The Matarese Countdown Read Online Free PDF Page B

occupied and, I suppose, to enhance his self-esteem, I put him on the finance committee of our Wildlife Association, made him chairman, in fact. Irregularities began to appear, allocations to nonexistent entities, that sort of thing.… The bottom line is that Gerald stole over a million pounds from the association.”
    “Jesus
Christ!
” exclaimed the son.
    “But
why?
He’s never been stony since you married him! Why
did
you marry him?”
    “He was so charming, so alive—on the surface in many ways like your father, but only on the surface. And, let’s face it, I was terribly depressed. I thought he had strength until I learned it was only false bravado.… Where is he?”
    “In the upstairs library, Mother. I’m afraid he’s drunk.”
    “Yes, I assumed as much. You see, I did use my solicitor, after a fashion. I’ll make up the money, but I can’t press charges or anything like that—the publicity could harm the association. He was told to pack his bags and be ready to leave at once after confronting me. I demanded that. I’ll go up now.”
    “I’ll go with you.”
    “No, dear, it’s not necessary. When he comes downstairs, put him in his car. If he’s too drunk to get behind the wheel, call Coleman and have him drive Gerald wherever he wishes to go. I suspect to his new girl in High Holborn. They’re quite thick.”
    Alicia climbed the circular staircase rapidly, purposefully, a vengeful Valkyrie wanting answers. She approached the door of the upstairs library, Daniel Brewster’s defiled personal study, and flung it open.
    “Well,
well!
” cried the apparently inebriated Gerald, slumped in a dark leather armchair, a bottle of whiskey on the table beside him, his half-empty glass weaving below his lips. “Lady rich-bitch detective arrives. Sorry about everything, old girl, but you see, you
are
getting old, and you’re not terribly inviting any longer.”
    “Why, Gerry,
why?
I’ve never denied you a
shilling
when you asked for it! Why did you
do
this?”
    “Have you ever lived as nothing more than a useless appendage of a rich bitch who wouldn’t even assume my name? No, of course not, because
you’re
that rich bitch!”
    “I explained why I kept the name Brewster and you agreed,” said Lady Alicia, walking over to the chair. “Not only for the children’s sake, but I was honored in that name. Also, I never treated you shabbily, and you know it. You’rea sick man, Gerald, but I’m still prepared to help you, if you’ll seek help. Perhaps it
is
my fault, for you were once so much fun to be with, so concerned with my grief, I can’t forget that. You helped me when I needed help, Gerry, and I’ll help you now, if you’ll let me.”
    “
Jesus
, I can’t stand saints. What can you do for me now? I’ll spend years in prison, and then what?”
    “No, you won’t. I’ll replace the money and you’ll leave England. Canada or America, perhaps, where you can get counseling, but you cannot stay in this house any longer. Take my offer, Gerald, it’s the last I’ll give.”
    Alicia stood over her husband, her eyes pleading, when suddenly he lurched out of the chair, grabbing her skirt and yanking it above her hips. A syringe appeared from beneath his trousers, as he clasped his hand over her mouth, and plunged the needle into her hosed thigh. He held his hand brutally in place until she collapsed. She was dead.
    A totally sober killer walked over to the telephone on the library desk. He dialed a coded number in France, which was rerouted to Istanbul, then Switzerland, and finally—lost in the computers—to the Netherlands. “Yes?” answered the man in Amsterdam.
    “It’s done.”
    “Good. Now play the distraught husband, the anguished guilty man, and get out of there.
Remember
, do not use your Jaguar. A perfectly normal London taxi is waiting for you. You’ll know it by the driver holding a yellow handkerchief out the window.”
    “You’ll
protect
me? You
promised
me