The Good Friday Murder Read online

  I stared at him without moving. I was to choose a twin for him to kill! Echoes of World War II reverberated in my head. This man wanted me to select who would live and who would die. He would make me his accomplice. And then what? Then he would kill me.

  A hundred things went through my mind. If we stayed here long enough, Jack would probably show up and even the odds. He might be calling me now for all I knew. With the phones disconnected, it would probably just sound like a ring to him and he would assume I had gone out. But it seemed that my best bet was to stay in the house as long as possible.

  “I can’t get the twins for you during daylight,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Since you tried to poison James on Saturday, they’ve been held indoors.”

  “I don’t intend to get them during daylight. I want to get you out of this house before your boyfriend arrives to spend the night.”

  He had been watching the house. I felt my options decreasing. If only I could leave a message for Jack; if only I could…It was hopeless. I turned toward the front door, a small, tenuous idea starting to percolate.

  “Not that way,” Spanner said. “Backdoor.”

  It wasn’t much, but I managed to walk outside leaving the back door unlocked. If Jack tried it—and why would he?—he would think it odd. But he might come in and see the broken window. It was a chance.

  “We’re taking your car.”

  I started down the driveway, wishing I could see a neighbor. But like the legendary elusive policeman, there weren’t any around when I needed them.

  I backed out of the drive, leaving the garage door open, something I ordinarily took care not to do, but who would know that? I wished there were some small thing I could drop—a wallet, a pen—but my bag was now on the floor of the car next to Spanner’s feet, and I had nothing available to toss.

  “I know the way, so don’t do anything stupid. Drive carefully. When we get there, I’ll tell you where to park.”

  To get to Greenwillow, you pass through several little towns, each with its own school system, police force, and volunteer fire fighters. There were cars on the road, and we even passed a police car, which I looked at longingly, but I was afraid to flick on the emergency flasher; Spanner would not miss that.

  Finally I started seeing signs to the hospital, and I put my signal on.

  “Drive right by the hospital and keep going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  Where we were going was the local hamburger place. Gerry Spanner was hungry and obviously thought he had a long night ahead of him. He should have been a cop, I thought, nearly smiling.

  We ordered food at the drive-through window and sat in the parking lot eating. I wasn’t very hungry, but I managed to drink something. Spanner ate as though he hadn’t eaten all day. I toyed with the idea of opening the car door and running, but he had that gun, and even while he ate, he kept it in his hand. I didn’t think I’d get very far.

  When we finished, he put the waste paper on the backseat and told me to drive to the hospital. We parked some distance away and walked. The hospital and the Greenwillow wing backed up on a section of woods beyond which was a fairly new development of attractive houses. I remember Aunt Meg telling me that the woods belonged to the town, so the home-owners could be sure of having privacy in perpetuity. It also gave Spanner and me a place to sit unseen and be fairly cool in the warm evening.

  It was a long wait. Most of the residents came outside after dinner, but I could see the lights on in the lounge, where several probably sat watching TV.

  “How do you plan to get inside?” I asked when we had been sitting for quite some time. “The doors are all kept locked.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “I don’t see what you need me for.”

  That was what puzzled me. He didn’t answer, and I kept thinking about it. He had used a Greenwillow resident to get the candy to the twins on Saturday, but he couldn’t try that again. The twins were being kept indoors, and he had to be able to monitor the messenger. (He couldn’t chance giving a poisoned candy bar to a resident who would disappear inside the building, possibly to eat it himself.)

  And he couldn’t trust me to go inside and come out with one of the twins. I wouldn’t do it. I would call the police from the nearest phone.

  So if he knew how to get in, what did he need me for? It’s funny about puzzles. When you see the answer, you can’t imagine why you didn’t see it before.

  Gerry Spanner didn’t know which room the twins lived in. He needed me to show him. He couldn’t go from room to room without waking a number of residents and causing a stir. Once I saw that, I knew exactly what I had to do. It was chancy and might put an innocent person in jeopardy, but I had no other choice.

