Double Take
Page 119
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Dix heard voices from the street, recognized Savich and Ruth.
“Give it up, Pallack,” he said again. He raised his gun and began walking toward Pallack.
Pallack slowly turned to face him. He didn’t look at all worried. He still held his gun at his side. He smiled. “You had a beautiful wife, Sheriff, but in the end, she wouldn’t have me.” He laughed. “She told me about you, about her sons, on and on trying to convince me to let her go, until—I’ve got to admit it—I lost it.” He shrugged. “She was blind to what I could give her.”
Dix’s finger was trembling on the Beretta trigger. It would be so easy, he knew, the slightest squeeze, the small buck of recoil, and it would be over.
“You insane old man—you killed my wife because she looked like your damned mother. She was just a face, nothing more to you.”
“I told you, it was an accident.”
Dix knew he didn’t have much time before cops poured out the roof door. If he was going to kill Pallack, he would have to do it now. He leveled his Beretta at Pallack’s chest. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to find her? Can you even begin to imagine how much I hate you?”
“So? A sheriff is going to shoot me in cold blood?”
“If I shoot you, Pallack, it will be an execution.” His finger tightened on the trigger. In that moment Dix felt something warm and soothing touch him. He knew it was something outside himself, but it didn’t matter, it gave him balance and understanding, and it gave him hope. His breath slowed. He lowered his Beretta. “No, I don’t want your blood on my hands. Drop the gun, Pallack, now, or I’ll have to shoot you.”
Pallack laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me, Sheriff.”
“The sheriff won’t need to, Thomas.”
Dix whirled around to see Charlotte standing just inside the roof door behind him, her nightshirt blowing around her legs. In her hand she held Dix’s two-shot derringer. “There are two bullets in my gun, Thomas.”
“Shoot him, Charlotte! It’ll be self-defense. He’s insane with grief, came here because he believed I killed his wife—”
“Shut up, Thomas. But you can put your gun down, Sheriff, won’t you? As I said, my little gun has two bullets. They’re for you, Thomas.”
“No, Charlotte, don’t—”
She spoke right over him—”You vile old man, you had David killed. You had my brother killed.”
“I had no choice, do you hear me? He called me, hysterical, yelling that the FBI had come to see him, asking him all their questions about Christie, and he wanted money or he’d tell them everything. I had no choice, dammit, it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t let him live.”
Charlotte pulled the trigger.
Pallack’s gun went flying as he grabbed his shoulder and staggered back. For several seconds, Dix thought he was going over the roof guard, but Pallack managed to jerk sideways and fall to his knees. Dix saw blood flowing through his fingers from the shoulder wound.
Pallack raised pain-glazed eyes to his wife. “You bitch! You’re nothing without me, nothing!”
She fired again, but she missed.
Dix heard Charlotte crying as he leaped at Pallack. He slammed his fist into his jaw, felt it break. Dix hit him again, knocking him down on his back, and straddled him, grabbing his shirt collar. He brought his head up and slammed it down on the rough stone roof. “You murdered my wife! What kind of insane monster are you?”
He hit him again even though Pallack was nearly unconscious, and moaning, and then Dix lowered his own head, and started to cry.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “He’s unconscious, Dix. You can stop now.”
A woman’s voice. He turned to look up into Ruth’s face. “He killed Christie.”
“Yes, I know.”
Dix looked over to see Sherlock cuffing Charlotte Pallack’s hands behind her.
The roof filled with people. He heard Savich’s voice, heard Cheney speaking to Frank Paulette on his cell. And Julia was there, telling a uniformed police officer that Xavier Makepeace was dead, in the study, and that he was the one who’d been trying to kill her.
Dix said to Savich, “Pallack had David Caldicott killed. Charlotte didn’t know about that.” He hated to say it because he knew she was an accomplice to everything else Pallack had done, but he added, “Fact is, Charlotte shot Pallack.”
Charlotte said calmly, “By shooting him I saved your life, Dix. If we can make a deal, I’ll tell you all about what Thomas has done. I’ll tell you where Christie Noble is buried.”
