The Hellfire Club

The next four minutes were a blur of honking horns, startled faces, waving fists, and accidents averted only by the last-second recognition on the part of other drivers that, yes, the woman driving the Volvo wagon in the oncoming lane really did intend to keep moving. Several times, Nora's insistence on forward progress caused some minor fender damage to the vehicles of the drivers who had to accommodate the drivers who had to accommodate her. Finally, she crossed laterally over the right lanes in another outraged din and twirled onto the ramp to the northbound lanes of the expressway. What seemed to be four solid lanes of cars and trucks racing in the direction of Hartford and New Haven appeared before her. Nora closed her eyes and kept her foot down on the accelerator. When she opened them three long seconds later, she found herself about to smash into the rear end of a sixteen- wheeler with huge BACK OFF, DUMMY mud flaps. She backed off.

A state police car with a flashing light bar screamed toward them on the other side of the divider and flew past.

'You want to continue your criminal career, you could always get a job as a getaway driver. Now we want to move along a little less conspicuously before we turn into Cousin Lenny's.'

This was the restaurant where Davey had convinced himself of her innocence while eating meat loaf submerged under ketchup.

'Why there?'

'Every cop in the state - fuck, every cop in the Northeast - is looking for this Swedish piece of shit. Nora, sweetie, if you're going to be a getway artist, you have to learn how to think like one.'

I'm not your sweetie, she thought.

'Okay, tell me what you did to Natalie Weil.'

He was leaning against the passenger door, smirking.

'How do you know about her? You were in a cell for two days.'

'When I wasn't discussing my hobbies with nauseating Leo Morris, that dishonest squirrel-eyed fart, I spent a lot of time talking with

Westerholm's fine young officers. They told me about the other interesting matter taking place in the station. I heard that the station commander thought you kidnapped Ms Weil and the chief of detectives thought you were innocent.'

They told you that?' asked Nora, aghast.

'If I happened to be the murderer of several of Westerholm's most notable bitches, a matter I strenuously denied, though not to you, of course, if I happened to be the celebrity in question, I would undoubtedly be interested in learning that I had inspired a copycat. Not just any old copycat, no no, but the delightful Nora Chancel, wife to pretty but ineffectual Davey Chancel. Needless to say, I was honored. Leo Morris, on the other hand, did not take the news as happily as I did.'

'Leo Morris knew?'

'I told him. He was not delighted by the prospect of mounting your defense. In fact, he dislikes you, your husband, and the entire Chancel clan.'

'Leo Morris?'

'Let us not wander from the point. You did it, didn't you? You beat the crap out of that little asshole. You locked her up and did nasty stuff to her.'

Nora did not respond for a second, and then said, 'Yes. I beat the crap out of her, and then I dragged her into a filthy room and did nasty stuff to her.'

'What did she do to you?'

'She slept with my husband.'

'Were you going to kill her?' Dart had become less offhand.

'I could hardly let her go, could I?'

'What an event! My opposite number, my female self! It doesn't mean I won't kill you, but I'm thrilled.'

'Why break me out of jail if you're going to kill me?'

'If you're a good girl I might keep you around.'

'You could travel faster on your own.'

'What would you do if I let you go?'

'Get some money from a cash machine, I guess, and go to New York. Figure out a way to get in touch with Davey.'

'You wouldn't last a day. You'd be standing in a phone booth a block away from the cash machine, trying to sweet-talk nebbishy Davey Chancel into sending you your favorite Ann Taylor dress, and all of a sudden a hundred cops would be aiming guns at you. Listen, you have to learn to think in a whole new way. In the meantime, I can keep you out of trouble.'

'This is your idea of staying out of trouble?'

'This is my idea of staying out of prison,' he said. 'There's one other reason I want to keep you around for a while.'

The skin on the nape of her neck contracted. She glanced sideways to see him leaning against the door, his hands folded on one knee and his mouth in a twist of a smile. 'What would that be?'

'Unlike you, I have a plan. You have this quality - what to call it? - a sort of a peasant forthrightness, which I see opening necessary doors.'

'Which doors?'

He placed his index finger to his smiling lips.

'What's this plan ?'

'I suppose I can give you the broad outlines. We are going to go to Massachusetts and kill a couple of old farts. Here comes that disgusting restaurant. Turn into the lot'

Nora flicked the turn indicator and changed lanes. The huge sign, COUSIN BENNY'S FOOD GAS, floated toward them.

'Can I ask you another question?'

'Ask.'

'How did you know I wear Ann Taylor dresses?'

'Nora, my love, spend my entire life doing nothing but talking to women. I know everything.'

'Can I ask you another one?'

'As long as it isn't tedious.'

Nora turned onto the access road into Cousin Lenny's parking lot. 'Holly Fenn said one detail about those murders was never released to the press. What was it?'

'Ah, my little signature. I cut them open and took out most of their internal organs. Let me tell you, you learn a lot more doing that than you do from anatomy books. Okay, go over there to the far side, and we'll wait for the right donor to come along.'

Nora advanced down a row of parked cars to the far end of the lot. Concrete barriers stood before a line of green dumpsters. Behind the dumpsters a weedy field extended toward a distant windbreak of gaunt trees.

'Back in,' Dart said. 'We want to be able to see our prospective benefactors. Weigh their advantages and disadvantages.'

'You know how to do that thing with the wires?'

'If I knew how to hot-wire a car, we'd already be in a car on our way to Fairfield. But we're not, are we, dearest Nora? No no, no no. We desire the keys to our new vehicle, and therefore we must take them from the hands of the temporary owner. We prefer an elderly person who trembles at the prospect of violence.' He leaned forward, put his hands on the dash, and looked from side to side. His right hand held the revolver, index finger inside the trigger guard. 'The constables are bound to show up soon. We need our benefactor, and we need him now.'

'Don't kill anybody,' Nora said. 'Please.'

'Little Miss Failed Executioner. Excuse me.' He scanned the lot again. 'Hello, hello. What do we have here? A definite possibility.' A long black Lincoln driven by an elderly man with a round, bald head moved toward them through the sunlight. Beside the driver sat a young woman with shoulder-length dark hair. 'Daddy Warbucks and his trophy bimbo,' said Dart. 'Two-for-one sale.'

'Everybody in the restaurant would hear the shots.'