  We watched the residents go inside at dusk. One by one, lights went on in the bedrooms. Another hour passed. I wanted desperately to stand, stretch, run in place, but every time my movements made a crunch, Spanner turned on me with a glare that said everything.

  I tried several times to engage Spanner in conversation. I had grandiose ideas of distracting him, disarming him, dissuading him. Although I knew the chances of doing any of those things were very slim, I had to try. But Spanner had no interest in conversation. He sat slightly behind me and to my left so that he could see my every move, and whenever I tried to talk, he shushed me brusquely.

  The lights started to go out. The sky was now dark and I could no longer read my watch, but if Jack had driven up from New York, he would have arrived hours ago. I had kept my eyes peeled, but had seen him nowhere.

  I wasn’t sure how many staff members slept at Greenwillow, but two lights remained stubbornly lit after all the others were out. I could imagine someone lying in bed with a good book—how I wished I were in my own!—until the wee hours. I was so tired that I fell asleep against a tree, waking with a start when Spanner nudged me.

  “Get up,” he ordered.

  I had to orient myself for a minute. Then I stood, found my bag on the ground, and followed him toward the building.

  He kept one hand wrapped tightly around my upper arm, tugging at it to stop me, to move forward, to slow me down. He knew where we were going, so I assumed he had scouted the area sometime earlier.

  We came out behind the hospital and moved toward the Greenwillow wing, staying close to the building. We actually entered the hospital itself through a door that led to the basement level. There was a laundry on one side of the hall, and some doors fitted with wired glass panes behind which there was no light. I don’t like hospitals, probably because almost everyone I’ve ever visited in them died. Although we were far from any patients, it was eerie and the hall was dimly lighted, and my distaste was palpable.

  Spanner led the way to a door which opened into a dark area.

  “This way,” he said.

  We came to a flight of stairs, at the top of which was another door, and that one opened into the Greenwillow kitchen. In the moonlight I could see pots hanging from hooks, the large refrigerator, the huge institutional stove. Spanner’s fingers were pressing into my flesh, hurting me and angering me.

  We came out of the kitchen and walked into the entrance area. It was dark and empty.

  “You know where their room is?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go.”

  We went up the stairs and down the hall. I walked purposely past the Talleys’ room and stopped at my cousin Gene’s.

  “This it?”

  “Yes.” I wondered if he could tell I was shaking.

  “I’ll be out here. Get me one of the twins.” He moved back down the hall toward the stairs.

  I went inside and woke Gene. “Gene,” I said softly, “it’s me, Kix.”

  “Kix?”

  “Yes. Listen, do you know where Jonesy’s room is?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you count to twenty?”

  “Yes. One, two, t
hree—”

  “Shh. That’s good. Listen, after I go out, you count to twenty. Then go to Jonesy’s room and tell her Chris said to call the police. Can you say that?”

  “Kix said call police.”

  It would have to do. “Okay. That’s good. Now, you wait till I’m outside, then count to twenty. Then find Jonesy.”

  “Okay.”

  I left him, hoping fervently it would work.

  Spanner moved toward me quickly as I left the bedroom. “Where the hell is he?” he said in a whisper.

  “I don’t know. They changed the room. Somebody else is in there. It’s not the twins.” I was speaking quietly but out loud. I started down the hall, away from the Talleys’ room, away from the stairs. When I got to the next door, I opened it and looked in. “They’re not here.” I moved forward.

  Spanner caught my arm. “Keep your goddamn voice down! You know damn well where they are. Take me to their room.” He was in a fury, his voice shaking as it rose in pitch.

  “There are some bigger rooms back here,” I said, pulling him toward the back of the building. “Let me look.” I opened another door and peered in, waiting until I heard Gene open his door behind us and run out. “They’re not here.” The occupant of the room turned over in bed at the sound of my voice.

