Fat Tuesday(133)

He said, "Stuart messed his pants when you shot him, did you know that?

Bardo told me."

"Shut up!" Burke screamed, his voice cracking.

"He said Stuart died stinking to high heaven."

"I'm warning you, Duvall."

"Bardo said it was disgusting, the way he stank."

"Shut up, shut up," Burke moaned.

"Proud of yourself for making your friend die that way, Basile?"

"Stop! "

"He had a nice wife, too. I saw her at the trial. You made her a widow.

And now you'll get to watch Remy die."

"No!" Burke dropped his pistol and raised his hands to cover his ears.

He slumped against the metal post supporting the shelf of orchids, sobbing.

"I knew you were gutless. Kev Stuart died because " But Duvall stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes rolled toward each other, as though to look at the hole between them. Another appeared an inch above the first. Then he fell backward onto the tile floor.

Basile stood up and walked over to him. Looking into the dead man's open eyes, he said, "Kev Stuart died because I didn't miss. Something you obviously forgot, *."

Remy moved up beside him. He placed both arms around her.

"Flarra's safe."

"Bardo didn't "

"He never got to her."

She went limp with relief. For several long moments, they clung to one another, then he nudged her toward the door."I've got to call."

She glanced down at Duvall only once, then turned away."Thank God he fell for your emotional collapse."

"So you knew I was faking it?"

"Of course. I was a little worried when you dropped your gun."

"I was a little worried about that myself. It was a risk I had to take."

Hand in hand, they walked across the yard and entered the house.

None of the celebrating guests took notice of them. All were dedicated to cramming as much partying as possible into the last few minutes before midnight.

"The only room not open to guests is the study," she said to Burke above the revelry. He motioned for her to lead the way.

She opened the door of the study, but recoiled when she saw the clown lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Burke pulled her back into the foyer."Call nine-one-one. Tell them to get in touch with Littrell."

Mutely she nodded and began pushing her way through the crowd.

Burke entered the study, closing and locking the door so none of the guests would venture in, see the bodies, and cause a panic.

He stepped quickly to the young man in the dark suit and felt for a pulse. He was dead.

Then he crouched down beside the clown. Pain had etched lines into the white greasepaint. The eyes, heavily exaggerated by makeup, were closed and still. The large red smile was smeared and looked grotesque.

Burke wasn't at first sure if he were still alive, but then his eyes fluttered open. His lips moved, and he spoke in a thready voice.

"Basile?"

Burke exhaled slowly."Hey, Doug."

"I'm bleeding out, aren't I?"

Burke glanced down at Pat's hand. The white glove was saturated with blood. It also had soaked the baggy costume and had formed a red ocean around him."I'm afraid so."

"Duvall," he said in a thready voice."But at least I took the other one out."

The pistol with which he'd shot Duvall's man was still in his inert hand. Basile didn't disturb it. This was a crime scene."I got Duvall," Burke told him.

Pat closed his eyes."Good. Call ... call ... for help."

Burke stood up and moved toward the door, but when he reached it, he didn't open it to summon help. For several moments, his hand tightly gripped the doorknob, then decisively he released it and returned to Pat, hunkering down nearer him.

"Help me, Burke."

Gently, Burke removed the red bulbous nose and peeled the fiery red wig from Pat's head."Can't do it, Doug."

Doug's fluttering eyes found his. As he stared into Burke's calm face, his shallow breathing whistled through his lips."You know."

"That you were the mole in our division? Yes."

"How long?"

"Since the day you murdered Mac. And it was murder, Doug. Mac didn't come looking for me to turn me over to Duvall, as you said. He came to tell me that there was a better, cleaner way to get to Duvall if only I exercised a little patience.

"I played a hunch this morning, and it turned out to be right. I spoke with Littrell and then to the attorney general. It seems that soon after the A.G. took office he assembled a special team to investigate police corruption.

"Mac was part of it. He went through the police academy, worked his way up through the ropes, but all in preparation of infiltrating Narcotics and Vice and sniffing out the traitor. You, Doug. Mac was close to nailing you. You must have sensed the heat and shot him before he could share his suspicions with me.

"He might have been going for his gun in that fishing shack, but it wasn't to kill me. He only wanted to bring me in and, with the A.G."s sanction, give me the skinny. He also wanted to sit me down and break it to me gently that the man I considered my friend was in fact a cop as dirty as they come.

"You know what the worst of it is, Doug? What I hate the worst? Is that you laid your own crimes on Mac." Burke thrust his face close to the dying man's."Why, Doug? Why Duvall, for chrissake? Why? For the money?"