Voices of the dead

“Let me ask you something,” the neighbor said. “What size is your jacket?”

Tambke‚ puzzled‚ said‚ “Extra large. What do you want to know that for?”

Earlier, Cordell had been standing at the window looking out, listening to the alarm, thinking there was a fire but dint see no flames. The door opened, dude looked like a cop shined a light in his eyes, aiming a gun at him.

“Freeze,” the cop said. “Put your hands up.”

“Be cool. It’s okay. I’m stayin’ here.”

“Sure you are. Get on your knees, put your hands behind your back.”

He did. Cordell, fugitive from justice, wondering how they found him. Thinking it had to do with his trouble in Detroit. Dude cuffed him but soon as they were outside Cordell could see he was a rent-a-cop, and relaxed.

Now he was back in the pool house wide awake, 4:30-nothing on TV, wonderin’ what to do when he saw something move by the window. Got up for a better look, saw the cracker rent-a-cop heading toward the house. There was something different about him‚ but Cordell couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

38

Hess shot him once in the chest at close range with the silenced Walther PPK, the round bouncing around inside him, tearing up vital organs. He removed his cap and jacket, took the house keys, flashlight and sidearm, turned off the flashing lights, pulled the security man out of the automobile, and dragged him by his feet across a narrow strip of grass, hiding the body in the dense foliage on the south side of the house.

Hess unlocked the gate and entered the property, walked by the pool and pool house, across the lawn to the door that led to the kitchen. He tried several keys until he found one that fit the lock, opened the door and stepped in, listening-not a sound. He gripped the Walther, starting through the house, enough light to see where he was walking. Made his way through large rooms with high ceilings to the foyer, looking at the winding stairs, and started up.

Joyce was almost asleep when she heard the door open and saw the security guard come in. Now what? She sat up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

He closed the door and came toward her, took off the cap and now she recognized him.

“You were expecting me,” Hess said. “Were you not?”

Joyce was so afraid she couldn’t talk, couldn’t get a word out.

Hess smiled at her. “You were on the last truck that day in the woods, a teenager with fair skin and red hair. How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“That is a good age. I remember when I was eighteen,” Hess said, smiling, sounding sentimental. “Were you in school?”

“I had just graduated from the gymnasium.”

“Were you planning to attend the university?”

“Jews weren’t allowed.” Who was this lunatic? Came to kill her and he was making small talk. But she tried to keep the conversation going.

“That’s right,” the Nazi said. “I enrolled in the Technische Hochschule.”

“You must be very smart.”

He brought his hands up in slight embarrassment, the right holding the gun. “You know, I didn’t do too bad.” He paused. “Do you miss Munich, Bavaria?”

Harry heard voices, picked up the Colt, went out to the hall, moving toward Joyce’s room. Stood next to her door and listened, tried the handle, it was locked. He went back to his room, moved out to the balcony, crouched low, going toward the master suite. Looking in the windows but couldn’t see anything, the shades were pulled. Harry squatted in front of the French doors. The drapes were closed but not all the way. He could see a narrow slice of the room: the rug, part of the bed and armoire. Now he saw a khaki leg, yellow shirt, the edge of a face in profile.

Hess moved out of view and came back, arm extended. Harry couldn’t see what he was holding, but knew what it was, imagined Joyce in bed, scared to death. Hess was about thirty feet away, the same distance as the paper targets he practiced on at the shooting range. But the paper targets were lit up and straight on and nobody’s life was at stake if he missed.

Cordell followed the rent-a-cop, saw him open the door, go in the house. What was up? They got more trouble with the alarm? Then it occurred to him, something wasn’t right about him ’cause it wasn’t him. This dude was wearin’ khakis. Other one had on blue uniform pants.

He stepped in the kitchen, pulled a serrated knife with a long blade out of the holder on the counter, slid it in his belt and went up to where the bedrooms were at, movin’ slow with his bad leg. Walked down the hall. Didn’t see the Nazi but had to believe he was up here. Pulled the blade, went into a room, door to the balcony open. Saw Harry squattin’, lookin’ in the next room like a peepin’ Tom. “Yo, Harry-” he whispered.

Harry squeezed the trigger twice, glass exploding, pushed the French doors open, and went in the room, aiming the Colt. Hess was gone, Joyce was sitting with her back against the headboard, afraid, but alive. “You all right?”

She was staring at the gun in his hand. “I think so, Harry. But don’t do anything, please! Let him go. We’ll call the police.”