Jessicaleveled her weapon. 'Don't do it, Michael.'

    'Zig,zig, zag.'

    EverythingJessica had seen in Drummond's face, everything that told her he might be readyto give all this up, was gone. What stood before her now was a feral,calculating killer.

    'Lether go.'

    Drummondheld Lucy even more tightly. Jessica saw the young woman's legs start to sag.

    'Ihave a little more work to do,' Drummond said.

    'Notgoing to happen.'

    Drummondbrought the razor up in a flash. The gleaming blade was now less than an inchfrom Lucy's throat. 'Watch.'

    'Wait!'

    Drummondglanced at the clock. It was 11:51.

    'There'sno time left,' he said.

    'Justput down the razor. Let her go.'

    Drummondshook his head. 'Can't do it, detective. There's one note left to play.'

    'We'llget you help,' Jessica said. 'It doesn't have to end this way.'

    'Butit does, don't you see? This must be completed.'

    Jessicaglanced again at the grandfather clock in the hallway. 'It's not midnight yet.Let her go.'

    'Lookhow many unfinished symphonies there are. Beethoven, Schubert. I am not goingto leave a legacy like that.'

    Jessicalooked at Lucy. The girl was going into shock. Jessica knew she had to keep theman talking.

    'Whythese people, Michael? Why did you choose them?'

    'Theygot away with murder, Jess. Surely you can understand that. They won't bemissed.'

    'Theyhad families,' Jessica said. 'Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers. It's not up tous.'

    Drummondlaughed. 'We can't do it all, you and I. I've watched it for years. Police dotheir jobs, prosecutors do their jobs. Still people get away with it. Tonightall these people dance with the dead. Eddie Robles, Kenny Beckman, his sow of awife. So many more.'

    'Whatabout George Archer?'

    Drummondsmiled. 'I'm not guilty on that one, your honor. But believe me, it wasn't forlack of effort. I tracked him for years. Ever since I got out of law school.'

    'Who,Michael? Who killed him?'

    'Doyour job, detective. I did mine.'

    Drummondleaned away from Lucy, the razor moving away from her throat momentarily.Jessica sighted down her weapon. She had a shot.

    'Thenwhy Lucy?' Jessica asked. 'She's innocent.'

    'No,she is not.' On the word not, Drummond pulled Lucy closer.Jessica no longer had a line of sight. 'It's because of her that Peggy vanTassel is dead.'

    'Idon't understand.'

    'LittleLucy could have told the police about George Archer. She didn't, and who knowshow many other little girls Archer killed? This little piggy is part of theproblem.'

    Drummondstopped at the doorway to the kitchen. 'That's far enough, detective. Put yourweapon down.'

    Jessicadid not move. 11:54.

    'Doit now.'

    'Okay,Michael,' she said. She lowered her Glock to the floor. 'It's down.'

    Jessicaglanced to her left. Through the doorway she could see the bare feet androlled-up trousers of a body on the floor, a few drops of blood on the tile.She also saw the knife on the counter. It was the precise scene from that nighttwenty years earlier, a re-creation of the murder of Gabriel Thorne. Exceptthat there was a new twist. There was a band of white paper and a red candle onthe counter.

    Jessicalooked again at the kitchen floor.

    Isthis David Albrecht's body?

    Thehorrors were piling up.

    'Look,'Jessica began. 'Dr. Thorne is already dead.' She pointed to the kitchen.

    Drummondglanced into the kitchen, at the body on the floor. He looked back at Jessica.His mind was gone, lost in some kind of vortex between the night of Thome'smurder and now.

    'Itreally is then?' he asked.

    'Yes.'

    Drummondbegan to nod rapidly. 'He was going to take her away, see,' he said. 'For good.That's why he had to die.'

    'Iunderstand.'

    Drummondturned slowly toward the stereo cabinet behind him, touched the playbutton.

    Christa-Marieseemed to return to the moment. She began to play a new piece, plucking one ofthe strings - the same note, twelve times.

    'Whatis Danse Macabre without the chorus?' Drummond asked. He turned up thesound.

    Amoment later, beneath the resonance of Christa-Marie's cello, was a mix ofsounds - street sounds, sirens. Beneath it all a chorus began to sing:

Zig, zig, zig, Death in cadence,

Striking a tomb with his heel,

Death at midnight plays a dance-tune,Zig, zig, zag, on his violin.

    But somehowthe loudest part of this new background was the sound of a baby cooing.

    'Thedead own the world tonight,' he said. 'Listen to them. I've been collectingtheir voices for years.' 11:56.

    Thevoices began to grow in volume. Screams, shrieks of terror, death wails.

    'Look,'Jessica said. She circled to her left. She had to get into the kitchen. 'My gunis down, Michael. I can't hurt you. The doctor is dead. Let the girl go. We'lltalk.'

    'It'snot about me. It's never been about me.' Drummond began to sweat. He waved therazor around, bringing it perilously close to Lucy's face. The chorus ofscreams grew in the background. Christa-Marie's playing increased in volume.

The lady, it's said, is amarchioness or baroness

And her green gallant, a poorcartwright.

Horror! Look how she gives herselfto him,

Like the rustic was a baron.

    'Shegave herself to him,' Drummond said, pointing at the body on the floor. 'Shedoesn't have long, you see. It had to be done.'

    'Whodoesn't have long?'

    'Teacher.She's dying. That's why I had to write faster.'

    Drummondtook one step backward, into the kitchen, dragging Lucy with him. 'Listen tothem all,' he said. 'Can you hear?'

    'Ihear, Michael.' 11:58.

    Jessicamoved forward.

    'Whatabout Gabriel Thorne?' she asked, gesturing to the body on the kitchen floor.'Christa-Marie didn't kill him, did she? It was you, wasn't it? You and JosephNovak?'

    'Thornewas in love with her. He manipulated her.' Drummond shook his head, his eyesfilling with tears. 'Joseph was weak. He was always weak.'

    'Butyou let Christa-Marie take the fall.'

    Tearsran down his cheeks. 'I've had to live with that for twenty years.'

    Drummondbacked to the center of the kitchen as Danse Macabre neared its finalglorious section.

    Fromsomewhere beneath the cacophony came a man's voice: 'Michael.'

    Inside,where the music lives, in that gilded hall, i watch and wait. Teacherknows what I must do.

    Thereis one note left to play.

    Onefinal note.

    Atthe sound of the man's voice everything slowed. Drummond held Lucy even moreclosely. Slowly, he lifted the straight razor to his own forehead and drew itswiftly across. Bright crimson blood washed his face, spilling onto Lucy.

    Again,from somewhere: 'Michael.'

    Drummondhesitated for a moment, his head cocked to the sound. 'Dr. Thorne?'

    Onemore note.

    Onemore voice.

    Drummondlooked at Christa-Marie, playing furiously in the music room.

They push forward, they fly; the cockhas crowed.

Oh what a beautiful night for thepoor world!