The Con Man (87th Precinct) - By Ed McBain Page 0,61

wrong with your voice?”

Teddy nodded.

“What is it? Can you talk?”

She shook her head. Her eyes lingered on his mouth, and following her gaze, he suddenly knew.

“Are you deaf?” he asked.

Teddy nodded.

“Good,” Donaldson said flatly. He was silent again, watching her. “Did your husband put you up to following me?”

Teddy made no motion, no gesture. She stood as silent as a stone.

“Does he know about me?”

Again, no answer.

“Why were you following me?” Donaldson asked, moving closer to her. “Who put you on to me? Where’d I slip up?” He took her wrist. “Answer me, goddammit!”

His fingers were tight on her wrist. On the couch, Priscilla Ames moaned weakly. He turned abruptly.

“She’s been poisoned, you know that, don’t you?” he said to Teddy. “I poisoned her. She’ll be dead in a little while, and tonight, she goes into the river.” He saw Teddy’s involuntary shudder. “What’s the matter? Does that frighten you? Don’t be frightened. She’s in pain, but she hardly knows what the hell’s happening anymore. All she can think about right now is her own sickness. Christ, it smells vile in here! How can you stand it?” He laughed a short, harsh laugh. The laugh was over almost before it began. His voice grew hard again. There was no compromise in it now. “What does your husband know?” he asked. “What does your husband know?”

Teddy made no motion. Her face remained expressionless.

Donaldson watched her. “All right,” he said. “I’ll assume the worst. I’ll assume he’s headed here right now with a whole damn battalion of police. Okay?”

Again, there was nothing on Teddy’s face, nothing in her eyes.

“He won’t find a damn thing when he gets here. I’ll be gone, and Miss Ames’ll be gone, and you’ll be gone. He’ll find the four walls.” He went to the closet, opened it quickly, and pulled out a suitcase. “Come with me,” he said. He shoved Teddy ahead of him, into the bedroom. “Sit down,” he said. “On the bed. Hurry up.”

Teddy sat.

Donaldson went to the dresser and threw open the top drawer. He began shoveling clothes into the suitcase. “You’re a pretty one,” he said. “If I came onto something like you…” He didn’t complete the sentence. “The trouble with my business is that you can’t enjoy yourself,” he said vaguely. “Plain girls are good. They buy whatever you sell. Get involved with a beauty, and your secret’s in danger. Murder is a big secret, don’t you think? It pays well, too. Don’t let anyone tell you crime doesn’t pay. It pays excellently. If you don’t get caught.” He grinned. “I have no intention of getting caught.” He looked at her again. “You’re a pretty one. And you can’t talk. A secret could be told to you.” He shook his head. “It’s too bad we haven’t got more time.” He shook his head again. “You’re a pretty one,” he repeated.

Teddy sat on the bed, motionless.

“You must know how it is,” he said, “being good looking. It’s a pain sometimes, isn’t it? Men get to hate you, distrust you. Me, I mean. They don’t like a man who’s too good looking. Makes them feel uncomfortable. Too much virility for them. Points up their own petty quarrels with the world, makes than feel inadequate.” He paused. “I can get any girl I want, do you know that? Any girl. I just flutter my lashes, and they fall down dead.” He chuckled. “Dead. That’s a laugh, isn’t it? You must know, I guess. Men fall all over you, don’t they?” He looked at her, questioning. “Okay, sit there in your shell. You’re coming with me, you know that, don’t you? You’re my insurance.” He laughed again. “We’ll make a good couple. We’ll really give the spectators something to ogle. We offset each other. Blond and brunette. That’s very good. It won’t be bad, being seen with a pretty girl for a change. I get tired of these goddamn witches. But they pay well. I’ve got a nice bank balance.”

On the couch, Priscilla Ames moaned. Donaldson went to the doorway and looked into the living room. “Relax, lover,” he called. “In a little while, you’ll go for a nice refreshing swim.” He burst out laughing and turned to Teddy. “Nice girl,” he said. “Ugly as sin. Nice.” He went back to packing the bag, silent now, working rapidly.

Teddy watched him. He had not packed a gun, so perhaps he didn’t own one.

“You’ll help me downstairs with her,” he said suddenly. “The service elevator again. In and