“Give it up, Pallack,” he said again. He raised his gun and began walking toward Pallack.
Pallack slowly turned to face him. He didn’t look at all worried. He still held his gun at his side. He smiled. “You had a beautiful wife, Sheriff, but in the end, she wouldn’t have me.” He laughed. “She told me about you, about her sons, on and on trying to convince me to let her go, until—I’ve got to admit it—I lost it.” He shrugged. “She was blind to what I could give her.”
Dix’s finger was trembling on the Beretta trigger. It would be so easy, he knew, the slightest squeeze, the small buck of recoil, and it would be over.
“You insane old man—you killed my wife because she looked like your damned mother. She was just a face, nothing more to you.”
“I told you, it was an accident.”
Dix knew he didn’t have much time before cops poured out the roof door. If he was going to kill Pallack, he would have to do it now. He leveled his Beretta at Pallack’s chest. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to find her? Can you even begin to imagine how much I hate you?”
“So? A sheriff is going to shoot me in cold blood?”
“If I shoot you, Pallack, it will be an execution.” His finger tightened on the trigger. In that moment Dix felt something warm and soothing touch him. He knew it was something outside himself, but it didn’t matter, it gave him balance and understanding, and it gave him hope. His breath slowed. He lowered his Beretta. “No, I don’t want your blood on my hands. Drop the gun, Pallack, now, or I’ll have to shoot you.”
Pallack laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me, Sheriff.”
“The sheriff won’t need to, Thomas.”
Dix whirled around to see Charlotte standing just inside the roof door behind him, her nightshirt blowing around her legs. In her hand she held Dix’s two-shot derringer. “There are two bullets in my gun, Thomas.”
“Shoot him, Charlotte! It’ll be self-defense. He’s insane with grief, came here because he believed I killed his wife—”
“Shut up, Thomas. But you can put your gun down, Sheriff, won’t you? As I said, my little gun has two bullets. They’re for you, Thomas.”
“No, Charlotte, don’t—”
She spoke right over him—”You vile old man, you had David killed. You had my brother killed.”
“I had no choice, do you hear me? He called me, hysterical, yelling that the FBI had come to see him, asking him all their questions about Christie, and he wanted money or he’d tell them everything. I had no choice, dammit, it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t let him live.”
Charlotte pulled the trigger.
Pallack’s gun went flying as he grabbed his shoulder and staggered back. For several seconds, Dix thought he was going over the roof guard, but Pallack managed to jerk sideways and fall to his knees. Dix saw blood flowing through his fingers from the shoulder wound.
Pallack raised pain-glazed eyes to his wife. “You bitch! You’re nothing without me, nothing!”
She fired again, but she missed.
Dix heard Charlotte crying as he leaped at Pallack. He slammed his fist into his jaw, felt it break. Dix hit him again, knocking him down on his back, and straddled him, grabbing his shirt collar. He brought his head up and slammed it down on the rough stone roof. “You murdered my wife! What kind of insane monster are you?”
He hit him again even though Pallack was nearly unconscious, and moaning, and then Dix lowered his own head, and started to cry.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “He’s unconscious, Dix. You can stop now.”
A woman’s voice. He turned to look up into Ruth’s face. “He killed Christie.”
“Yes, I know.”
Dix looked over to see Sherlock cuffing Charlotte Pallack’s hands behind her.
The roof filled with people. He heard Savich’s voice, heard Cheney speaking to Frank Paulette on his cell. And Julia was there, telling a uniformed police officer that Xavier Makepeace was dead, in the study, and that he was the one who’d been trying to kill her.
Dix said to Savich, “Pallack had David Caldicott killed. Charlotte didn’t know about that.” He hated to say it because he knew she was an accomplice to everything else Pallack had done, but he added, “Fact is, Charlotte shot Pallack.”
Charlotte said calmly, “By shooting him I saved your life, Dix. If we can make a deal, I’ll tell you all about what Thomas has done. I’ll tell you where Christie Noble is buried.”
