Mercy

damned easy.'

'You murdered her.' Dallas closed the folder.

John shifted in his chair. 'No, that's not exacdy true, I didn't murder her. We did.'

'I think I'm going to be sick,' Dallas stammered, and then bolted for the bathroom.

John seemed amused by the reaction. He motioned to the waiter to bring another round of drinks.

They sat stiffly together, like strangers now, each lost in his own thoughts. After the waiter had placed fresh drinks on the table and left, John said, 'I bet you'd like to kill me with your bare hands, wouldn't you, Cameron?'

'I'd sure as hell like to,' Preston said.

John shook his head. 'You're a hothead, Preston. Always have been. And with your muscle-building regime, you could break every bone in my body. But,' he added, 'if it weren't for me, you'd already be in prison. You don't think things through. You don't have what it takes. I guess you just don't have a calculating mind. We've had to push you into every financial decision. And we had to pressure you into agreeing with us to pay Monk to kill Catherine.'' He paused. 'Cameron, on the other hand, does have what it takes.'

Cameron inwardly cringed. 'I knew you didn't have much of a conscience, but I never figured you'd screw us. We're all you've got, John. Without us, you're… nothing.'

'We were friends and I trusted you,' Preston said.

'We're still friends,' John argued. 'Nothing's changed.'

'The hell it hasn't,' Cameron shot back.

John was completely unruffled. 'You'll get past it,' he promised. 'Especially when you remember how much money I've made

for you.'

Cameron propped his elbows on the table and stared into John's eyes. 'I want my cut now.'

'It's out of the question.'

'I say we dissolve the club. We each take our share and go our separate ways.'

'Absolutely not,' John said. 'You know the rules. None of us touches a dime for five more years.'

Dallas came back to the table and sat down. 'What did I miss?'

Preston, who now looked as though he was going to be sick, answered, 'Cameron wants to dissolve the club and split the assets now.'

'No way,' Dallas said, appalled. 'You make a withdrawal, and it can be traced by the IRS. It's out of the question.'

'He can't touch the money unless we all go with him to the bank, remember? We all have to sign before we're given access. That's how we set it up,' John reminded them.

'You're a real bastard, John.'

'Yeah, so you said. Face it, Cameron. You aren't angry because I lied to you. You're pissed off because your life's miserable

right now. I know you better than you know yourself. I know what you're thinking.'

'Yeah? Enlighten me.'

'You think I didn't have it all that bad. Right?'

'Yes,' Cameron admitted. 'That's exactly what I'm thinking.'

John's voice was calm as he said, 'But you didn't have the courage to do more than whine. I did. It's as simple as that.'

He turned to Dallas. 'You know, you'd never have asked Monk to kill Catherine if I hadn't lied.'

'But, John, if you wanted out, why didn't you just divorce her?' Dallas asked.

'The money,' he answered. 'I wanted every dollar she had. By God, I deserved it for putting up with her. She was a controlling bitch,' he added, and for the first time there was bitterness and hatred in his voice. 'Unlike Cameron, I didn't mask my misery

with booze. I planned. You have no idea how sickening she was. Her weight had gotten out of hand. She was a hypochondriac. All she thought about and talked about was her health. She did have a heart murmur, but it was no big deal. She was thrilled

when she found that out. It gave her a reason to become even more slovenly. She took to her bed and stayed there, being waited on hand and foot by her maids and by me. I kept hoping her heart would blow up, and, honest to God, I tried to kill her with the

ton of chocolates I brought home every night, but it was taking too long. Granted, I could have screwed around on her every

night and she wouldn't have known. In fact, I did screw around and she didn't find out. Like I said, the woman was too lazy to

get out of bed, much less leave her bedroom. I couldn't stand coming home to her. Looking at her made me want to puke.'

'Are we supposed to feel sorry for you now?' Cameron asked.

'No,' he answered. 'But as for crossing the line, we did that a long time ago.'

'We never murdered anyone.'

'So what? We'd still get twenty, maybe thirty years for all the crimes we have committed.'

'But they were white-collar crimes,' Preston stammered.

'Is that going to be your defense against the IRS?' John asked. 'Think they'll just slap your hands?'

'We never killed.'

'Well, now we have,' John snapped, irritated with Preston's whiny attitude. Focusing on Cameron now, he said, 'I'll tell you this.

It was easy… easy enough to do again. You know what I'm saying? We could wait a little while, maybe six months or so, and then talk to Monk again about your situation.'

Dallas's mouth dropped open. 'Are you out of your mind?'

Cameron cocked his head. He was already thinking about it. 'I'd love for Monk to pay a visit to my wife. It would be worth

every penny I had.'

'It's possible,' John said smoothly.

'If you don't stop talking like that, I'm out,' Preston threatened.

'It's too late for you to get out,' John countered. 'There's no such thing as a perfect murder,' Dallas said.

'Catherine's was pretty damned perfect,' John said. 'I can tell you're thinking about it, aren't you, Cam?'

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'I am.'

Preston suddenly wanted to wipe the smug look off of John's face. 'You've become a monster,' he said. 'If anyone finds out about Catherine…'

'Relax,' John said. 'We're in the clear. Now stop worrying. No one's ever going to find out.'

CHAPTER SEVEN

Catherine had the last laugh. The controlling bitch had ordered her attorney, Phillip Benchley, to wait six weeks to the day

after her death to read her last will and testament. John was furious about the delay, but he knew he couldn't do anything

about it. Even in death the woman continued to try to manipulate him.

Catherine had hired Phillip before she'd married John. He was a partner in the prestigious firm of Benchley, Tarrance, and Paulson. Benchley knew which side of the bread was buttered. The old fart had catered to Catherine's every whim. She must have changed her will at least three times that John knew of while they were married, but the last time he went through her