  Spanner shook me. He was in such a rage, I was afraid he might shoot me just to sate his anger. I had to keep him at bay until the police arrived, which might be five minutes or more.

  “You bitch,” he said, nearly frothing at the mouth. He pushed me toward the next door, opened it himself, and looked in. A woman sat up in bed, looked at him, and screamed. He slammed the door and went to the next door, which was around a corner.

  There were stirrings now in the rooms, but no sound of sirens. What if Gene hadn’t delivered the message correctly? What if Jonesy decided to investigate herself, coming upstairs in a nightgown to look around? Spanner would have two hostages instead of one, and a possible panic among the residents.

  Suddenly the light went on in the hallway. Spanner pulled me in front of him, pinning my hands in front of me with his arm. In his other hand I could see the gun.

  “Spanner,” a familiar voice called, “this is Sergeant Brooks of the New York City police. Put your weapon down and walk toward the stairs.”

  “Jack,” I called to let him know I was there. Then I relaxed.

  In some ways I am ridiculously naive. When I heard Jack’s voice, I really thought it was all over, that Spanner would let me go, put down his gun, and give himself up. I guess that tells you more about me than about anything else. Spanner clearly had no intention of giving up without a fight, and I was to be his shield and his weapon.

  We had turned the corner before we heard Jack’s voice, and down the hall on the wall was a large EXIT sign lighted in red. I had been present at least once during a fire drill, and the residents knew what “exit” meant and knew how to get out. So, apparently, did Gerry Spanner.

  He pushed me toward the fire stairs as I heard someone running toward us from behind. Inside the door there were stairs in both directions. For a moment I thought he was going to try for the roof, but he changed his mind and we started down. He was pushing me so hard, I was afraid I’d fall and kill us both, but somehow I made it to the first floor safely.

  As we ran, the door on the second floor opened and a man’s voice called, “Let her go, Spanner. There’s nowhere you can go now.” Footsteps started down the stairs behind us. The voice wasn’t Jack’s, and I realized the local police had arrived.

  “I’ll kill her,” Spanner shouted, and I thought, He means it. He’s desperate.

  The gun was along my waist, pointing forward. With a flick of his wrist, Spanner could easily have turned it in to my body.

  At the bottom of the stairs, a door opened onto the terrace at the back of the Greenwillow wing. Spanner pushed it open. Lights had been turned on everywhere, and we practically walked into Jack’s arms.

  “It’s okay, Chris,” he said, and I nodded.

  “Out of the way,” Spanner said, and Jack backed off slowly.

  Like a snapshot frozen forever, his face at that moment is imprinted in my mind. All the features were the same, but the composite was someone I had never met. There was no almost smile on his lips, no warmth in his eyes, no hint of the low-key, easygoing man I was half in love with.

  Spanner turned around and pulled me backward so that we faced Jack, so that if he shot, I would be hit. I couldn’t imagine where Spanner was going to take me. My car was parked half a mile away, and I had no idea where his was, if he had one.

  Suddenly Jack yelled, “No!” to someone behind us, and Spanner pulled me backward roughly as he leaned against the wall. Two policemen stood facing us to the left while Jack was to our right. I was sure I heard a click as one of the local policemen cocked his gun.

  “Drop the guns, cops,” Spanner shouted.

  Nothing happened. It was like a film frozen on one terrifying frame.

  “Now!” Spanner screamed, tightening his hold on me. “I’ll kill her. Drop them.” He waved his gun around, then brought it back and pushed it into my side.

  The three men moved in a kind of crazy slow motion, laying their guns on the ground, then straightening up. Pushing me ahead of him, Spanner picked up all three and dropped them into his shirt. From the look of them, they must have weighed about ten pounds. I could feel them against my back as he pressed me toward him.

  “Back,” he ordered the two local policemen, and they retreated very slowly to where Jack was standing. Then he pushed me and we started running.

