Helen stopped and thought about it for a moment. Then she smiled.
"You know, Leonard? It just might. I mean, that IS one of the big problems with the world: nobody apologizes for anything anymore. They excuse, they justify, but nobody ever just admits a mistake and says they're sorry. And what kind of bitch would I be to turn my nose up at it? Forgiveness is such a rare commodity these days. Hell, I had a conversation with someone about it last night after the warehouse. And Troy has a saying about not punishing efforts to be nice, you know." She looked him up and down in his suit. "And I can think of a few ways you could still show ME how sorry you are, Leonard. Of course, I'm not the only one you'd need to apologize to."
"Ah, yes. Mr. & Mrs. Equals too, of course. Certainly."
"Them, for one." She told him, walking up to the man. "A nice card and a half-dozen donuts would go over well there. They like blueberry cake and the chocolate-covered old-fashioned. You're forgetting Susan again, though. For Susan, I'd say 'just the card.'"
"Untouchable, like Mr. Equals, huh? 'Thought that counts' and all that? Ok. And I'm sure your..." Whyte had to stop himself from making it an insult. "...Eastender would appreciate something for all his trouble, too."
"Five-thousand-dollar gift card for a home improvement store should cover him. Or just five-thousand dollars; whichever's easier. But again, there's still other people you need to apologize to first, Leonard."
Whyte nodded. She leaned in close.
"Of course, Contessa. Who else?"
Contessa Helena de San Finzione reached into the pocket of her jacket and grabbed the balisong knife she'd taken from one of the thugs back in San Finzione. She let out a soft, hot breath on Leonard Whyte's neck before thrusting it up between his ribs and into his heart.
"You need to go apologize..." She whispered to him. "To Raymond Chen."
Whyte let out a noise that was too high-pitched and weak to be called a squeal. Helena stabbed him again.
"And Helmet Guy!"
She pulled out the knife and thrust it into him repeatedly, shouting each word and punctuating them with another thrust, another twist, and another withdrawal.
"AND MORGAN! AND ALL! THE OTHER! PEOPLE! I KNOW! I'M MISSING!!"
With his life flowing down his legs and into his shoes, Leonard Whyte CBE stood helpless as Contessa Helena de San Finzione took a step back, dropped the knife, flattened her right palm, and bent her fingers. She took a step forward and put all her weight behind it as she rammed her palm into Leonard Whyte's chin. The force carried him over the railing, and he managed to let out a scream on the 50-story fall that took him through Seattle airspace and onto the pavement that was technically San Finzione territory below.
Helen picked up the knife and pocketed it as her phone indicated an incoming email.
She opened it and looked. She looked over the railing at the pool of Leonard fifty stories below.
"Hey, Leonard. They're announcing the Auction now! You got your..." She looked over and saw his phone back on the dining room table inside. She went and grabbed it, came back to the railing, and dropped it down to him on the pavement below. "Wouldn't want ya missing it on my account." She checked her own, got the time and location for the next evening, RSVPed, and put her phone away.
As the track changed in the suite, Helen lit another cigarette, reflecting that there was probably a lot of useful shit that could have been gotten off that phone. Then she remembered that it was still on San Finzione soil; and stuff like putting it back together was the sort of thing she had a Ministry of Science for. She walked out of the suite, past the bathwater from the bath they'd never turned off now flowing out into the hall, singing along with the song playing.
"
Well, I went to the doctor. I said 'I'm feelin' kinda rough.' 'Lemme break it to ya, son: Your shit's fucked up
."
She then remembered that she owned the hotel and would ultimately be the one paying for the water damage, went back, and turned off the bathtub. She picked up the tune from there and walked out again.
* * *
Helen learned from Whyte's interpreter that he really had been a prisoner and told her everything he knew. She replaced his memories, so that Whyte had just turned out to be a huge jerk who'd had him doing boring STRANGERS work and had paid him in full. He wouldn't remember why he'd be so pleased, but when he heard the dirt bag had offed himself the next day, he may have made a tiny fist-pump.
Talking to the Seattle PD after someone had jumped out of her hotel was unavoidable. And preferable to another war between San Finzione and the City of Seattle over whether or not enough bits of Leonard Whyte CBE had landed outside San Finzione territory to warrant a murder investigation on various patches of the street and sidewalk. Alternately, La Contessa could answer a couple of questions, they could tick the "suicide" boxes on the forms and everyone could go home. Helen agreed to that one.
