The Ambassador's wife

DeSouza snickered.

“Let’s see your back,” he said.

Tay shifted his feet and without taking his eyes off DeSouza lifted his shirt and twisted his upper body enough for DeSouza to see his back.

DeSouza’s gaze went straight to Tay’s.38.

“Lose the gun,” he said.

“The gun stays where it is. Take the deal or leave it. But the gun stays where it is.”

Tay started to rebutton his shirt.

“Okay,” DeSouza said, “then drop your trousers.”

Tay sighed heavily, but he removed his revolver from its holster and held it loosely in his right hand. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped, and let his trousers drop around his ankles.

“Huh,” DeSouza grunted. “Boxer shorts. I should have fucking guessed.”

“Satisfied?”

DeSouza didn’t say anything, but after a moment he nodded.

Tay pulled his trousers up, returned the.38 to its holster, and put his shirt back on. When he sat down again, he took out another Marlboro and put it between his lips, but he didn’t light it.

There was a half-smile on DeSouza’s face now and Tay knew something had changed. He didn’t know what it was and he couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad, but DeSouza was doing nothing to conceal it. It seemed as if he was looking forward to whatever was coming next.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate you, Tay?”

“You don’t know me well enough to hate me.”

“I know plenty of self-righteous little pricks just like you and I hate the whole fucking bunch of you.”

Tay couldn’t see exactly where this was taking them, but he was willing to let DeSouza talk. As little as he had going for him right then, it certainly couldn’t do any harm.

“Guys like me…” DeSouza tapped himself on the chest with his forefinger, “come midnight, we’re everybody’s fucking daddy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I do what has to be done, pal. I do whatever is needed to protect whatever’s worth protecting. Guys like you don’t have any idea what it means to put everything on the line. You don’t have any idea how it feels to be out on the edge.”

DeSouza stared at Tay as if he expected him to say something, perhaps to register a protest of some sort. But Tay just watched DeSouza without saying anything at all.

“I think you’re pathetic,” DeSouza said.

Tay wished he could argue with DeSouza’s conclusion, but he didn’t know exactly how. In some ways, he even thought DeSouza had him pretty much dead to rights.

“Let me give you some advice, Tay. If you’re considering a second career as a blackmailer, better hang onto your day job. I don’t know if you really did set me up or not, but if you did I owe you one, pal. She was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time. And as far as your pictures go, I’ll take a set of glossies in 8x10s for my memory book. Hell, why don’t you make it two sets? We only live once, huh?”

DeSouza eyed Tay and unveiled a vicious grin.

Tay wondered if that was just a show of bravado on DeSouza’s part. He told himself it probably was, but DeSouza was the very picture of a man who sincerely didn’t give a shit. Actually, since Tay didn’t actually have any pictures, it occurred to Tay that whether DeSouza did or didn’t give a shit was more or less beside the point anyway, wasn’t it?

Tay didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what else he could say. He had rolled the dice and he had crapped out. If he started talking again now, he would probably just sound desperate, which made sense since he was desperate.

“But hey, don’t give up, Tay. Even if you’re a fuckwit, I’m going to make this real easy for you. You listening?”

Tay just looked at DeSouza and said nothing.

“I’m going to tell you who killed Munson and who killed Rooney, and I’m even going to tell you exactly what happened to your girlfriend. Do you know why I’m going to tell you all that?”

“No.”

“You don’t think it has anything to do with your stupid pictures, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, good for you, asshole. At least you’ve got that one right. Your pictures don’t mean a damn thing to me.”

Tay watched as DeSouza’s face grew taut with contempt.

“I’m going to tell you for one reason, Tay. Because it will cut your fucking heart out.”

Tay didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean, but the look in DeSouza’s eyes frightened him. He was on a steamer sailing into the River Styx and there was a madman at the helm.

Abruptly, DeSouza stood up. He poured more whiskey into his glass, then went to the window and stood staring out into the darkness. Tay started to light the Marlboro in his mouth and was surprised to discover he was sick of smoking. His mouth tasted filthy. Was it from all the cigarettes? Maybe, but perhaps it was just from sharing the same air DeSouza was breathing. Tay kept the cigarette in his mouth, but he didn’t light it.

DeSouza continued silently staring out the window for a long while, although at God only knew what. Tay couldn’t see a thing out there.

All at once, DeSouza’s voice dropped to a husky, confidential whisper.

“I confess,” he said.

Tay wasn’t sure he had heard right. “What?” he asked.

“I said I confess.”

“Confess to what?”

“To everything.”

FORTY-SEVEN

DeSouza turned away from the window and looked at Tay.

“I killed Elizabeth Munson.”

Tay had half expected it, of course, even if he couldn’t say exactly why he had. Still, the suddenness of DeSouza’s confession left him stunned. He felt like a man who had been pitched from the safety of a boat into a dark, cold ocean. He fought to stay afloat, but felt himself sinking.

DeSouza never took his eyes off Tay and his expression never changed.

“I killed Susan Rooney,” he said.

Tay sank deeper and deeper. He could feel the icy waters closing over his head.

“I killed Cally Parks.”

Abruptly, DeSouza went back to his chair and sat down. He took a long drink and barked a laugh.

“I killed them all, and I enjoyed it.”

Tay couldn’t say anything for a moment. He could hardly even breathe.

“But you’re a policeman,” he finally stammered. “How could…” he trailed off into silence. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured.

DeSouza sloshed the whiskey around in his glass. “So what the fuck are you going to do about it, little man? Arrest me?”

DeSouza put down his glass and held out his hands, his wrists together.

“You going to hook me up? Read me my rights? I’m not sure what rights I have in Singapore. I probably don’t have any. But, hey, let’s not worry about it. I waive them all. So come on.”

He shook his wrists at Tay, but Tay didn’t move.

“No? Well…” DeSouza leaned back. “That’s probably a smart call, Tay. Nobody’s going to believe you without