The man who had coughed leaned to the side, reached down under his leg, and took out a pistol tipped with a thick black silencer. Resting the gun on his knee, he aimed the automatic directly at Albert’s chest. Albert froze.
“Albert,” Finch said, tasting the scotch. “This is very good, by the way. Would you like some?”
“No,” Albert heard himself say. “I quit drinking ten years ago.”
“Never too late to go back,” Finch said, bringing smiles to the two goons’ faces. “Unless it turns out that way. It’s entirely up to you.”
Albert said, “This isn’t funny. Don’t aim that thing at me.”
“No, it isn’t, is it? Not funny at all. Here’s the deal. We’re going to make a stop a few miles from here. You are going to make a tape for Herr Klein. On this tape you will tell the story of how you hired Jack Beals to kill Leigh Gardner so her ex-husband could sign over the land Mr. Mulvane so desperately needed. He had already purchased the land from Jacob Gardner when he found out that Gardner did not own it, his ex-wife did. When Mulvane discovered that she would never sell it as long as Jacob needed her to do so, he became desperate because he had intended to take the land from Gardner by force and say he paid a million dollars for it in order to cover the embezzling he has been doing for a long while. Beals killed the wrong person and panicked. Mulvane had Tug Murphy, or yourself, if you’d like to go to prison, kill Beals and Jacob Gardner to keep them quiet. You, being a decent man, couldn’t live with this sin on your head, so you’re making the tape to incriminate Mulvane and Tug Murphy. Then you leave town, or die by your own hand. I don’t care which, though you might. I think that’s about it.”
“That’s crazy,” Albert said. “Who’s going to believe that?”
“Some of it is true enough.” Finch took a small recorder from his coat pocket. “People will believe it because it explains everything nicely, and people like for things to make sense. And Herr Klein will make sure they do. He is investing over a billion dollars locally, and you are a fat, stupid, crooked ex-cop who works for a casino. The alternative is that Herr Klein will have Tug make the tape and blame you, which seems just as logical to me. All the denials you can muster won’t help you. One way or the other, Mulvane is going to take the rap. So is it going to be you or Tug in a cell with Mulvane?”
“I have a lot of money,” Albert said. “Let me go and it’s yours. Half a million dollars. Cash.”
“No, you don’t have that kind of money. Does old Albert here have any money, Gregory?”
The man who wasn’t aiming at Albert said, “We visited your home to look around and we found your twenty grand.”
“It’s nine hundred grand,” Albert growled.
“Nine or five, we only found twenty grand. Isn’t that right, Carl?” Steffan said.
The man with the gun nodded. “That’s right, Steffan.”
“Better for us. People will believe you took twenty from Mulvane for dirty favors,” Finch said. “Any more than that just complicates things. And Beals got what the cops found in his place for getting rid of troublesome individuals for you. It all works in more than one way.”
Sweat oozed from every pore in Albert’s large body.
“So,” Finch said holding out the recorder. “You choose. You have thirty seconds to begin your confession.”
Albert took the recorder and, shifting uncomfortably, promptly emptied his bowels.
“Nice,” Finch said. “Carl, roll down some windows.”
102
Winter sat watching hamp play a video game. To everyone’s great relief, Cyn had just sent a text message saying she would be home by ten P.M.
Seated on the floor with his legs crossed, the controller in his small hands, Hamp worked his fingers expertly, his eyes glued to the screen where muscular figures dressed in tight outfits traded punches and kicked at each other.
“Which one are you?” Winter asked.
“The white one,” Hamp replied. “The good wizard.”
Winter’s cell phone rang and he opened it, stood, and walked out of the room so he wouldn’t disturb Hamp.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Yeah, what?” Sean’s voice said.
“Yeah, hello, my dear.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I was sitting in a room with a child that reminds me of my son.”
“How’s it coming?”
“We’re winding down. We have a meeting in a little while to transfer some land that has already cost three lives.”
“Three?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you later.”
“What about you-know-who?”
“He who must not be named?” Winter said, infusing the joke with a joviality he didn’t feel.
“Yes.”
“Nothing but tracks,” he said truthfully.
“You’re being careful?”
“Of course I am. How’s Trammel doing?”
“Hank’s really proud of Faith Ann’s deer. He is getting the pictures blown up for the wall. Is Alexa with you?”
“Not at the moment. She had to go handle some Bureau politics.”
“The FBI getting involved?”
“No. It’s still a local matter.”
“I wish you were here,” Sean said. “I wish you were here in our bed with me. I could use some of that special Massey attention.”
“I’ll bring you a few pounds of that when I get this done. Word of honor.”
“Should I worry?”
“No, you definitely should not.”
Winter heard Olivia crying in the background.
“I have to go. Sleeping Beauty is awake. Call me in the morning?”
“Of course I will.”
“Massey, you know what?”
“No, what?” he asked, smiling.
“When you get back, I’m going to show you what.”
“I love you, Sean,” he said. “Tell the gang I said I love them.”
“Even Hank?”
“Don’t tell
Winter closed the phone after Sean broke the connection. He formed a picture in his mind of Hank and Millie Trammel and felt his eyes narrow into slits, as he pictured them run down and shattered in that rain-soaked New Orleans street.
Winter looked over his shoulder and what he saw stopped him cold. There through the partly opened kitchen door Winter was treated to a view of Brad and Leigh. They were embracing, her head against his chest. As he watched, Leigh leaned back, looked up, and instead of stepping back, as Winter expected, the two looked into each other’s eyes and put their lips together.
When their kiss finally ended, they tightened their embrace, and when Leigh opened her eyes, they met Winter’s and enlarged in the same sort of embarrassment that one might expect from a teenager caught singing to
