59 

TEDDY STOOD SILENTLY and watched the figure in bed. Baxter’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, and he emitted an occasional snore. Teddy pulled up his handkerchief mask and walked over to the bedside. He pulled on his rubber gloves and slowly opened the bedside drawer, revealing the pistol.

Teddy picked up the weapon, slid back the slide far enough to be sure there was still a round in the chamber, then flicked off the safety and held the gun to Dax’s temple. He didn’t wake up—probably had taken a sleeping pill. He reached out with his free hand and pinched the man’s nostrils shut. Dax sucked in a breath through his mouth and opened his eyes.

“Hello, Dax,” Teddy said. “Remember me? Your wife killed my wife, then you covered it up. Welcome to hell.” Teddy saw recognition in his eyes. He squeezed the trigger.

Dax’s body twitched; blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere—over the adjacent pillow, around the bed, and back toward Teddy. Teddy picked up Dax’s empty hand, put a gloved finger into the blood on the pillow and flicked it onto the hand, then he dropped the pistol onto the floor and let Dax’s hand dangle over it.

Teddy made sure that none of the blood had splattered onto his socks, then he backed away from the bed and took a look around. Everything seemed to be in an order the police would find plausible. He went into the bathroom and rinsed the blood from his face, handkerchief, garbage bag, and gloves, walked back to the rear door, opened it with a clean glove, stepped outside, then shed the garbage bag and stuffed it into his duffel. He pulled off the handkerchief, then checked the doorstep for splatter and, finding none, put the handkerchief into the duffel.

He took a few deep breaths, then slipped his feet into his loafers and walked around the house to where the ladder leaned against it. Carefully, clenching his penlight in his teeth, he climbed up, restored the security box wiring to its original state, then closed it, returned the ladder to its usual place, shed the gloves, and put them into the duffel.

He made his way around the house, found the deer trail, and started up the mountainside. He was approaching the road when he heard a distant rumble growing closer. Two Harleys roared around a bend, and he ducked to the ground to avoid their headlamps. He lay there and suddenly, something struck his leg sharply like a punch. Only then did he hear the rattle and feel the sharp fangs in his left calf.

He made a grab for the snake and caught it a few inches below the head, then he grabbed it with both hands and squeezed with all his might. The animal writhed, and it was very strong; he got his legs around it to hold it still, then increased the pressure on the neck with both hands. Nearly a minute elapsed before the creature went limp.

Teddy got to his feet, hoisted his trouser leg and inspected the wound, then he went into the duffel, removed the spattered handkerchief, and used it to make a tourniquet around his leg, below the knee and not too tight. He knew the venom, if the snake had not struck a vein, would move upward in the tissue just under the skin. He checked his watch: two thirty-five. He had to move fast.

He grabbed the snake and the duffel, got back to the car, tossed the duffel onto the front seat and the snake onto the passenger floor, then started the car and drove away. Twenty minutes later he turned into the Bel-Air employees’ parking lot, put it into its original parking space, and returned the ignition wiring to its original state. He grabbed the duffel and the snake and got out of the car, glancing at his watch. Nearly twenty-five minutes since the snakebite, and the pain and burning were very bad.

He got across the road and trotted up the path along the fence until he came to the place where he had crossed before. He slung the duffel over the fence, but the snake was harder to deal with. It was about five feet long, thick and heavy, several pounds. He grasped it near the rattles, swung it around his head a couple of times and flung it over the fence. It hung up on the top.

With some difficulty, Teddy climbed over the fence, freeing the snake as he went. On the other side he stopped to rest for a moment, then made his way back toward the cottage. On the drive back he had formulated a plan, and now he executed it.

He dropped the dead snake near the pool, next to a chaise, where he had left his robe that afternoon, then he stripped off his clothes, went into the house, through the kitchen, into the laundry room. He emptied his pockets, stripped and stuffed his clothes into the washing machine, along with the garbage bag, gloves, and handkerchief, then turned on the cold water and started it, no soap.

He took his phone and trotted back to the pool area, slipping into his robe, then he called 911. His leg was swelling badly and throbbing, and he noticed that his lips were feeling numb.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

“I’ve been bitten by a large rattlesnake, and I can’t walk on my leg. I need an ambulance and anti-venom immediately.” He gave her his name and the address of the hotel. “I’ll let security at the gate know to let the ambulance in.” He hung up, called the gate on the house phone on the table beside his chaise and gave them instructions. He hobbled to the pool, jumped in and made sure his body and hair were free of blood and debris, then he toweled off and called Sally’s cell phone. She took three rings to answer.

“Yes, Billy?”

“I’m down by the pool,” he said. “I’ve been bitten by a rattlesnake, badly. I’ve called an ambulance, and it’s on its way. Get dressed, and grab some clothes for me. I’m naked.”

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up.

Teddy got into his robe and tied it, then sat down on the chaise, leaned over the side and vomited; he was having some difficulty breathing. His cell phone rang.

“Yes?” he panted.

“Mr. Barnett?”

“Yes.”

“The ambulance was delayed. They had to pick up the anti-venom from a hospital, but they’re about five minutes out now. How’re you doing?”

“Pain, nausea, difficulty breathing,” he said.

“I’ll stay on the line with you.”

“No, my girlfriend is here. You can’t help.” He hung up and checked the time. Fifty-five minutes since the snake struck him.

Sally came running from the house, clutching his clothes, and knelt next to the chair. “Are you all right?” she asked, helping him into his underwear and trousers.

“I’m in considerable pain,” he said.

“You’re panting—are you having trouble breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t talk, just breathe.” She looked at his leg. “Oh, God,” she said, “it’s twice its usual size.”

•   •   •

THREE MINUTES LATER, the ambulance pulled up at the cottage, and Sally shouted for them. Two EMTs ran over with a stretcher.

“Anti-venom?” Teddy asked.

“Got it right here,” the man replied; he was filling a syringe.

“He’s in a lot of pain,” Sally said to him.

“Let’s get him into the wagon,” he said to his partner.

“Bring the snake,” Teddy managed to say. “Sally, follow in your car.” Then he passed out.