The Thunder Keeper(73)

“You salted the deposit,” she said.

Roz Baider threw his head back and laughed, then ran a hand under his eyes and dabbed at the moisture. “Funny, isn’t it?” he said. “Company out west scamming an international diamond company. By the time Loesseur’s geologists figure it out, the deal will be closed and I’ll have twenty million dollars in an account in Brazil.”

“Shut up, you damn fool.” Kurt took hold of Baider’s shoulder and pushed him down onto the table. “You’ve got a big mouth.”

Baider pulled himself free and sat back up, rubbing at his shoulder, an aggrieved look in his eyes. “What difference does it make? She’s not going to be around to tell anybody.”

Vicky slid down the sofa, trying to put as much space between herself and the two men as she could. A chill had taken hold of her, as if a cold wind had swept through the house. There were no sounds of any other humans—no cars passing outside, no phone ringing. She was alone with the men.

Keep talking. “You killed Vince Lewis.” She locked eyes with the man in the black raincoat. “Roz gave the order, and you drove the sedan. Vince was going to blow the whistle, wasn’t he? Why? Did the man have a conscience?”

Roz Baider gave a nervous laugh. He was still rubbing his shoulder. “Lewis didn’t like it I was screwing his wife, despite the fact he was screwing half the women on Seventeenth Street. He thought if he ruined me, Jana wouldn’t want me. She wouldn’t divorce him and throw him out of the mansion. He could keep his rich man’s life. The bastard would have blown the whole deal out of the water. Fortunately I overheard him making an appointment with you on the telephone. I knew what he intended to do, and I couldn’t let him do it, now could I?”

“Why did you kill Jana?” Vicky glanced at the man in the raincoat. “She couldn’t have done any harm. She didn’t have any evidence.”

Kurt reared back. “You got it wrong, sweetheart. The lady’s sudden demise wasn’t my doing.” He gestured to Baider, still rubbing at his shoulder.

“An unfortunate accident.” Baider turned his gaze on some point above the sofa. “Jana was a very silly, stupid woman. She asked too many questions, got hysterical over what happened to her husband. Said she didn’t want anything to do with murder. The woman should have been thanking me.” He shrugged. “You never know about a lush.”

Vicky felt like she was going to be sick. The man perched across from her had beaten Jana Lewis to death. Had he dumped her body? Or had he called in Kurt to mop up after him?

“Enough stalling!” Kurt shot forward, and Vicky felt herself being lifted off the sofa, his fingers digging into her bones, shooting pain through her body.

“You have information we want,” he shouted. “We can make this easy, or we can make it hard. You cooperate, or you’re going to be in more pain than you could ever imagine. Do you understand?”

Vicky tried to wrench herself away, but his grip tightened. The man’s face came close to hers: lips peeled back from clenched teeth. “Who have you talked to beside Ferguson and the scientist at Global Vision? Who else knows about the deposit?”

“Everyone,” she said. The pain pulsating through her body seemed remote and unimportant. All of her energies were concentrated now on staying alive. “Detective Clark. He’s on his way over now.”

“You’re lying.” The sharp, open-palmed blow across her face sent her spinning backward onto the sofa.

“He’s already talked to the sheriff in Lander,” she managed. She could taste the blood in her mouth. “That was the sheriff on the phone wanting more information.”

The house went quiet. Kurt seemed to hold his breath for a long moment. Then: “Check the phone, Roz.”

Roz lifted himself from the coffee table and disappeared into the dining room. Vicky was aware of his footsteps clacking across the wood floor, and something else: the almost imperceptible sound of a door opening. Cool air floated over the room.

Baider was back, his gaze on the receiver in his hand. “She’s right. This says Fremont County Sheriff.”

“Let’s get her out of here.”

Vicky leaned away, but Kurt had hold of her again, lifting her upright. She let her weight go dead, and the man pulled her across the coffee table. She felt the table edge cut into her shinbone.

“Nobody’s going anywhere.” The voice boomed from the entry, and Vicky jerked back onto the sofa. Past Kurt, past Roz, she could see Nathan Baider standing in the archway: He was all in gray: gray overcoat hanging open over a gray suit, thin strands of gray hair combed back from a gray face.