Four Kinds of Rain by Robert Ward Page A

haven’t said that a thousand times? See, that’s what he wants me to do, engage him in talk, you know? Start yammering about how he’ll never get it, how I’ve got guards all over my office, my house, what kind of locks I’ve got on the safe, and he’ll never be able to break in. That kind of thing.”
    Bob nodded his head, but something Bardan said struck him in the strangest way. Had Emile just accidentally told him where he kept the mask? Hadn’t he said that his office was in his house?
    “You see, Doc,” Emile went on. “Colin is a monster. I have these dreams about him now.”
    “Tell me about them,” Bob said.
    Emile shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed heavily.
    “Okay … I dream that I’m in bed just about to fall asleep. The door opens and Edwards is coming toward the bed. I mean, I can’t see him, but I know it’s him and he’s all wet, covered with mud and seaweed, and he’s coming right toward me … and in his hand is this knife. This huge steak knife and it’s all wet, too. And he gets near me, and I’m sure, absolutely sure, he’s going to plunge the knife into my back. But he doesn’t. He has this box, and instead he opens it and leaves it next to the bed. And then he’s gone.”
    Emile Bardan started to cry. Bob pointed to the box of Kleenex on the table next to him. Emile plucked one out of the box and blew his nose.
    “I look down at this box and I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to open it, you know? But I can’t not open it. So I reach down and there’s this little clasp, and I pull it open and look inside, and there it is. It’s there, inside.”
    “What is?” Bob said, gently.
    “It’s a head. A human head, all wet and drenched with leaves and mud, and I pull it out by the hair and look at it and it’s him, my old friend, Larry Stapleton. His eyes are gone. They’ve been eaten by maggots and his nose is half eaten away and his lips are black, his teeth knocked out. It’s horrible.”
    Emile shook and cried bitterly.
    “I put the head back in the box and then I wake up.”
    “Very powerful,” Bob said. “What does it suggest to you?”
    Emile shook his head and wiped the tears from his cheek.
    “Well, it’s not all that subtle, Doc,” he said. “Once you know the truth, you’ll see that. Larry Stapleton and I were very close friends. Larry was a Brit and was from a very wealthy family. Colin knew him, as well … it’s a very small world … and he wanted Larry to invest in his business. In fact, he took Larry to his country house for the weekend to talk him into it. I know all this from friends of Larry who were up there with them. They went hunting, drank champagne, and had it on with some of the local girls … and then Colin got down to business and asked Larry to invest in his company. Larry declined and then he dropped the big bomb. He told Colin he intended to back me in my business instead. Colin went crazy. They had a terrible row. Then they made up … at least Larry thought they had … and they went out on the river for a row. No one knows what happened exactly, but somehow the boat capsized and my friend Larry Stapleton drowned that afternoon. Killed by Colin Edwards, I’d stake my life on it.”
    “Did the police investigate?” Bob said.
    “Sure, but there were no witnesses to the actual drowning. In the end it was marked down as an ‘accidental death by drowning,’ but I knew, hell, everyone knew, what had really happened. Edwards was always impulsive, had a terrible temper. He still does, and if you cross him he’d just as soon get rid of you. So now you understand my dream, right?”
    Bob shifted in his seat. The story had taken a turn he wasn’t at all prepared for.
    “You see,” Emile Bardan said, dabbing the tears off his cheeks once again, “I’m not only afraid he’s going to take the mask, but that he’s going to kill me when he does.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
    Emile shrugged and shook