The patrol car slipped into the next lane and sped past. Neither of the policemen in the car glanced at them. In seconds, the flashing lights and the noise were five cars away, and Dart applauded himself with yips and hoots.
'Did I call it, or what?' He held the barrel of the pistol up to his mouth. 'I want to thank the members of the Academy, my mother and father, all my colleagues at the office, you guys know who you are, Leo, Bert, Henry, Manny, I couldn't have done it without your support, and I must not. fail to mention those lovely ladies, my special clients, Martha, Joan, Leslie, Agatha - love those eyes, Agatha! - dear JoAnne, who never fails to order the best Margaux on the Chateau's wine list, Marjorie, Phyllis, sparkly little Edna of the pudgy ankles, and last but not least, the enchantress Olivia, who makes liver spots look like beauty marks. I wish to thank the Creator for the gifts He has lavished upon this unworthy being, and the Westerholm police force for all their assistance. But above all, I wish to thank my good-luck charm, my rabbit's foot, my four-leaf clover, my shining star, my hostage and partner in crime, the delectable Mrs Nora Chancel. Couldn't have done it without you, babe, you make the magic, you are the wind beneath my wings.' He blew her a kiss with the revolver.
'You're even crazier than I thought you were,' Nora said.
'Most people can never be their real selves, they could never let themselves do what you did to Natalie Weil. The difference between you and me is that when you call someone crazy you think it's an insult, and I understand that it's a compliment.'
'I don't think I have a real self anymore,' Nora said.
'I'll show you your real self,' Dart told her. 'Remember, you make the magic.'
Nora groaned, but only inwardly, with her real self, and Dick Dart smiled his mockery of a human smile as he drifted onto the off ramp for the Fairfield exit.
Dart steered through a series of narrow streets lined with two-story houses on small lots sprouting lawn furniture, plastic pools, and brightly colored children's toys. A dancing gleam kindled in his eyes. 'Dear Nora, to me has fallen the serious responsibility of freeing you from your illusions.' He rolled up to a stop sign and turned right onto nearly empty Main Street toward Fairfield's small business district.
'You'll see what I see, see through my eyes. I sense - I sense…' He turned into an angled parking spot in front of the hardware store and leaned toward Nora, his right hand three or four inches from her face, thumb and index finger nearly touching. 'You're
His odor coated her like a mist. Dart lowered his hand and leaned back, eyes gleaming and mouth compressed. Nora tried not to show the nausea she felt.
'I'm going into the hardware store,' he said. An incandescent sliver of hope sparked into life within her.
'You're coming with me, Nora. Any appeal for help, any attempt to get away from me, will be dealt with very seriously.' He was still gleaming, as if saying these words in this way amused him enormously, 'I have to make some purchases, and as yet I cannot leave you alone in the car. This is a test, and if you fail it you'll certainly never have to face another one.'
'You could leave me in the car,' Nora said. 'I won't go anywhere. How could I? I'm one of the two most wanted people on earth.'
'Bad girl.' Dart patted her lightly on the knee. 'There will come a time when you are allowed various freedoms, but we have to know you will not abuse them.'
He got out and walked around the front of the car to open her door. She said, 'Aren't you afraid of being recognized?'
'I've been in this store maybe once. Besides, nobody has a good photograph of me.' He leaned down smiling and whispered, 'And should some unfortunate happen to recognize me, I have Officer LeDonne's mighty thirty- eight.'
Dart wrapped a hand around her elbow and propelled her into the hardware shop.
The dim, cool interior instantly reminded Nora of the hardware stores of her childhood. At the far end a man in shirtsleeves stood between a wooden counter and a wall covered with battery displays, coiled hoses, ranks of scissors, rolls of tape, and a hundred other things. On the soft wooden floor between the counter and the front door stood rows of shelves and bins, each as chaotic as the rear wall. Matt Curlew had drifted entranced through such places. Unlike Matt Curlew, Dick Dart moved quickly through the aisles, snatching up ropes, two differently sized screwdrivers, a roll of duct tape, pliers, a hammer. He had released Nora's elbow as soon as they entered the store, and she trailed after him, noting his purchases with increasing alarm.
'You could set all that on the counter and let me begin totaling it up,' said the clerk. When he glanced at Nora, whatever he saw in her eyes caused him to step back from the counter.
'Great idea,' said Dart, and moved to the counter. 'Need some items from your knife case. Open it for me?'
'Sure thing.' The owner glanced again at Nora but now apparently saw nothing to alarm him. Pulling a fat key ring from his pocket, he led Dart toward the glass case. He unlocked the metal ratchet at the front of the case, slid back one of the panels, and said, 'Anything in particular?'
'Just a good knife or two.'
'We're no fancy knife shop, but I got some good German stag handles, that kind of thing.'
'I like a nice knife,' Dart said.
The man stepped back, and Dart slid the panel farther along and reached in to pick up a brutal-looking, foot- long knife with a curved blade and a thick black handle.
'You got one serious knife there,' said the owner.
Dart scuttled along the case to select an eight-inch knife which folded into a handle carved from an antler.
'That's the one I told you about, that one there's a real collectible.'
'Pop for one more,' Dart stood up to inspect the smaller knives at the top of the case. Humming to himself, he danced his fingers over the glass without actually touching it. After a few bars, Nora recognized the song he was humming, 'Someone to Watch Over Me.' 'Here we go.' He bent down to remove a short, double-edged knife with a utilitarian black handle. 'Got a sheath for this?'
'A belt sheath? Yep.'
The owner placed the knives and a black leather case beside the other purchases, looked up the tax on a chart, and added the column of numbers. 'Well, sir, that comes to two hundred twenty-eight, eighty-nine. Cash or charge?'
'Hey, I'm an old-fashioned American, cash on the barrelhead.' Dart took the bulging wallet from his jacket pocket and put two hundred and forty dollars on the counter.
The owner grunted and began bagging the items on the counter.
'Separate bags for the knives,' Dart said.
'Didn't do too badly, Nora baby.' Dart was driving up a side street toward the Fairfield railroad station, the smallest of the knives concealed under his jacket in the leather sheath, which he had clipped to his belt. The other two knives were in a bag on the backseat, the rest of the purchases in the trunk. 'You gave that old dodo one hell of a look, though. Have to watch out for that, have to control yourself.'
'I did control myself,' Nora said. 'What are you doing? I don't suppose we're going to take the train.'
'Daddy is looking for something, and, wonder of wonders, I believe he has just found it. You're a flicking rabbit's foot.' He slid past a dark a blue sports car with tinted windows and swerved into the curb next to an empty lot. 'Get out of the car and stand next to me.'
She joined him at the back of the Lincoln. While Dart leaned into the trunk and removed a screwdriver from the bag, Nora glanced up and down the street, praying for the arrival of a police car. Before them, on the other side of a long, narrow parking lot, lay the railroad station; back toward Main Street, beyond the empty lot, stood the flowered walkway and green-striped canopy of a restaurant called Euphemia's Diner.
Dart closed the trunk without latching it. 'Stand between me and the street. Don't let anybody see what I'm doing.' He grinned at her, and with his right hand reached around to the small of his back.
'What are you going to do?'
'Buy a little time.' He led her toward the rear of the little blue car. 'You're not going to take a stupid pill, are you?'
'No,' she said. A small, bright blade projected from his palm.
He knelt beside the rear bumper and jabbed the blade into the tire. The blade: slipped out, and the tire