  I knew we were heading for the door to the hospital basement. I knew, too, that no one would chance shooting, because a bullet that hit Spanner might go right through him and into me. That had been why Jack had shouted No. We made it through the door, and Spanner took a moment to lock it. Then we started down the long, dim corridor away from Greenwillow.

  “Just keep quiet and you may survive this,” Spanner said as we ran.

  He obviously knew his way around. We passed one stairway and then ducked into another and went up. There was a big “1” on the wall at the head of the stairs, and he pushed the door open. We were on a corridor that stretched endlessly in both directions. Spanner pushed me to the right and we started running again.

  By now he was panting hard, his breath hot around my neck. It occurred to me he must be at least in his mid-sixties and he wasn’t in especially good shape, or so it seemed to me. I probably had a couple of miles of running ahead of me until I began to feel fatigued, but I was awfully tired. Listening to his labored breathing, smelling the stench of his sweat, I wondered how much longer he could hold out.

  It wasn’t much. We left the hospital through a fire door on the front side, and Spanner stopped and leaned against the building to catch his breath. In the parking circle near the main entrance to our right I could see a police car with its light rotating on the roof. That was probably Spanner’s means of escape. I didn’t want it to be my death conveyance. If I got into that car, I was dead. There was no time to think, to figure, to weigh, to measure. It was act now or die. I made my move.

  Rallying what was left of my strength, I pulled away from him, heard him shout, “Hey!” and come after me. He grabbed the back of my blouse, and I lost my footing and came down on him.

  That was when I heard the explosion. It was so loud and so close that I screamed and pulled away. Spanner had released me. I looked back at him from where I was sitting on the concrete walk. He had keeled over on the ground, and it went through my mind that he must have had a heart attack from the exertion.

  Police came charging toward us, some from the left, where Greenwillow was, some from the right, where the entrance to the hospital was. Two armed cops moved in first, their guns pointed at the unmoving Spanner.

  Jack was suddenly next to me, shielding my view of Spanner.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  One of the cops I couldn
’t see answered my question. “Looks like his arsenal got him.”

  I felt foggy. “I don’t understand.”

  Jack looked away, then slid his arm around me and held me, both of us sitting on the ground like a couple of children. “One of the guns in his shirt went off.”

  “Oh no,” I said, and I was instantly overcome with the worst case of chills I have ever experienced.

  Someone found a blanket for me—we were, after all, outside a hospital—and Spanner was put on a stretcher, the guns removed from his shirt after it was ripped open so that a doctor and nurse could begin working on the wound.

  I started thinking again. “Jack, my keys. Spanner put them in his pocket.”

  Jack wrapped the blanket around me so it would stay in place and got up. There was a conference around the stretcher, and he came back with my keys. My bag was probably somewhere at Greenwillow, most likely on the fire stairs.

  At the thought of Greenwillow, my responsibilities came back to me. “I’ve got to get to Greenwillow,” I told him.

  “There’s time.”

  “No. Right now.”

  He talked briefly with a uniformed officer whom I took to be the local chief of police, and then he came back and helped me up. We were driven the short distance to Greenwillow in a police car. Jonesy opened the front door for us. She looked scared to death.

  “Where’s my cousin?” I asked as we walked in. “Where’s Gene?”

  “In my room.”

  We followed her to her small apartment on the first floor. Gene was sitting on her bed in his pajamas, looking desolate.

  “Gene,” I said, “are you okay?”

  He shook his head.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “No eighteen.”

  “I don’t understand.” I sat beside him and put my arm around him.

  “No eighteen,” he said, and he sounded near tears.

  “Did you ask him to count or something?” Jonesy asked.

  “Yes. To twenty and then find you.”

  “Well, he forgot eighteen, and I thought that’s what he was coming down and waking me up to ask me.”

  “Gene,” I said, hugging him, “you were wonderful. You were marvelous.”