“I see you wear your uniform even on Sunday,” Mooney said.
“I wear it when I’m working.”
“So you’re working today?”
“Sure am. That’s why I’m here.”
Bates watched as Mooney finished fixing a vodka martini. He dropped three olives from a jar into his glass and carried the glass to his desk. Rather than sit down in the seat next to Bates, Mooney slid in behind his desk.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mooney said.
Bates leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and watched Mooney carefully.
“Ain’t no point in beating around the bush, Lee. I arrested Alexander Dunn this morning.”
Mooney’s complexion immediately changed from pink to purple, and his mouth tightened. He began to slowly spin the martini glass with his right hand.
“I assume that was a joke,” Mooney said.
“Afraid not. I arrested him for extortion and soliciting a bribe, for now. I’m going to have Dillard look at the case and see what else he can come up with.”
Mooney took a long drink from the martini and set it gently back down on the desk. Bates had to give him credit: Besides the change in color, Mooney had exhibited barely any reaction to the news. He shook his head.
“Extortion? Alexander? I don’t believe it.”
“Maybe you’ll believe it when you see the video, but for now, I’ll just play the audio.”
Bates reached into his back pocket and produced a small CD player that contained a recording of the night Alexander had collected two thousand dollars from Bates’s informant. He pushed the button and allowed the recording to play from start to finish. When it ended, Bates picked the recorder up and put it back in his pocket. Mooney drained the rest of the martini and began to finger his handlebar mustache.
“Alexander’s been begging me to make a deal,” Bates said. “He says it was all your idea. He wants to give you up. He’s even willing to wear a wire on you.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Mooney said calmly.
“Any truth to it?”
“What do you think?”
Bates leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, savoring the moment. Bates was a sheriff, and a damned good one, but he was first and foremost a politician. Opportunities like this were rare, and Bates planned to make the most of it.
“I think it’s time for you and me to make a deal,” Bates said. “The way I see it is this little situation could go real bad for you unless I was to see my way clear to put a certain spin on it. The way I see it is I can either tell folks around here that I suspect the district attorney has been involved in illegal activity but I can’t prove it, or, later on down the road if the word leaks out, I can tell them that we investigated Alexander’s accusations thoroughly and there is absolutely no evidence that the district attorney was involved in any way. I can tell them that Alexander is desperate and is trying to save his own ass by smearing his boss. And coming from me, people will believe it.”
“What about your recording? It mentions me.” Bates noticed that beads of sweat were forming at Mooney’s temples.
“Digital recordings can be altered pretty easily,” Bates said. “Computers are fine tools.”
Mooney rose from the chair and walked back over to the bar. Bates watched Mooney’s hands closely as he poured another drink. They weren’t even trembling.
“You said something about a deal,” Mooney said. “What is it you want?”
“Not much. You’ve got ambitions; I’ve got ambitions. Me? I think I’d make a fine state senator when my term as sheriff is up. But in order for me to be a senator, I’m gonna need a lot of political and financial support. I believe you could help me with both of those things. But in the meantime, I want you to stay out of Dillard’s way and let him make sure Alexander gets what he deserves. I also want your word that you’ll support me in everything I do from this day forward. If I bust a gambler, I want him prosecuted. Same with drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, whatever. You make me look good, and I’ll make sure you don’t go to jail.”
“Sheriff, take a look around you,” Mooney said as he walked back towards the desk. “Expensive furniture, expensive antiques, expensive art, cherry molding, imported tile, vodka that costs a hundred dollars a bottle. I have plenty of money. What makes you think that I would ever get involved in something like this, despite what my nephew claims?”
“Your wife went to see a divorce lawyer when she caught you sleeping with Rita Jones last year,” Bates said. “Can’t say as I blame you. Rita’s a looker. But stuff like that gets around pretty quick in a small place like this. The way I figure it is that you thought you might be out on your ear, and since you’d gotten used to living like this here, well, I reckon you just needed another source of income, and those gamblers were easy pickins. But it appears as though your wife has forgiven you. Either that or it’d cost her too damned much money to divorce you. Am I right?”
A smile crossed Mooney’s face as he stood over Bates, drink in hand.
“You know a lot, don’t you, Sheriff?”
“It pays to know a lot.”
Bates rose and stuck out his hand. “So, do we have a deal? In exchange for me keeping this ugly matter under my cowboy hat, you support me a hundred and ten percent from now on. And when the time comes for me to move on up in the world of politics, you’ll make a substantial campaign contribution, publicly endorse me, and get your friends to do the same. Plus you stop shaking down the gamblers, give Alexander’s case to Dillard, and stay out of his way.”
Mooney took Bates’s hand and squeezed.
“Have you spoken to Dillard about this?” Mooney said.
“I talked to him, but I didn’t say nary a word about you.”
“Anyone else know about it?”
“The jailers know Alexander’s in jail. My informant heard what Alexander had to say, but I took care of him. That’s it.”
“Good. Then I guess we have a deal.”
Mooney set his drink down on the desk and led Bates back through the house to the front door. As Bates stepped back out into the sunshine, he heard Mooney clear his throat behind him.
“Sheriff, do you mind telling me how you caught Alexander?”
Bates turned and grinned. “It was good old-fashioned police work is all.”
“Hmm, good for you. Bad break for me, huh?”
“Brother, let me tell you what my granddaddy used to say when I told him I thought I’d caught a bad break. ‘Leon,’ he’d say, ‘the sun don’t shine up the same dog’s ass every day. If it did, it’d warp his ribs.’ ”
Bates tipped his hat to the district attorney, got in his car, and drove away.
Monday, November 10
I took the money to Jim Beaumont Saturday morning after I talked to Martha King, and then spent the rest of the weekend trying to distract myself. I ran six miles both Saturday and Sunday, cleaned out the garage, fixed a leak in an upstairs faucet, mopped all the floors in the house, did a couple of loads of laundry, anything to keep busy. I slept fitfully Sunday night. Images of Natasha kept haunting my dreams. At four fifteen on Monday morning, I had a vision of Natasha standing over me while I slept, ice pick in her hand, and I bolted upright. Sweat was pouring out of me, so I went into the bathroom and took a shower. I didn’t even bother trying to go back to sleep.
Caroline’s mother walked through the door at seven, right on time. Her name is Melinda, a tall and elegant woman, sixty-eight years old. She’d agreed to stay with Caroline during the day until the worst of the sickness passed.
“Why is there a sheriff’s car out there?” Melinda said as I gathered my things.
“We had a little problem with someone. Nothing to worry about.”
She looked at me suspiciously. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the girl who went after you in the courtroom, does it?”
“It might, but I think we’ve got it under control. If everything goes well today, she’ll be in jail by Wednesday.”
