Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

wrinkled my nose again. “They use that glue for beards, too, right? Bushy eyebrows, mustaches, stuff like that?”
    Frowning. “Yes.” Nervous. Taking another drink.
    “Here, let me top that off for you,” I said. And like a good little boy, he drained the glass to make room for his refill. “A little extra hair here and there, a jacket that’s too big, maybe a cap, some old beat-up boots, your own mother wouldn’t know you, would she? So what’s the deal, you just get the old clothes at Housing Works, then toss them before you come home, is that how it works? Maybe the Salvation Army. Their stuff is crappier. Cheaper, too. Am I right? You know, I’ve done a bit of this myself. I’d have to, wouldn’t I, going undercover as a hooker, a homeless person, whatever’s necessary to get the job done. It’s kind of fun actually, fooling people like that. I find it quite a turn-on.”
    He stared for a moment, then he put down his glass. “You didn’t find her. You’re just fucking around with me, aren’t you?”
    “I did find her. And I’m not just fucking around with you. I’m dead serious.”
    “The kid’s talking, is that it?”
    “Not exactly. But she is communicating nonetheless.“
    “What did she say?” Wondering perhaps if she’d seen him waiting across the street that last day, if she’d recognized him despite the getup.
    I shook my head. “It’s not what she said. It’s what she drew. But you already saw that, Madison’s completed drawing. It was on my lap when I was sitting out front and you were on your way to, what was it you said? A shoot? A commercial? Well, whatever. So now we both know that Madison was only expressing her feelings. She hadn’t threatened Dr. Bechman at all. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Leaning forward, I answered his question slowly so that he’d get the full meaning of what I was about to tell him. “Actually,” I said, “by now, someone else is talking, someone who knows a lot more than Madison. Madison only knows what she didn’t do. But Louise Peach knows everything, doesn’t she, and by now, she’s making it patently clear to the detectives who did what. By the way, what exactly is the connection, older sister, aunt, second cousin?”
    Ted stood and took a step toward me. Dashiell stood, too, but Ted didn’t notice, and by then, it no longer mattered. His legs, legs that usually worked so much harder and so much better than anyone else’s, were no longer doing what he wanted them to.
    “Sit down, Ted. It’s all over,” watching his left shin bang into the coffee table, then seeing him stumble backwards, ending up in exactly the same place he’d been before. “Answer my questions or don’t, it’s all the same at this point. Your cousin is already in custody and I’m sure she’s giving everything a nice little spin.” I paused to let that sink in.
    “My aunt,” he said, blinking as if something had gotten into both eyes at once, beginning to lose the battle with the double dose of Ambien I’d put in his drink, the same drug Dr. Edelstein had given Ms. Peach, saying it would help her with her bad knee.
    “Ah, your father’s sister. It’s always good to see that family values are alive and well, even here in tough old New York.”
    He was trying to make a fist but his fingers weren’t working any better than his legs had a moment earlier.
    “I always thought that if you’re going to get caught anyway, it’s always a good idea to go down first, before your partner. That way, you can put the blame where it truly belongs. That way you get to be the one offered the deal for cooperating.” I shrugged. “Better luck next time,” I told him, even though it was too soon for Louise Peach to be cutting a deal. She was as dead to the world as Ted would soon be.
    But when I looked at the smug expression on his face, Ted sure he was going to get the last laugh, I realized my mistake.
    “She doesn’t know,” I said. “You never told her it was you who killed Bechman. She really does think it was Madison. And you never told her about shutting up Celia for good either. Damn. You had me fooled, your aunt fooled, too.” I shook my head. “By the way, I hope whatever you put into my wine mixes well with what I dropped in.” I watched my words register on his face, no acting this time, sure I got the last laugh after all.
    I put my glass down and leaned toward him. “I bet you never