Never Too Rich (56 page)

Sun and sea, she thought dreamily. Sun and sea and
Doc.

She couldn’t imagine anything more perfect—or more
perfectly romantic.

Smiling at the thought, she slid out of the peacoat,
peeled off her denims, and shimmied out of her underwear. Since she
couldn’t have sun and sea, a soak in the tub was the next best
alternative. Nothing relaxed her quite like warm water. Especially
with mountains and mountains of soft fragrant bubbles.

Humming “Pretty Shells” to herself, she hula-ed her
way into the bathroom.

And suddenly her world tilted and the beautiful day
turned into a nightmare.

She clapped both hands over her mouth.

Ermine Jeannot was sprawled grotesquely in the
bathtub, head lolling back, glazed eyes staring sightlessy at a
point on the ceiling. Her throat was like a dark, obscene mouth,
and she was lying in a pool of blood. In
inches
of
blood!

Cymbals clanged and steel drums made metallic
screeches in Billie Dawn’s mind.

“
Ermine,” she whimpered. “Ermine .
. .”

Shaking uncontrollably, she backed out of the
bathroom, taking first one step, then another, and another.

She had to get out of here! She had to—

She turned her head away from the terrible sight
just in time to see a policeman sliding into view in the mirror
over the sink.

She spun around. “Officer!” she babbled, and rushed
toward him. “Officer! Thank God you’re—”

She froze in her tracks as he blocked her way, a
switchblade leaping into his hand.

“
Oh, no! We’re not going
anywhere,
my pretty!” the thing in the cop’s uniform
whispered, taking a step toward her. “Pretty’s going to give me her
hair!”

She backed up a step, and as he advanced on her, the
twin images of her terrified face in his mirrored aviator shades
grew in size.

“
Such nice long hair!” Miss Bitch
hissed. “Pretty’s got such nice, such
silky,
such
wonderfully waist-long hair! And it’s
mine!
All mine!” He
raised his knife arm and hurled himself at her.

“
Check up on Patient 101, would
you, Cathy?” Duncan Cooper told the young nurse. “She should be
coming out from under anesthesia right about now.”

“
Righto, Doc. One-oh-one, here I
come!” She flashed him a smile and marched off
efficiently.

It was one of the gospels of the Cooper Clinic never
to refer to a patient by name, only by the number of the room he or
she occupied. Even if it was an internationally recognized
celebrity, such as this one, the pretense of anonymity was never
violated—not even in conversations among the staff. Loose lips sank
ships—or in this case, could all too easily provide fodder for the
gossip columns.

“
Coop!”

Duncan turned around. Mark Roberts, one of the
clinic’s newer surgeons, was bearing down on him, white lab coat
flapping.

“
Have a minute?” Roberts asked. “I
want to throw around a few ideas I have concerning the new
annex.”

“
Sure,” Duncan said. “But let’s go
next door, shall we? I haven’t even had time for lunch. You can
tell me all about it over a sandwich.”

“
You got it.”

Duncan led the way to the steel doors connecting the
clinic with the town house. He fished out his keys and unlocked one
door, then the other.

They had barely come into the town house when they
heard unearthly screams coming from upstairs.

For a moment they stared at each other. Then Duncan
raced toward the stairs, Mark Roberts on his heels.

“
Billie!” Duncan yelled at the top
of his lungs. “Biiiiillieeeee!”

Miss Bitch was torn between monstrous rage and fear
born of self-preservation. He hesitated only momentarily. Someone
was already on the stairs. He could hear the
crash-bang
of
racing feet.

His head whirled to the door. Escape cut off there.
His head snapped back around. The windows! They looked down on the
shady garden out back, one floor below—a garden that would be like
all the others on these blocks, either walled-in or fenced-in. But
one adjoined another, and that one another yet.
Yes!

Miss Bitch threw caution to the winds, shielded his
face with his arms, and ran at the nearest window, diving right
through it.

It was like an explosion as he hurled through the
air in a shower of glass.

Duncan burst into the room and ran to Billie. He
grabbed her by both arms. “Are you all right?”

