Part 33 (1/2)

”And I told you I was in Orlando with my wife and kids,” I went on. ”When you came into my room you didn't look around for anyone else. You didn't ask where my wife and kids were.”

”I was...I didn't know what I was doing.”

”You did know,” I said. ”You knew.”

I turned to her husband.

”There was a little girl in that Laundromat,” I told him. ”She was standing a few feet away from me. Her name is Alaska Dreamer. She's got a toy monster with a big eye that lights up. She could have been killed.”

Janice Severtson's eyes looked at her unfinished omelet.

”Wait, I don't get anything if Stark committed suicide,” Kenneth Severtson said.

”No, but you do when your wife admits to killing him to protect your daughter from being molested. You set me up, Severtson. You both did. Stark didn't seduce your wife. She seduced him. He never touched your kids, did he?”

Neither of them answered this time.

”How long were you going to wait before Janice supposedly got conscience-stricken and called the Orlando police? Monday? Then they'd call me and you'd tell me to tell the truth. It wouldn't take much of a lawyer to get her to walk, but you can afford a good lawyer now.”

”But why kill you?” he asked. ”You're our witness.”

”You found out I had checked on your business and Stark's insurance. It wasn't hard. You just called your office and they told you about my coming there. Once I knew about the insurance and your getting control of the business, you'd be better off without me testifying to anything. Maybe you even wondered how long it would take me to ask myself who your wife had called at three in the morning from Orlando and she'd remember that she hadn't asked about the family I supposedly had on vacation. In fact, you couldn't afford to have me tell the Orlando police what I know.”

”This is crazy,” he said.

”You already said that twice. You didn't miss me on purpose. You're just a lousy shot. The only other person who might have wanted me dead was a man named Stanley who wouldn't have missed.”

”You haven't any proof,” Janice said.

”I know. That's why I wrote a letter last night and mailed it to a cop in Orlando. If I get killed now, I don't think he's going to buy your story and I don't think you'll stand a chance in h.e.l.l or on earth of collecting your money. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe a good lawyer can make me look bad on the stand. Probably can. Maybe you can get away with it. Probably not. The insurance company won't give up. They'll take you to civil court and your business is going to go to h.e.l.l fast. Great headline: *Wife Seduces and Murders Husband's Partner in Insurance Plot.'”

”You broke the law,” Janice reminded me. ”You advised me to say it was suicide.”

”And you made the mistake of going along with it,” I said. ”You thought fast. You'd go along with my suicide story and then break down and tell the police you had killed Stark to protect your children.”

”It was self-defense,” she said, her voice shaking. ”He hit me, said he was going to kill me and the children. I believed him.”

Ken Severtson was shaking his head yes. That was going to be their story.

”It's got big holes, especially me, but stick with that. It's probably the best you can do.

”I think my testimony will keep me from being charged for obstruction. I may be wrong. I've got a good law firm to represent me. You know Tycinker, Oliver, and Schwartz?”

They didn't answer.

The waitress brought the bill.

”I'll take it,” I said.

”Don't do this to our children,” Janice pleaded.

”With parents like you? I think I'm doing it for them.”

”Look, Fonesca,” Severtson said, leaning toward me. ”We can-”

”No,” I said. ”We can't.”

They got up and left without another word. I hoped Janice's sister was a decent human being. I hoped she'd take Kenny Jr. and Sydney. I hoped they wouldn't wind up on the desk of Sally Porovsky or someone in her office.

”Hey, Lew,” someone said, as I played with a strip of bacon.

I looked up.

Dave from the Dairy Queen sat down across from me with a mug of coffee in his hand.

”Got the kids over there,” he said, nodding toward a table across the room where his two children sat across from each other, drinking large gla.s.ses of chocolate milk.

He lifted his mug.

”Nice-looking couple you were having breakfast with,” he said.

”Nice-looking,” I agreed.

”So, tomorrow I take the kids to Disney World.”

”I was there the other day,” I said.

”You?”

”Yeah.”

”Have fun?” Dave asked.

”I'll never forget it,” I said.

Dave smiled, glanced at his children. His eyes went moist with a vision of happy kids and magical rides and singing dwarves. Or maybe I imagined it.

I went back to my room and erased the four messages on my machine without listening to them. Then I called Ann Horowitz's answering machine at work.

I hoped she wouldn't answer on a Sat.u.r.day. She didn't. Her machine said I could leave a short message and she would get back to me quickly or I could call her emergency number if I had an emergency. I didn't have an emergency. What I had to tell her would take a while.

There was a knock at the door. I didn't want a knock on the door unless it was a special delivery from a G.o.d I no longer believed in telling me that the last three years of my life had only been a dream.

”Come in,” I said.

Digger came in. He was smiling sadly. He needed a shave.

”How was last night?” I asked.

”Perfect. You should have seen me. Tripping the light fantastic. What does that mean, *tripping the light fantastic'?”