody what he was going to do, and they come after us?”
“Why would he?” Harry said. “If you were going to kill someone, would you talk about it? For Hess it was personal. He was taking care of the last connections to his past.” He looked at his watch. It was 4:53. “We don’t have a lot of time. Somebody is going to come looking for the security guard, and then the police are going to be involved.” He glanced at Cordell. “What do you say?”
“Otherwise you be lookin’ over your shoulder,” Cordell said, eyes on Joyce.
“I don’t like it, Harry,” Joyce said. “I feel like a criminal. But I agree with you. I wouldn’t bury him, though. The ground’s too soft. He could wash out during a heavy rain. I’d dump him in the ocean, let the tide take him out to the sharks.”
“What about this?” Cordell said, picking Hess’ gun up off the floor.
“I’ll get rid of it,” Harry said, taking the gun and sliding it in his pants pocket. He went outside, crossed the yard and went through the gate, walked to the far side of the property, took the gun out and threw it as far as he could into the Intercoastal.
Harry went to the garage looking for a tarp, and found a roll of Visqueen. He took it back to the house, wrapped Hess in plastic. He and Joyce dragged him outside and lowered him from the steps into a wheelbarrow. Harry’d take care of the Nazi. Joyce and Cordell would clean the kitchen floor.
Harry wheeled Hess down the narrow lane to the beach road, slight breeze blowing his hair back. Light was breaking on the horizon. He crossed the road and went down a slope of soft heavy sand, put the wheelbarrow down, kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants. The tide was on its way out.
He wheeled Hess across twenty yards of hard wet sand that had been underwater a few minutes earlier, and dumped him in the shallows. Harry glanced over his shoulder making sure no one was following them. When he looked back he saw Hess’ leg move, foot jerking under the plastic. What the hell was that? Harry’d checked him in the kitchen. Hess was dead, wasn’t breathing, didn’t have a pulse. But now Harry wondered, had his doubts. He bent down and pulled the Visqueen coffin into deeper water, up to his waist, gave it a push and watched the current take Hess out to sea, watched till the Nazi disappeared and he felt better.
Harry thought about what Hess did to his parents. It had been hanging there in the back of his mind for almost thirty years. Now finally, they’d been avenged. He thought about Sara, felt some relief knowing she, too could be put to rest.
He got back to the house a little after six. Joyce and Cordell had cleaned up the blood. The floor was spotless. Harry locked the kitchen door, went up, showered and got in bed.
At 6:30, Cloutier returned, patrolled the grounds, found his partner, and called the police. Harry was questioned by a cocky Palm Beach detective named Conlin. Harry told him he hadn’t heard a gunshot, hadn’t seen an intruder, and had never heard of a businessman from Stuttgart, Germany named Gerd Klaus. Joyce said pretty much the same thing, and although Harry was convinced Conlin didn’t believe them, they were released.
Cordell, on the other hand, had an outstanding warrant in Detroit. He was arrested and taken to county lock-up in West Palm for twenty-four hours, till Stark was able to appeal to a black judge sympathetic with Cordell’s situation. Young man in the army, serving his country, being discriminated against, and all charges were dropped.
“Appreciate the legal assistance,” Cordell said when he walked out of jail and got in Harry’s car. “Thank Counselor Stark for me. You were right, man knows his shit.”
Harry said, “What’re you going to do now, go back to Detroit?”
“Reinvent myself,” Cordell said. “Going to stay down here. Going to see what looks interesting, what I can get into, figure out how to make money at it.”
“Ever want to get in the scrap business, give me a call.”
Cordell shook his head and grinned. “That’s a tempting offer, Harry, but I think I’ll pass.”
40
While Cordell was being held, Harry’d driven to the Breakers, knowing it would take the police a little time to figure out where Hess had been staying. He had to make sure Hess didn’t have anything the police might find that would connect them.
