A Killer in the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking up at the ceiling, at the painted cherubs. They seemed sinister now in their cloudy surroundings, more like demon imps than cherubs. Grinning, feral, ravenous, their eyes gleaming. Mocking me, like Emory’s eyes.
    It’s the pills, I thought. I should stop taking the pills . But I knew I wouldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t stand the thoughts that came to me as I lay awake. The Fat Woman’s missing face. Emory’s delicate evil.
    Soon, my breathing slowed. The chemical calm descended on me. What the hell? I thought. I slept.
    The next morning, early, I went to Emory’s apartment. I slipped past the doorman and made my way to his apartment, unannounced. I pounded on the door with my fist until I heard his footsteps inside. I saw a flicker of shadow at the peephole.
    It was just past 7 A.M . Too early for business. Too early even for the maid. I figured he’d be alone.
    He was. He opened the door. He was wearing a plaid bathrobe.
    “What on earth are you . . . ?” he said.
    I stormed in past him.
    “Shut the door,” I told him.
    “The doorman didn’t ring. How’d you . . . ?”
    I went back to him and took the door out of his hand and shut it forcefully. I put my face close to his. I made myself look afraid. Maybe I really was afraid.
    “That thing I said to you. At the club the other day.” When he hesitated, I said harshly, “You remember.”
    “Yes,” he said. “Yes. Of course.” He was being cautious, watchful.
    “Well, forget it. I didn’t mean it. It was a joke.”
    “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”
    I wiped my mouth with my hand, really playing it, really looking panicked, tapping into that tension, that buzz that was all through me whenever the Z wore off. I dropped my voice low. “Someone’s been watching me. Staking out my apartment. Must be the cops. Has to be. Who else could it be?”
    It took a moment before Emory understood what had happened. Then his pale, flaccid face relaxed. He smiled a superior smile.
    “Oh, no, no, no. Relax, relax.” He said it singsong, as if he were talking to an old woman or a child. “Don’t be so paranoid.”
    I pretended his attitude was a revelation. “You already knew! Did you send him?”
    “No, no, not me. But the people I deal with . . . They’re cautious. They have protocols. You have to expect that. It’s only reasonable.”
    I paced, pretending to think it over. Paused. Stared at him. “These are, like, your suppliers?”
    “Don’t look so worried. It’s all right. You check out just fine.”
    I stared at him another moment, then let a breath out as if I were relaxing. “You should’ve told me.”
    “Now that would have spoiled the whole idea, wouldn’t it,” he said—and once again, he wrinkled his nose, cute, an old woman talking to a poodle. My stomach turned over. “I’m surprised you spotted him. They tell me he’s very good.”
    “Look, this isn’t . . . ? I mean, you’re not some sort of . . . ?”
    “What?” he said. “Policeman? Please! Of course not. You came to me . Remember?”
    I hesitated—then I nodded.
    “All we’ll require now is a money transfer,” he went on. “One computer to another, easy as that.”
    I nodded again, looking antsy—feeling antsy.
    Emory took a step toward me. He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I wanted to rip his arm off and beat him to death with it. Him and his sick desires. “It’s all right,” he said again. “You’re nearly there. You’ve almost arrived. You’ve come to the right place, found what you’re looking for.” The green eyes buried in the soft folds of his pale skin gleamed out at me and I remembered the imps on the ceiling of the bedroom. He went on in a soothing, hypnotic voice: “No more half-starved, half-drugged yellow trash. What we’re talking about is white. Fresh. Safe. Completely safe. No history. No future. She’ll exist only in your moment of . . . absolute delight.”
    It was an effort to keep the