Future Crimes Part 16

"He demanded too much," Shalimar said sharply.

"I'm sure he did." Gil answered unhappily.

"He expected one hundred percent from everybody. But the fact remains, the third reason my father is dead is that Shalimar did not throw him the lifeline he was looking for. So he came back from the Andamans and doped himself to the gills."

Milo began to squirm.

"Yes, Milo, you're last. I think I know what happened on the yawt. You just froze, didn't you? You saw a man drowning, but you couldn't move--you were paralyzed." Milo was nodding wordlessly.

"You didn't mean to let him drown. You just didn't know what to do.

The last reason my father is dead is that Milo is the kind of man he is."

There was a long silence. Eventually Kimmel cleared his throat.

"You've overlooked the main reason your father is dead. He himself contributed. He let these things defeat him because he was the kind of man he was. If we were responsible for his death, so was he."

Gil threw up his hands in frustration.

"But his death could have been prevented! If any one of you had acted differently, he'd still be alive. If Kimmel had left Ferrence alone, or Phoebe had waited one more week before leaving ... if Shalimar had taken a leave of absence from her duties or if Milo had conquered his fear of water ... if any one thing had happened differently--ah, if, if, if! But no, you all did what you did, and my father is dead because of it. Maybe he should have handled his setbacks better--I know he was flawed. He was just a man. But he deserved better from all of you. He deserved better."

No one seemed inclined to argue the point, or to concede it, either.

They were all feeling the strain of the past couple of hours; they'd gone as far as they could go. Shalimar stood up, brisk and all business.

"When does the next funicular get here?"

LaB oz looked at his wrist.

"Ten minutes." Without another word, Shalimar turned and started out.

"Wait--I'm coming, too," Milo hurried after her.

Phoebe got to her feet slowly.

"What an incredible evening. All this .. . just to say Shame on you?

Goodbye.

Gil. Let's not meet again."

She was gone.

Gil's pinched face did a poor job of hiding his feelings.

LaB oz dropped a friendly hand on his shoulder:

Hang in there. Gil looked at Kimmel.

"I suppose you stayed to tell me what a fool I've been."

"No. I stayed to tell you why your father wanted Ferrence Transportation so badly." The man looked troubled.

"He wanted it for you. My spies told me he wanted to make you independent of him, and for his own reasons he'd decided Ferrence was the best way to make it happen. The minute I heard that, I knew I had to get Ferrence away from him." Kimmel rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"It never occurred to me he'd go to pieces. It was just another move in the game as far as I was concerned."

Gil was surprised but recovered quickly.

"That time it wasn't a game."

"I realize that now. He didn't crack up overnight, not him--it must have been building for a long time.

But Ferrence was the trigger." He broke off, thinking.

"You want to know something? Nothing has been as much fun since your father died. He was a rotten, underhanded son of a b.i.t.c.h--and I miss him. Maybe I should have left Ferrence alone. You were right about one thing. He deserved better."

Gil swallowed.

"Well."

Kimmel made up his mind to something, stood up.

"Gil, come see me. We can talk. We'll talk about Ferrence.

I could never be partners with your father, but .. . don't get me wrong, I still think my picture of him is more accurate than yours. Yet maybe there's a chance you can still be your own man after all." He paused.

"It's time we both laid his ghost to rest. I'm not promising anything, but it won't hurt to talk."

Kimmel nodded to both young men and turned to go.

"Come tomorrow," he growled back over his shoulder, and left.

Gil and LaB oz took their drinks out onto the balcony.

They leaned against the railing and looked down at the lights on the river that ran past the base of the hill. The funicular had come and gone, carrying the four murderers back to their own lives.

"Kimmel!" Gil said in bemus.e.m.e.nt.

"What an unpredictable man. No wonder my father was afraid of him."

"He's crafty," LaB oz said lazily.

"I hope you're taking fifteen lawyers with you tomorrow." LaB oz loved Gil's place; looking down from the hilltop on the world below always made him want to write something.

"Did you notice how they all revealed something essential about themselves when they were acting out their scenes?" Gil asked.

"Shalimar's authority and self-possession. Milo's ultimate uselessness. Kimmel's flexibility and his determination. Phoebe's ..

. Phoebe's immovable ness

"The play's still the thing," LaB oz murmured.

"They say."

"At least I got through to one of them. Not the one I expected, but one anyway."

"Oh? Which one did you think?"

"Phoebe. I thought that now, after he's been dead a year - . well.

There was never any chance of reaching Milo, and Shalimar was an unknown quant.i.ty. But Kimmel--I never thought he'd be the one to listen."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Then LaB oz asked, "Is it safe to say The rest is silence now?"

Gil smiled.

"I think so. Yes, it is."