lying on its side on the counter or that the contents had pooled on the terrazzo floor until his feet went out from under him. Trey's last thought was probably that Watcher was grabbing him to keep him from falling, not in order to guide the back of his head into the sharp edge of the granite countertop as he fell.
After Watcher checked for Trey Dibble's pulse, and didn't find one, he looked at the pad by the telephone. He pressed Dibble's prints onto it, and placed Bert's business card under it so it was barely covered and the cops would have to try not to see it there. There was just one more connection to Bert that Watcher had to handle.
Going back into the living room, Watcher placed his disposable cell phone between the cushions of the couch. It was the phone he'd used exclusively to talk to Bert Marmaduke over the past three weeks. On the way out of the kitchen, Watcher took the plastic bag containing the knife he'd used on old Bert from his pocket, and dropped just the knife into the garbage can, making a loud metallic noise when it hit the bottom.
Just as he was closing the door, he heard the front door open and close. He left, and was opening the stairwell door when he heard Tami Waterman's scream.
FORTY-FIVE
According to the news reports, the virus was still creating havoc around the world, but other stories had started receiving more and more play so the virus in turn received less.
At a little past one, Ward walked past the kitchen where Natasha and Leslie Wilde were sitting across from each other at the counter, talking and laughing like schoolgirls.
Leslie had come to the McCartys’ house to drop off the bags of groceries she'd purchased from the list Natasha had given her earlier that morning. She sat on a stool at the counter while Natasha put them away. She had also brought them a laptop computer from the office, in case they wanted to check e-mails. The last thing Natasha wanted to do was open a computer and look at e-mails.
“God, I'll be so glad when this is all over. How's that for stating the obvious?” Natasha said. “I believe it's aged me ten years.”
“This will all be over soon,” Leslie told Natasha. “And you look marvelous. It will all work out, you'll see.”
“I hope so.” Natasha lowered her voice. “So, Todd Hartman is quite a guy.”
“And attractive, smart, and handsome,” Leslie said, smiling.
“And a professional,” Natasha said. “That's important.”
“Yes, he's employed,” Leslie said. “And did I mention handsome?”
“I think you might have.”
Natasha's dealings with Leslie had always been pleasant, though superficial. She had spoken to her on the phone untold times, but until this mess started she had never spent more than a few minutes talking to her face- to- face. They had never been socially connected, and Natasha intended to change that. Of all of their so- called friends, none had sent messages of support. Of course, due to a lack of computers to retrieve e-mails, the fact that the phones were off, and the guards at the driveway, there wasn't an easy way for their friends to get in touch.
Leslie said, “Ward seems much more relaxed today.”
Natasha looked at Leslie. “Ward is finally putting things into perspective. He's decided that life has to go on. I think if there's one good thing that has come from this virus mess it's that this helped us both see that we still have each other.”
“I should go back to the office. If you need anything, call me.”
“I will, and thank you, Leslie.”
Natasha walked her out to her car, and waved until she was out of sight.
FORTY-SIX
The gun Earl Tucker twirled clumsily was a. 380 semiautomatic Walther PPK.
Alice held out her hand. “Let me try it,” she said, beckoning.
Earl held the gun out butt first, but when she reached for it, he flipped it in his hand and aimed the barrel at her.
“That's an old Western trick that Marshal William Earp was famous for.”
“You mean Wyatt Earp.”
“S’wat I said.”
“You said William Earp.”
She grabbed the gun from Earl and turned it over in her hands.
“You think I don't know Wyatt Earp? Was a tongue slip, is all that was. Know ah'm sayin’?”
“Only a retard would think it was William.”
Earl put his face close to Alice's ear. “How would you like to be porked by a real cowboy?”
She pushed him back onto her bed and aimed the gun at a picture on her wall. “A real cowboy wouldn't give his gun to a girl.”
He sat up and held out his hand. “So, give it back.”
“Let me hold it,” she said.
“You don't even know how to use it.”
“Show me.”
“Nah.”
“You don't know how to shoot it, do you?”
Earl frowned. “What chu talkin’?”
“How does it work, then?”
Earl took the gun and, reaching into his pocket, he took out a loaded magazine. “You push this clip up inna handle, pull back the doohickey and let go, an’ she's ready for action. Know ah'm sayin’?”
“I get it.” She looked at the empty handle and reached out for the loaded magazine. “Okay. Let me load it.”
“Naw, it's too dangerous. Girls don know shit about guns.”
“If you ever want me to milk big Earl again,” she said, waving her fingers and smiling seductively.
“ Ah- ite,” he said, handing her the magazine.
She inserted the magazine and aimed the gun at the picture again, whereupon the magazine fell to the carpet.
“You have to puts it all the way in,” Earl whined, handing it back. “Listen for it to click. And grab the top and pull that part back so it sticks the bullet in the barrel. And then you just pull the trigger, see ah'm sayin’?”
Alice followed Earl's instructions, pointed the gun at the large jar filled with pennies sitting atop her dresser and pulled the trigger. The jar seemed to evaporate and a spray of hundreds of copper coins filled the air, then landed and bounced on the hardwood floor. Alice's ears rang and she looked at the smoking gun as though finding it in her hand was a complete and baffling surprise.
“ Oh- my- god,” she said, grinning widely.
When Earl didn't answer, Alice looked back at him and noticed a stream of blood running down from his forehead, down his nose, and dripping onto the front of his extra- extra- large white T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of a sneering 5 °Cent.
“Earl!” she screamed. “Oh, shit!”
He turned his eyes to her.
“You're bleeding!”
Earl put his hand to the tip of his nose, looked at the blood on his fingers, and, with the unyielding stiffness of a falling tree, hit the wood floor so hard his head bounced.
