Lawrence Block - Keller by Keller the Dogkiller (v1.0)

Author:Keller the Dogkiller (v1.0) [Dogkiller, Keller the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Just as Keller reached to knock on the door, it opened. Evelyn Augenblick, wearing a pants suit and a white blouse and a flowing bow tie, stood there beaming at him. “It’s you,” she said. “Thank God. Quick, so I can shut the door.”

She did so, and turned to him, and he saw something he had somehow failed to notice before. She had a gun in her hand, a short-barreled revolver.

Keller didn’t know what to make of it. She’d seemed relieved to see him, so what was the gun for? To shoot him? Or was she expecting somebody else, against whom she felt the need to defend herself?

And should he take a step toward her and swat the gun out of her hand? That would probably work, but if it didn’t...

“I guess you saw the ad,” she said.

The ad? What ad?

“ ‘Paul Niebauer, Please Get In Touch.’ On the front page of the New York Times, one of those tiny ads at the very bottom of the page. I always wondered if anybody read those ads. But you didn’t, I can see by the look on your face. How did you know to come here?”

How indeed? “I just had a feeling,” he said.

“Well, I’m glad you did. I didn’t know how else to reach you, because I didn’t want to go through the usual channels. And it was important that I see you.”

“The gun,” he said.

She looked at him.

“You’re holding a gun,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, and looked at her hand, as if surprised to discover a gun in it. “That’s for you,” she said, and before he could react she handed the thing to him. He didn’t want it, but neither did he want her to have it. So he took it, noting that it was a .38, and a loaded one at that.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

She didn’t exactly answer. “It belongs to my husband,” she said. “It’s registered. He has a permit to keep it on the premises, and that’s what he does. He keeps it in the drawer of his bedside table. For burglars, he says.”

“I don’t really think it would be useful to me,” he said. “Since it’s registered to your husband, it would lead right back to you, which is the last thing we’d want, and—”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh.”

“This isn’t for Fluffy.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t really care about Fluffy. Killing Fluffy won’t bring Rilke back. And it’s not so bad with Rilke gone, anyway. He was a beautiful dog, but he was really pretty stupid, and it was a pain in the ass having to walk him twice a day.”

“Oh.”

“So the gun has nothing to do with Fluffy,” she explained. “The gun’s for you to use when you kill my husband.”

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