'You are looking at this from die wrong point of view. People have always been allowed to kill in self-defense, and my dear, this is exactly what we're doing.
We're trying to defend ourselves: Davenport has put us in tiiis position, and we really don't have much option. So what I'm saying, is this: I don't understand how you could kill for money, and not feel bad about it, and now you can feel bad about killing in self defense.'
'I think it's because I know these people, or, anyway, I know about them,'
Rinker said. 'They're not dirtbags who deserve it. They're just people who are in the way.'
'No, no, no, they're not in the way; they're simply essential to us. We could not kill them, but that would leave us exposed. I'll tell you what; if you want,
I'll do all the shooting…'
'Who actually does the shooting is hardly the point, if we both cooperate in setting up the killing.'
They weren't exactly arguing: they were exploring, Carmel thought. Rinker -
Clara – was feeling some qualms, while Carmel felt none at all. They were working together through the grey ethical areas of murder…
'This is the place – the brick house, with the white shutters,' Carmel said, pointing across the dashboard as diey rolled past the house. 'We've gotta decide now: I don't want you coming in unless, you know, at some level you believe^ that you know, that what we're doing is necessary. We're not doing it out of madness, we're doing it out of forced necessity.'
'I'm not objecting so much from any kind of definable, rational viewpoint; I'm saying that I feel a little different about this,' Rinker said. 'I even worry about the effect it will have on you…'
'Don't worry about that.' Carmel took the car to the curb, killed the engine.
'Are you in or out?'
'I'm in,' Rinker said.
Lucas arrived at Hennepin Medical Center to find Sherrill standing with a group of cops on the sidewalk by the emergency entrance. When she saw the Porsche,
Sherrill broke away from the group and walked into the headlights just as Lucas shut them off. 'He's dead,' she said, as Lucas got out of the car.
'Damnit. I was afraid this would happen some day,' Lucas said in a low voice.
'Butry was an asshole and not too bright. It's a bad combination.'
'Yeah, well, he was a cop.'
'Yeah. They got a line on the shooters?'
'They're gone. Desk clerk said there were three skateboarders, kids, outside the station who might've seen something, but they took off right after the shooting.
We're looking, but we ain't finding.'
'What about Carmel?'
'She's locked up in her building. I'll head back there as soon as I'm sure there's nothing I can do with this thing.'
'Probably no point,' Lucas said. 'It's so late now… What about Butry? Who's his next of kin?'
'Haven't found anybody yet,' Sherrill said. 'His folks are dead, no brothers or sisters, far as we know. Never married… hell, there might not be anybody'
'Must be somebody.'
'I hope so,' Sherrill said. 'If there turned out to be nobody… That'd be the worst thing I ever heard of.'
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carmel and Rinker stood on the porch steps, each of them holding a phone book, and leaned sideways to peer at the curtained windows. The windows were dark, and nothing was moving. Nobody home. As stupid as it was, it was something they hadn't counted on. Plan B was going down.
'She's gotta be around,' Carmel complained. 'I called her office today, and she picked up the phone.'
'She's probably off visiting her mother or something,' Rinker said. They were both a little deflated, and wandered back down the dark sidewalk toward the car, carrying the phone books.
'Visiting.' Carmel stopped in her tracks. 'Yeah, I bet she's visiting…
C'mon.'
'Where?' Rinker was puzzled.
'Up to Hale's place.'
'But I thought we were going to take Clark first. If we don't take her, there's no point in…'
'I think she's at Hale's place. I'll bet you a dollar.'
'Hale's?'
'Yeah. Hale's.' ? E**
At Hale's, Carmel cruised past, slowly. The back window, Hale's bedroom, showed just the faintest glow on the window shade. 'She's there. He's got this votive candle…'
'What an asshole,' Rinker said. 'I'm mean, you're talking about marrying him?
And he's still sleeping with his ex-girlfriend?'
'Sneaking,' Carmel said. 'Can't say he's not sexually active.'
Carmel continued around the block, and pulled to the curb fifty yards up the street from Allen's house, where they could see the back window. She punched up her car phone, and on the second ring, a light came on in the bedroom. A moment later, Hale Allen picked up.
'I think I can get out of here, darling,' Carmel cooed. 'I've got to stop at my apartment for a minute, then I'll be over.'
'Maybe I should come to your place…' Hale said.
'No, no, I'm already in the car. See you.' And she hung up.
Five minutes later, Louise Clark squirted out of the house like a wet watermelon seed. She jogged down the sidewalk and climbed into a silver Toyota Corolla.
'Really makes me angry,' Carmel said. 'Really, really…'
'I can't believe it,' Rinker said. 'It's like a complete emotional betrayal.
You're tough enough to take it, but other women? They could be totally emotionally crushed by something like this.'
In another ten minutes, they were back at Clark's house, walking up the sidewalk again, Carmel carrying the phone books. Clark had just gone inside, and the lights were coming on. Rinker caught Carmel's arm and whispered, 'Let me go first. If she sees you…'
At the door, Carmel stepped to the side and Rinker pulled open the storm door, propped it back with her foot, took a breath, dropped her gun hand to her side, and knocked urgently on the door with her other hand. They heard Clark walking toward the door, and a voice through the wood panel: 'Who is it?'
'Clara Rinker, from down the block,' Rinker said. 'I think you've got a little fire.'
'A fire?'
'A little fire, by the corner of your house, there's smoke…'
The door opened, tentatively; no chain. Rinker stiff-armed it, hard, and it banged open, past the startled, mouth-open face of Louise Clark. The gun was up and Rinker was inside, pushing her, followed by Carmel. Louise cried, 'Carmel, what are you doing? Carmel…'
Carmel said, 'You're fucking my boyfriend. That's gotta stop.' She caught the sleeve of Clark's blouse, and pulled her toward the back of the house. Rinker kept the gun in her eyes.
'Carmel, Carmel…'
'You're fucking my boyfriend,' Carmel said. They could see the bathroom down a short hall, a door open in the hall to one side. Carmel flipped a light: the bedroom. 'Lay down on the bed, and keep your mouth shut,' Carmel said. 'Just keep your mouth shut.'
'You're going to kill me,' Clark said, sinking on the mattress. 'You killed those other people.'
'Don't be ridiculous, we're just gonna talk to you about Hale,' Carmel said.
