“For exactly one more minute. Then we are going to smile-it’s very pleasant, the gallery, yes? — and people will say, ‘You see, not so serious. They must have been talking about the art.’ You think you know something? Where is your proof? Friedrich? I was always very careful with Friedrich. When they put him at the ranch, I thought it was a trap-I wouldn’t even look at him. And he thought I had arranged it, so clever. But you know, there is luck in America. Not like Germany. Everything is lucky here. They thought he’d feel at home speaking German. But we never did. All that time, we were too afraid to talk. We couldn’t believe our luck, you see. But afterward, that was more difficult. So I had to be careful. No paper. No strings. Nothing. Nothing to connect us at all. Now what do you want to do? Arrest me? With your gun? Over nothing at all? I don’t think so. Who would believe such a thing?”
“Do you really think you’re just going to walk out of here?”
“No. I have to say goodbye to some people first,” she said coolly, “but then-It’s getting late. You can follow me, of course. But what will you find? Friedrich’s gone. So there is no Corporal Waters. Then my work-well, that’s over. You see, I don’t even have to be careful anymore. Unless you have something else to tell me?”
Then, smoothly, she began to turn away, and Connolly, in an instant of panic, looked around the room-Emma still lurking by the doorway, the kitschy art, people laughing outside-and felt everything slip away. Without thinking, he grabbed her arm, jerking her back toward him.
“It’s not about Eisler. It’s about Karl. You’re not listening. I don’t have to prove a thing about your ‘work.’ I’m arresting you for murder.”
“Let me go.”
“That wasn’t careful, killing Karl.”
“Let me go,” she said, pulling her arm away, but Connolly held it. “What do you think you’re doing? On whose authority? Whose authority?” Her voice, louder now in the empty room, caused a few people out on the patio to look up.
“The police are outside. On their authority. You can say your goodbyes later.”
Her face, gone white, now twisted itself in a cold rage. “Take your hands off me,” she said, so self-possessed that Connolly obeyed the order and dropped her arm. “Madman. I never killed anybody.”
“Yes, you did. Technically, you might get away with being an accessory,” he said. “I don’t think so. Either way, you’ll be gone for years and years. I’ll see to it.”
“You,” she said, almost spitting the word.
“What’s the problem?” A deep voice: Hector, looming next to them.
“Come,” Hannah said, another order.
Connolly looked up at him, feeling suddenly dwarfed. Black eyes. “Hannah says you killed Karl all by yourself,” he said, improvising. Again the question mark. No one had known Karl’s name. “The man in the alley at San Isidro. You shouldn’t have done that, Hector.”
Hector glanced at her, then stared at Connolly, stunned. He seemed to lean back, as if he had been struck.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy,” Hannah said.
“All by yourself. We thought she helped, but she said no, you did everything.”
Hector’s confusion made him jumpy. Connolly could see the tension creep into the broad, impassive face, the eyes as alert as an animal’s.
“You should have thrown away those boots,” Connolly said, pointing at his feet. “We matched the prints.” A lie, but would Hector know? “Just like a fingerprint. All over the bushes. When you pulled his pants down.”
Now the eyes, no longer confused, took on a shine of menace.
“Come,” Hannah said. “Foolishness.”
“You weren’t trying to kill him. I know. Just knock him out, the way you do.” As he said it, another blackboard leap. Someone else looking up at the tall, glowering man, black eyes flashing. “Like Batchelor. The soldier at the PX. You weren’t trying to kill him. Just teach him a lesson, right?”
“Shut up,” Hector said, his voice a low rumble.
“You didn’t kill him, just roughed him up a little. I can’t blame you. So why’d you kill Karl? We thought she told you to.” He nodded his head toward Hannah. “But she says she wasn’t there.”
Hector turned and looked at her, obviously surprised.
“Don’t say anything,” she said coldly.
“We know you killed him,” Connolly said quickly. “We didn’t know you did it alone. See, the way we saw it, you knocked him out-he’s just out. Messed up. But she said you had to kill him, you had to finish it. Did you even know who he was? Did she tell you? Eisler said you didn’t know.”
“Shut up,” Hector said again, louder now.
“It was smart making it look like the murder in Albuquerque. To tell you the truth, we thought that was her idea too.”
“Hector, come,” she said, a pet command, and took his arm to lead him away.
Connolly glanced from one to the other, feeling he had to do something, say anything to hold him.
“But that was you. See, I didn’t put two and two together until you beat up the guy at the PX. I didn’t realize you were queer too.”
