Razzamatazz

'Annie,' she said seriously, 'it's Colin.'

She felt her knees give way and grabbed hold of Peg's arm. There was no way she could go through another death; it would finish her.

'Are you okay?'

She went into her office, unable to ask Peg to tell her what she meant.

'Annie,' Peg called after her, 'did you hear me?'

She didn't answer, just sat on the couch, waiting.

Peg said, 'What is it? You look terrible. Oh, God, I'm sorry. He's not dead, if that's what you're thinking.'

Annie closed her eyes, let her head fall back against the couch. 'What then?' she was able to ask.

'He's disappeared. You do know about Babe Parkinson, don't you?'

'No.'

Peg sat down next to her, gently put her hand on Annie's arm. 'She's been murdered-one of those swastikas was carved in her chest. And Colin's run away. I can't believe no one's called you.'

'I had a meeting about the summer carnival at nine which lasted two hours. I didn't take any calls, then I went over to the church. 'What do you mean, Colin's run away?'

'I don't know all the details and I got what I have third hand, but it seems Mark Griffing tried to get Colin to turn himself in and Colin attacked him, locked him in the basement of the Gazette building. Then he just disappeared. He didn't have his car so he couldn't have gotten very far. You don't know where he is, do you, Annie?'

'No. When was Babe Parkinson murdered?'

'Some time late last night, from what I've gathered.'

Annie said, 'Colin didn't kill her.'

Peg shook her head. 'You don't know that, Annie. You just don't know.'

'I do. she said obstinately.

'Look, I know how you feel. If somebody accused Tim of killing some-'

'Peg, listen to me,' she snapped.

'Okay, okay.'

'Colin couldn't have killed Babe. He was with me.'

'All night?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

'Who should I call?'

'What do you mean?'

'Peg, I have to help Colin. If the police think he killed Babe, they have to be told he couldn't have.'

'You can't, Annie.'

'Oh, yes I can.' She picked up the phone.

Peg depressed the button cutting off the open line. 'You just can't. Think.' She took the receiver from Annie and replaced it.

'I am thinking.'

'Look, just because you spent one night with the man doesn't mean you throw your whole career down the drain. Don't you know what's going to happen when this gets out?'

'I have a pretty fair idea. But it doesn't matter. Colin's life might be at stake.'

'And so might yours,' Peg pointed out.

'That's absurd.'

'Is it?'

'You don't know him!' Annie exclaimed.

'And you do?'

'Yes. Yes, I do. He's gentle and sensitive and-he couldn't kill anyone.'

'Don't you think it's a bit of a coincidence that this gentle, sensitive man has been involved in murder before coming to Seaville?' Peg asked.

'Exactly. That's exactly what it is, a coincidence.' She made a move toward the phone.

Peg blocked her. 'Annie, please. This is just the kind of thing Steve Cornwell is waiting for.'

'I can't help that, Peg. Colin's life is more important than my career in Seaville.'

'It won't just be Seaville,' Peg assured her.

'I'll have to take that chance.'

'Can't you at least wait, see what happens?'

Annie searched Peg's eyes. 'You mean wait and see if he's killed, don't you?'

'No. I… I didn’t' mean that,' Peg said lamely.

She reached for the phone again. 'Excuse me.'

Peg removed her hand and Annie lifted the receiver. When the call was answered Annie asked for Schufeldt and was told he wasn't in. She left her name and asked that he return her call, saying it was important. Then she tried Mark at the paper. He wasn't in. She left a message that it was urgent he reach her. Next she called Sarah at home, but there was no answer there. The only thing she could do now was wait.

– -

The cramp in Colin's right leg was excruciating. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. The other hand he used to squeeze the muscle in his calf, hoping to stop the pain. It didn't work. He tried to distract himself by naming all the teachers he'd had in grammar school. He wondered if you remembered their names all your life. The muscle was still cramping. He needed to put pressure on the leg, stand on it, but the doghouse was too low. There had to be an alternative. There was. He lay down in the dirt, put his foot against one wall and pushed. Because he couldn't straighten out his leg, it took longer, hurt more. But finally the pain subsided, then vanished.

He remained on his back, legs bent, eyes studying the peaked ceiling. The number of spider webs seemed to have increased since the last time he counted. Maybe he was hallucinating.

It was almost eight-five. He'd been in the doghouse for over thirteen hours. He laughed. If anyone had ever been in the doghouse it was him. The sun should set in approximately eight to ten minutes. Then it would be another fifteen before it was totally dark and he could get the hell out of here.

His belly growled. He'd had nothing to eat since the eggs the night before. Perversely, he thought of all the foods he loved: pasta, french fries, artichokes, steak, potato chips, mocha cake, pizza. When he finished he was hungrier than he'd been. The worst part was his thirst. Coffee that morning was the last liquid he'd had. But maybe that was good. At least his bladder wasn't bursting. Still, his lips were dry and flaky, and his throat felt as if it were coated with sand.

Sitting up, he went back to thoughts of Mark. Motive was the biggest stumbling block. And the fact that Mark seemed so normal.

But hadn't Ted Bundy fooled people? There was plenty of documentation supporting the so-called 'normal' killer. It was just hard to believe someone you thought you knew so well could fool you so completely. Colin suspected his reluctance to see the truth about Mark was due to pride, his need to be right.

Even so, Babe's murder was the giveaway. It was as though Mark had signed his name to that one. But to everyone else the signature would be Colin's. Mark must have planned it all from the very beginning. It was the reason he'd asked Colin to work on the paper. The only reason. Still, what about motive? And then he faced the truth: Insane people didn't need a logical motive.

He pulled his sticky shirt away from his chest. It was as if he'd gone into a shower completely dressed. Earlier he'd contemplated stripping to his shorts, but was afraid he might need to make a sudden run.

Looking out the doghouse doorway he could see darkness descending. His windbreaker hung on a protruding nail. He reached for it and wrestled his arms through the sleeves. The Kiske house remained dark but lights were on in the house to the right. There were still a few minutes to wait.

Most of the day he'd thought about Annie, recalling the night before until it became too painful. There was no doubt in his mind that he cared for her, maybe loved her. She was very different from Nancy, which was good and bad. He wouldn't have wanted anyone too much like her; that would have made him uneasy. Yet having an affair with a woman so different from his wife instilled in him a feeling of betrayal, the very thing Dr. Safier warned him