She nodded numbly, her lips trembling
uncontrollably.

He embraced her swiftly. “Thank God!” he said
fervently. Then he held her away at arm’s length. “You’re sure
you’re not hurt?”

She nodded. “Just a little shaken. I . . . I’ll be
fine.”

Nodding, he let go of her and ran to the broken
window and looked down. Below, the intruder was already scampering
up the shaky trellis. As Duncan and Roberts watched, the phony cop
reached the top and jumped down into the adjoining garden.

“
Damn!” Duncan blurted, making a
gesture of futility. “We almost had the bastard!”

Chapter 58

The town house was crawling with policemen.
Forensics was dusting the entire place from basement to roof for
prints.

“
Just in case,” Fred Koscina
muttered, although he didn’t harbor any real hopes of finding a
single fingerprint. Not after Billie Dawn had told him the guy had
been wearing surgical gloves. Still, you never could tell. Maybe
he’d even left an intentional clue somewhere. Psychos were hard to
figure.

“
You’re reaching, boss,” Carmen
Toledo told him. “Our guy is too smart for that.”

“
Yeah, but at this point I’m ready
to reach for the goddamn moon,” Fred growled. “C’mon. Let’s see how
our eyewitness and the sketch artist are doing. We’re about due for
a break.”

“
Yeah, and I believe in the Easter
Bunny,” Toledo muttered under her breath.

Billie Dawn was here, but she wasn’t here.
Everything around her seemed to be happening in a slow-motion fog.
Duncan had wanted to give her a tranquilizer, but she wouldn’t hear
of it.

“
No. I’m fine,” she had told him
shakily. “It’s Ermine who isn’t.” And she’d buried her face in his
chest and cried and cried until no more tears would
come.

She had stared blankly as the body bag containing
Ermine Jeannot was carried out.

Then detectives Fred Koscina and Carmen Toledo had
arranged for a police sketch artist to come over.

Sketch artist? “What for?” Billie had asked
dully.

Detective Koscina had said, “So we know what the
bastard looks like.”

She’d rubbed her long slender hands in agitation.
“It’s no use,” she’d told him bleakly, shaking her head and
frowning. “It . . . it all happened so fast, and . . .”

“
And what?” Koscina had prodded
gently.

She had lifted her face to his and stared. “He
didn’t look
human!
Or maybe I should say, he looked human
but that he didn’t have any distinguishing features. It’s almost as
if . . .” Knitting her brow and frowning, she’d nodded to herself.
“It was as if the getup he was wearing had rendered him entirely
featureless.”

Koscina and Toledo had exchanged sharp glances.

“
Please, try anyway,” Carmen Toledo
had urged her. “A lot of times, witnesses don’t realize how much
they really saw.”

So she tried to be of help. She must do anything in
her power to help catch this maniac on the loose.

Round heads.

Narrow heads.

Square heads.

Rectangular heads.

How many head shapes could there possibly be?

Long noses.

Short noses.

Wide noses.

Skinny noses.

Flat noses.

One nose merged into another; one face looked just
like all the rest.

Now, her eyes blurring, Billie Dawn looked at the
most recent full-face sketch and shook her head mournfully. “It’s
no use.” She sighed and slumped back on the couch. “It looks like
him, but . . . but that’s the trouble, don’t you see? It could be
almost any Caucasian. I’m sorry. Truly I am.” She felt like
sobbing.

Duncan put his arms supportively around her. “Come
on. Let me put you to bed and give you something to make you
sleep.”

Koscina cleared his throat. “There’s just one more
little thing.”

“
Please!”
Duncan looked up
at him angrily. “Hasn’t she been through enough for one
day?”

Koscina’s expression did not change. “This won’t
take long,” he promised. “But I was thinking. There just might be a
way we can flush this bastard out after all.”

They all stared at him.

Billie Dawn’s face had gone hard and determined.
“How?”

Koscina pulled up a chair opposite the couch and
told them.

