‘‘Let us stay together,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You can see we’re a pretty pathetic pair, and he needs care.’’
‘‘Don’t try to poor-mouth yourselves. I know what you are capable of,’’ she said. ‘‘Open the door.’’
Kingsley opened the door. The room had a huge four-poster bed, plush maroon carpets with a maroon and gold brocade bed set and matching curtains. It was a little too ornate for Diane’s taste, but it was better than the building out back.
‘‘Nice prison,’’ said Kingsley. He walked in and Iris locked the door behind him with the key she held in her hand.
‘‘You will be down here,’’ she said to Diane.
Diane started down the hallway, trying to formulate a plan. Kingsley was out of the way and it was just the two of them. Iris was strong, but so was she.
‘‘Don’t try anything,’’ said Iris. ‘‘I won’t mind shooting you. I can read your mind even from behind.’’
‘‘I wouldn’t dream of trying anything,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You have a logical mind about you. I was hoping you would see that killing law enforcement officers puts you in a whole different ball game from the men you killed.’’
‘‘I’m aware of that. Hardly seems fair to the rest of the population, does it?’’ she said.
‘‘Iris, look,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Kingsley tells me that most people who are tagged as serial killers escalate in violence against their victims. You didn’t. He says you are different. You are not one of these people...’’
‘‘Are you trying to save me? How do you know I’m not escalating?’’
‘‘Because neither Bacon, Redding, Carthwright, or O’Riley was killed as violently as that GreeneHeinrich person,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Their deaths were terrible enough, and maybe Bacon’s was as violent, but the others weren’t.’’
Diane watched Iris carefully as she spoke. Iris was clearly shocked.
‘‘You know about all of those?’’ she whispered.
‘‘There may be more, but those are all we’ve found so far,’’ said Diane.
‘‘How?’’ she said hoarsely. ‘‘How could you know about Simon Greene? He’s the man my father sold me to. No one knows about him.’’
‘‘You aren’t the only one Greene abused,’’ said Diane. ‘‘He’s notorious.’’
Iris was quiet. Diane was hoping she would let her guard down so that Diane could... do something... what? Outrun a bullet? The Beretta would make a much worse wound than Joey’s little gun. Iris’ gun hand never wavered.
‘‘Open the door,’’ she said. It sounded more like a request than an order. Diane complied. This room was completely different from the last one. It was done in black and shades of browns and tans. No ruffles, brocades, or tassels, just sleek, tailored designs. Diane didn’t like it either.
‘‘We’ve been very frank with each other,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Will you answer two questions for me?’’
‘‘Perhaps,’’ she said. ‘‘If it won’t take long. I have an escape to execute.’’
‘‘Did you have those stolen artifacts sent to the museum to get even with Vanessa Van Ross?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I didn’t have anything to do with your museum problem. I was getting even with Vanessa Van Ross by targeting you. You mean more to her than the museum, according to my analysis, though I failed to uncover why.’’
‘‘So all that blood and my being accused of killing you was to get even with her?’’ said Diane.
‘‘No, that was to fake my death and poke you in the eye while doing it. I called Eric Tully on the phone pretending to be you and told him to send me fifteen thousand dollars or I would turn him in.’’
Diane frowned. ‘‘That explains a lot. He only sent four thousand and tried to kill me twice.’’
‘‘I suppose he was low on cash,’’ said Iris.
‘‘What about Grace Noel and Tully’s daughter? Were you just trying to con me?’’ said Diane.
‘‘No. I figured that whether Tully killed you or not, he would get arrested and Grace would see him for what he was. The kid would go to her to raise—or to another relative if they could find one. Grace isn’t the brightest, but she would be good to the little girl,’’ said Iris. ‘‘Now, if I’ve told you everything you want to know. Get in the damn room.’’
Diane walked in and Iris started to close the door. She hesitated and turned back to Diane.
‘‘Rich men are all the same. You may not believe that, but I know it. They are no different from my father. Power doesn’t corrupt so much as money does. Vanessa thinks her friend Archer was so good. We were walking on the beach in Malibu when these young girls passed by in their string bikinis. They weren’t much more than fifteen or sixteen. He said, ‘My, aren’t those nubile young things?’ That was my father’s favorite word,
She slammed the door. Diane heard the key turn in the lock. She stood a moment and listened to Iris’ footfalls go down the hall. The first thing she did was start searching the room. The drawers were filled with linens, sheets, holiday tablecloths, and napkins— nothing hard that she could use as a weapon. Maybe she could tie the sheets together and climb down to the ground. She went to the window and threw open the curtain. The window was nailed shut and boarded up on the outside.
Diane looked at the curtain rod. Now, there was a possibility. She climbed up on top of the vanity and took the heavy metal rod off the brackets, slid the rod apart, and slid the curtains off. Now she had two weapons. It was sort of like a lance. The finials made fairly good points. Probably wouldn’t puncture the skin, but she could certainly knock the wind out of someone with it—hit them right in the solar plexus and they wouldn’t get up for a while.