No, she didn't know this man, or even that he'd been staying at her hotel. Just ignore the blood on her clothes, that time of the month, you know. Best to leave it out of the reports and forget about it. Lenny Something? She'd been relaxing with some friends after a long day out on the town, up in her own suite; and no, the police couldn't go up there and speak to any of her guests, they all have diplomatic immunity as well and won't talk to them; but this man certainly wasn't there. Wait, Leonard Whyte? The phone guy? She'd heard something bad happened to him earlier, but she'd been out shopping with her girlfriends all day, and then gone out to the clubs. Really? His phone landed ON TOP of his body, so it must have gone over the side AFTER? Huh! Well, it was one of his models, right? She wouldn't know anything about that; La Contessa was an admitted "Apple Whore." Oh yeah, I DO remember you from outside the phone store, Lieutenant. How's your new iPhone working out? And yes, if anyone needed to verify her whereabouts for the day, they could just turn on the news and get the story from any of the thirty reporters who'd been covering her every move. They'd said they were ok with that and left.
Bluey and Mander were continuing to talk and drink. Helen silently chided herself for never even thinking to ask if Mander knew sign language. The Ultimados were taking care of the bodies, they'd have them disposed of before the repair crews arrived in a few hours.
With everything taken care of here, Contessa Helena de San Finzione told Mander where she'd be, called for the elevator, and went to the parking garage. Scappa pulled up in a beat-up 1978 station wagon. She opened the door and got into the middle of the back seat.
"Take me home." She told him, lighting a cigarette. He looked confused. "The local one."
The driver nodded and left the hotel. He got on I-5, and headed south, toward the SeaTac Mall Exit, to Federal Way.
He pulled onto the street where the Equals House and the Green House were located, and pulled into the Equals' driveway, knowing that theirs would be the one that La Contessa would call "home."
* * *
Troy and Julie Equals and Susan Bailey were asleep on the Equals' bed. They'd waited up as long as they could for Helen before retreating to the bedroom and calling it a night. The three of them were naked, in the position which they often tended to fall asleep together: Julie in Troy's arms, and Susan spooning up to him with her arm draped over him, so she and Julie could touch and hold hands as easily as she and Troy could.
A little green light flashed on Troy's nightstand. It wasn't bright enough to wake any of them, it just indicated that the front door had been opened. Since whomever had opened the door then closed and locked it, another indicated that the correct alarm code was entered, the lights changed to let the three unconscious people on the bed know that there was no further disturbance, and then turned off. The fact that none of the three people had stirred to acknowledge the messages was of no consequence to the lights; they'd held up their end of the agreement.
Contessa Helena de San Finzione quietly stepped into the bedroom. A life of crime had taught her how to move silently through a house with sleeping occupants and potential valuables in multiple locations. She'd been putting those skills to good use entering the house thus far, but there was one of the sleeping people whom she'd never been able to really sneak up on, and he sensed her presence and opened his eyes slightly to see her standing at the foot of the bed, looking at the three of them.
Troy gave her a smile that said, without speaking to wake the others up, "Hey, Girl." She gave him a "Hey, Boy" smile back and began undressing. Troy realized that although he, Julie, and Helen had been naked together a good portion of their lives, that Susan wasn't really "that good" with Helen yet, and reached for a blanket to cover her. His movement caused the other two to stir.
Julie saw Helen undressing. She gave her a "Hey. Girl" smile. Helen returned it with a "Hey, Also Girl" one as she began to remove her bra. Julie gave her another that seemed to ask "You get your thing taken care of, and now you need some Troy?" Helen nodded, and Julie broke contact with Troy, making room for her between them.
Susan saw Helen naked. She hadn't bothered replacing the panties she gave to the bartender earlier in the night. She had a moment of concern and started to reach for a blanket as well, but remembered that Helen and Suzy-Q had already seen each other naked. So, between Susan having all of Suzy-Q's memories and experiences and all of the Suzy Crew's exact resemblance to Susan, they'd already seen everything. So, she relaxed and changed it to a "Hey, Girl" look like the others. Helen met it with a "Hey, Other Girl" look, and crawled in-between Troy and Julie.