“
No!” Duncan said angrily. “No
fucking way. I refuse to allow Billie to be used as bait. And
that’s
that!”

“
My gut instinct tells me our guy
will try again,” Koscina said grimly. He was leaning back, his
hands in the pockets of his coat.

Duncan’s cold eyes flashed. “You heard me the first
time. No . . . fucking . . . way.”

“
Please, Dr. Cooper. I know this
isn’t easy, but—”

“
You’re damn right!” Duncan was
steaming.

He couldn’t believe it! How
dared
they! And
how stupid did they think he was? No way was he going to let them
dangle his precious Billie like some carrot in front of a
rabbit—especially not when the rabbit was a psycho maniac!

Couldn’t they understand? Billie Dawn was the love
of his life— his to protect and cherish. If that maniac managed to
get his hands on her, there would be nothing left to
cherish—nothing but memories.

And memories weren’t enough.

They would just have to use somebody else. Somebody
trained for this kind of job. A policewoman decoy, maybe.

“
Look, Dr. Cooper,” Koscina said in
his most reasonable tone, “don’t you want the maniac who was here
in
your
home, who was after the one person who means the
most to—”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“
Jesus H.
Christ!”
Duncan
yelled, jumping to his feet. “Don’t you realize what you’re asking
of her?”

“
Yes, Dr. Cooper,” Koscina said
wearily, “unfortunately I do. And also unfortunately, I realize
what we’re up against. We need your help. If we had any other
choice, believe me, we wouldn’t be asking.”

“
No harm in asking,” Duncan said
sarcastically. “Except you already have your answer.” He flopped
onto the sofa and seethed.

Koscina wasn’t known for backing down. He kept on
staring at Duncan. “Well?” he asked after a while.

Duncan reached for the drink he had poured himself
earlier and took a slug. “You bastard,” he said tonelessly.

It was like flinging balloons at a brick wall.

“
Why her?” Duncan searched
Koscina’s face. “Why does it have to be Billie?”

Koscina sighed heavily. “Because, Dr. Cooper, we
know he’s after her.”

Duncan finished his drink. “Let him go after
somebody else.”

“
We’ll guard her around the
clock.”

Duncan gave a humorless bark of a laugh.
“That’s
supposed to help us sleep better?”

Billie laid a hand on his arm. “Doc . . .”

Turning to her, Duncan reached up and gently touched
her face. “Billie, I won’t let them. I won’t let them use you.”

“
Darling,” she said softly,
“please.
Listen to him! If we don’t help them catch him,
he’s . . . liable to come after me again anyway. Don’t you see? We
have
to help them catch him and put him away. For
my
sake, if no one else’s.”

Something desperate and pleading shone in her
eyes.

He just sat there, too stunned to argue anymore.
Even in her shock, Billie had put her finger unerringly on what
hadn’t even occurred to him. Maybe he was losing it. Because if he
had been thinking straight, he’d have figured that out for himself
already. Hours ago, in fact.

His body went stone cold.

My Billie. My lovely Billie.

Shadowed and guarded day and night.

Until the creep comes around again.

Because he
will
come again sometime. He has
to.

He’s got unfinished business to take care of.

Unfinished business by the name of Billie Dawn.

Oh, God!

I don’t think I can bear it.

But it has to be done.

Same World/Same
Time

In the Realm of Miss
Bitch

From the wig stands on the vanity the faces of the
sacrificed seemed to mock him.

Failed!

Miss Bitch paced agitatedly, pulling at his hair
until his scalp burned. His chest was heaving and tears of
frustration stung in his eyes. He had failed! Just when everything
was going so beautifully, just when he had her, the prize bad been
snatched right out of his hands.

Volleys of high-pitched laughter rang out in his
ears. He clapped his hands over them, trying to drown out the
sound. But it kept on coming in rising waves.

“
Shut up!” he screamed. “Shut up,
all of you!”

He whirled around. The laughter abruptly stopped.
The faces of the sacrificed were mute.

Grabbing up the switchblade and holding it straight
out with his arm extended, he advanced threateningly upon the
vanity.