The Vision Read Free

through a four-way stop, then toward another.
    “Listening ... listening between steps ... cautious... nervous... taking the knife out of his overcoat pocket... smiling at the sharp edge of the blade... such a big knife...”
    In the block she had specified they fishtailed to a stop at the curb in front of the third house on the right: a pair of matched magnolias, a winding walk, a two-story stucco with lights on downstairs.
    “Goddamn,” Goldman said, more reverently than not. “It fits her description perfectly.”

2
    BARNES GOT OUT of the car as the siren moaned into silence.
    The revolving red emergency lights cast frenetic shadows on the wet pavement. Another black-and-white had pulled in behind the first, adding its beacons to the cascade of bloody color.
    Several men had already climbed out of the second car. Two uniformed officers, Malone and Gonzales, hurried toward Barnes. Mayor Henderson, round and shiny in his black vinyl rain slicker, looked like a balloon bouncing along the street. Close behind him was whip-thin little Harry Oberlander, Henderson’s most vocal critic on the city council.
    The last man was Alan Tanner, Mary Tanner Bergen’s brother. Ordinarily, he would have been in the first car with his sister ; but he and Max had argued earlier and were keeping away from each other.
    “Malone, Gonzales... split up,” Barnes said. “Flank the house. Go around it and meet at the rear door. I’ll take the front. Now move it!”
    “What about me?” Goldman asked.
    Barnes sighed. “You better stay here.”
    Goldman was relieved.
    Taking the .357 Magnum from his holster, Barnes hurried up the tile walk. The name “Harrington” was printed on the mailbox. As he rang the doorbell, the rain suddenly lost most of its power. The downpour became a drizzle.
    Alerted by the sirens, she had watched his approach from the window. She answered the door at once.
    “Mrs. Harrington?”
    “Miss Harrington. After the divorce, I took my maiden name.”
    She was a petite blonde in her early forties. She had a lush figure, but she wasn’t carrying any excess weight.
    Apparently, her primary occupation was taking good care of herself. Although she wore jeans and a T-shirt and didn’t appear to be going out for the evening, her hair looked as if it had been styled minutes ago ; her false eyelashes and makeup were perfectly applied ; and her nails were freshly painted the color of orange sherbet.
    “Are you alone?” Barnes asked.
    Lasciviously, she said, “Why do you ask?”
    “This is police business, Miss Harrington.”
    “What a shame.” She had a drink in one hand. He knew it wasn’t her first of the night.
    “Are you alone?” he asked again.
    “I live by myself.”
    “Is everything all right?”
    “I don’t like living by myself.”
    “That’s not what I meant. Are you all right? Is there any trouble here?”
    She looked at the revolver that he held at his side. “Should there be?”
    Exasperated with her and with having to talk above the loud swing music that boomed behind her, he said, “Maybe. We think your life’s in danger. ”
    She laughed.
    “I know it sounds melodramatic, but—”
    “Who’s after me?”
    “The newspapers call him ‘The Slasher.’”
    She frowned, then instantly dropped the expression as if she had remembered that frowning caused wrinkles. “You’re kidding.”
    “We have reason to believe you’re his target tonight.”
    “What reason?”
    “A clairvoyant.”
    “A what?”
    Malone entered the living room behind her and switched off the stereo.
    She turned, surprised.
    Malone said, “We found something, Chief.”
    Barnes stepped into the house, uninvited. “Yeah?”
    “The back door was open.”
    “Did you leave it open?” Barnes asked the woman.
    “On a night like this?”
    “Was it locked?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “There’s blood on the door frame,” Malone said. “More of it on the door between the laundry room and the kitchen.”
    “But