The Sisters — Complete by Georg Ebers (reading diary txt) 📕

block by the cooker with a collection of Sabatier knives. That would have to do. In my mind was also the fact that there was a man outside, and the second killer in my room would be on his way. I was short of time.

I was short of everything.

I made to return to the living room, armed with a large knife, and saw Antonio in the doorway covering me with a Desert Eagle.

“Whatcha planning to do with the knife, cop? I hope you wasn’t planning to hurt anybody with it.”

“No,” I said. “I thought I’d peel some onions for the Bolognese sauce.”

He edged around and flicked his gun toward the living room. “Come on, wise guy. Drop the blade and move.”

Pro watched me come in with real disappointment on his face. He looked disgusted. “You know? I really trusted you, Stone. I thought we had understood each other.”

I glanced down at Maria and her husband. They were watching me impassively. His right cheek was inflamed, and his eyes were watering. Maria said, “What the hell are you doing here?” I ignored her and eyed Pro.

“I don’t know why, Pro. I told you from the start that I don’t work for you.”

He gestured to a chair. “Sit down and shut up. You are a real disappointment to me.”

I moved to the chair and sat. “You’re making a mistake with these people. Maria Garcia is dead. So are Mick and Sam. There is nobody left but you.”

I sensed Maria and her husband glance at each other. Pro stared at me, and there was real rage in his eyes. He made several “W” sounds, like his own incredulity would not allow him to finish the words. Then he blurted, “What is it with you people? You look at me and you see a fuckin’ moron? What? What am I? What do I look like?”

I knew he was going to launch into one of his Hollywood wise-guy acts, so I cut him short.

“Yes, Pro. I look at you and I see a fucking moron.” He and Antonio both looked astonished, but I didn’t give a damn and I plowed on. “We found the Mustang in Texas, in the Palo Duro Canyon. There were two skeletons in it. They have both been identified from dental records as belonging to Maria Garcia and Mick Harragan.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Yes! And the money he stole from you went straight into his numbered account in Belize, where it will stay because everybody who knew the details of the account is dead.”

He stared at me hard, narrowing his eyes. “Then what the fuck are you doing here, Stone? Answer me that. Following this chick, trailing her home, getting your fuckin’ hotel room almost in the same fuckin’ street as her clinic. What is your fuckin’ interest in this woman?”

He was practically screaming. I looked at him, letting the contempt I felt for him show on my face. “Keep your hair on, Pro. You’re like a hysterical woman. Mick’s dental records were on the NYPD database. He was a cop, remember? Maria didn’t have medical insurance, so her records had to be tracked down. While they did that, I followed a personal hunch that she might have come to Berkeley. I knew she had an interest in psychology. As it turned out, she never came here. This is Mary Browne. She is from Michigan, not New York.

“This morning I put her to the test in her consulting room, and she passed with flying colors.” I turned to her. “You must have thought I was even crazier than I said I was.”

She met my eye and spoke with no trace of humor. “I knew you were perfectly sane, and I also knew you were lying.”

I looked back at Pro. “Plus, I got notification today from my partner that the dental records match Maria’s. I was being thorough—you were just being stupid.”

“No…”

“Yesˆ Now the way I see it, Pro, you have a simple choice. Go home and act like none of this ever happened, or keep pushing. And if you keep pushing, I am going to make damn sure you go down for Mick and Maria’s murder in Texas. If you recall, they don’t fuck around in Texas. And if you go down for killing a cop in that state, you go down for good.” I raised my hands. “I am going to get my cell to show you the notification. Okay?”

Antonio stepped forward, training his .45 on me. Pro pulled a Sig 9 mm from under his arm and thrust it in my face.

“Do me a favor,” he said, “and try something stupid.”

I spoke in a weary voice, like his stupidity was exhausting me. “You’re a piece of work, Pro. You know that?”

I carefully reached in my pocket and pulled out my cell. I flicked through to my WhatsApp and found Dehan. I didn’t open the conversation. I left that for him to do. I handed him my phone. “That’s my partner. You’ve met her. It’s the last message from her.”

He took the phone and stared at it. He frowned as he clumsily opened the message with a gun in his hand. Very calmly, I reached forward, took hold of the barrel, and levered down hard. I did it so naturally that it took them a full four seconds to realize what was happening. Pro screamed as his fingers were twisted against their joints. He was still holding it with a twisted hand as I directed the barrel at Antonio and pulled the trigger, twice.

Twenty-NINE

The Sig was not silenced, and the shots rang out loud and clear. One tore through his belly. The other exploded into his chest. I didn’t wait for Pro to react. I stood and smashed my elbow into his face, snarling, “Let go, Pro!”

He did