His jaw clenched and his mouth tightened.
“So you went to Vegas,” I said. “How’d you get there?”
“Took the bus, went from casino to casino. Figuring a whore that good-looking would be working out of one of them. And I was right—you know, that’s the amazing thing about all of this.”
“What is?”
“How easy it is.”
“Finding people?”
“Finding and . . . taking care of them. I mean I’d never even come close to doing anything like that to anyone before I handled the girl in the alley.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve had harder parts to play.”
“Was Mandy easy, too?”
“Easier. Because I had even more motivation. And she made it easy. Driving around in a Ferrari convertible. Ostentatious little bitch, right there in the open. I watched her park it at a casino, give the valet a big tip—Miss Hotshot. I followed her, watched her for two days, found out where she lived, waited until she came home alone, and surprised her.”
“Same way?” I said. “Hand over the mouth, knee in the back?”
“Why mess with a good thing? She was stupid enough to have her keys out, so I just opened the door and got her inside her apartment. She was loopy to begin with—stoned on something. Probably coke because her nose was a little raw. I put my knife across her throat and told her I’d filet her like a monkfish if she made a peep—”
“This time you brought a knife.”
“Definitely.”
“It had to be a knife, didn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Flipping his hair.
“Because . . .”
“Reciprocity—synchronicity. Like that Police song. They cut me, I cut them.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Makes perfect sense. All I had to do to remember how much sense it made was to try a toe-touch or a sit-up and feel the pain in my back. Thinking about Embassy Row and what might have been.”
His eyes turned to slits. Moving closer to the glass again, he said, “They say you only need one kidney, I can live til a hundred. But having only one makes me vulnerable. What if I get an infection and lose the one?”
“So it was time to make Mandy feel vulnerable.”
“Not feel, be.”
“Be,” I echoed. “What next?”
“She pissed her panties—Miss Tough Call Girl. I tied her up with some bicycle bungee cords I’d brought—hog-tied her, began the interrogation. She claimed all she knew was that a psychology professor from the U had hired her to pick me up, slip a Mickey in my drink. That she hadn’t known why. As if that excused it. I said which professor and she tried to hold back on me. I covered her mouth and pinched her nose the way I’d done with the waitress and she blurted out the name. Which I already knew, because what other psychology prof hated me?”
“Did she say how she knew Devane?”
“Yes. She said Devane had hired her.”
“For sex?”
“Games she called it. She said Hope was into kinky stuff—bondage. Had seen her dance somewhere up in San Francisco and picked her up—sick, huh? A psychologist that twisted.”
“Then what?”
“Then, I untied her and said thanks for being honest with me, baby. To disarm her psychologically. Then, I took her back outside in front of her house, told her I was going to let her go if she kept her mouth shut. She looked so relieved, she actually thanked me, tried to kiss me, showing tongue. It reminded me of how she’d kissed me in my car just before the lights went out. No one was on the street, so I took hold of her hand, held it still so she couldn’t touch me. Then I gave her the knife.”
“Where?”
“First in the heart, because they’d broken my heart by looting my body, robbing me of my entire future. Then in her cunt because she’d used her cunt to trap me. Then I put her on the ground and turned her over and stabbed her in the back. Just like she’d done to me. Right over her kidney.”
He reached behind and winced. “Never really knew where the kidney was before.”