niece, Zoe, currently staying with his daughter in the guest house. He went into depth here, explaining that although Riley and Zoe were the same age, Riley was actually Zoe’s aunt. He found this endlessly entertaining. Landry pushed him—gently—to move on. Franklin told Landry his mother was long dead and his father, Franklin II, was a former senator and was once “very powerful.” Landry caught some emotion there and quickly moved to safer ground. “What’s the best fishing day you ever had?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” He gave the date, the location, the catch, and the weather conditions.
Landry wrote everything in a small spiral notebook. Even though these were throwaway questions used to establish a baseline, they could be important in putting together a picture of the man.
Landry led the attorney general into phase II. This was where he asked “reactor” questions meant to elicit emotion. He wanted to prod Haddox into reacting viscerally. He wanted to see how the man handled questions that might threaten him.
This was what he learned:
Haddox’s daughter Riley would never amount to anything. She was the biggest disappointment of his life.
His son, the apple of his eye (he actually said this), died in a drag-racing accident his senior year in high school, eight years ago.
His wife was his best friend. He was guarded about her. Landry tried to find out why, but ran into a brick wall. Franklin said twice, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He did, however, resent the time she spent with her horses.
His father was a “great man,” but he was stubborn, arrogant, and dismissive. “I’m the attorney general of the United States of America, and he still treats me like a child. I got farther up the ladder than
Franklin added, “Now he’s got dementia, he’s still stubborn and dismissive, but he’s nuts, too. Living with him is like
Franklin hated celebrities, especially Hollywood liberals. “They’re what’s wrong with America. They’re bringing us down. They have no morals, but God, are they self-righteous! What an example to set for Riley—you can see why she’s so messed up.”
A diatribe followed, morphing into how President Stephen Baird had kept the country safe. He “almost eradicated terrorism in our time,” but then he died and now “that woman,” nothing but a placeholder, was the president of the United States.
“You can’t work with her. You wouldn’t believe what a fucking hillbilly she is. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing, she should be running bake sales for the PTA, and here she is, the most powerful person in the world. And she has no idea how to use that power. Grace defends her. I guess women stick together, am I right?”
He rambled on. Landry let him.
Now he knew the former attorney general’s sticking points. He knew just how Haddox reacted when threatened. Franklin was a master of righteous indignation. He bridled at “the ingratitude of people.” His sense of entitlement was astounding.
Landry adjusted the IV down a notch. He had to achieve just the right balance, and the triptascoline was very strong.
Landry went back to the initial questions, staying away from anything controversial. He asked Franklin his name, his age, favorite color, hobbies, what the island was like. Haddox became genial again, forthcoming. A happy drunk.
He was primed.
Now the interrogation would begin.
31
Cove Bar was heating up. Scott pushed through the crush, Jolie in his wake, and called out over the thumping bass to a man in a white tee and jeans. “Brock?”
The man moved slightly, under the arm of his taller boyfriend. Pantomimed: “Me?”
Scott said to Jolie, “Brock attracts men like flies. If Blazer Man was trolling, trust me, he’d start with Brock.”
Jolie motioned toward the door. “Can we talk outside for a minute?”
“Sure thing, hon.” They filed out into daylight, Brock’s lover holding on to his belt like the caboose on a choo- choo train.
The sun hit them, bright and hot. But at least they could talk out here. They stood in the shade of the sign’s big round shadow sprawled on the sidewalk like a reverse spotlight.
Jolie described the guy, Rick. Asked if he had tried to pick Brock up. Brock’s boyfriend, Roger, straightened, glared at her.
Brock said to Roger, “You remember, I told you about him.”
Roger glowered.
Brock said, “He’s mad because when he was visiting his sister in Tampa, I went to the bar. I mean, where else would I go? These are my
“You could have stayed home. I was only gone three days.”
“The guy,” Jolie reminded them. “Rick.”
“Ah, yes, I remember him. He seemed dangerous.” Gave a delicious shudder, and Jolie thought Roger was about to deck him. “Oh, come on, Roger! Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Just kind of…he had a vibe. I got the feeling he could be brutal.”
A feeling. Great. “What specifically made you think he could be brutal?”
“His eyes. They were like stones. Nothing in them.”
“How did he approach you?”
“He just came up and started talking. Not flirting, he wasn’t even all that friendly. He might as well have been picking a lobster out of a tank.” He put his hand in Roger’s back jeans pocket.
“What did he say?”
“He told me he liked the bar, asked if I came here a lot. He said he was new in town, and he was going to a party and asked me if I was interested.”
“He came
“Oh, don’t be such a bitch. I didn’t go, did I? Guy gave me the creeps. It was like, I said no, and he just crossed me off his list and went on to the next one.”
“The next one?”
“There’s this blonde Adonis, his name is Jimmy, but he’s taken, big-time. This guy, Rick, saw him across the bar and made a beeline straight for him.”
Jolie asked, “Did he tell you where the party was?”
“Cape San Blas. I think it was a club.”
“A club?”
“I don’t know Cape San Blas that well, but it sounded like a club, or maybe a gated community.”
“How did you get that impression?”
“Because I overheard him talking on his cell a little later. He said something about ‘Indigo.’ I thought it was a club.”
Jolie stared at him. “Indigo?”
“I think that’s what he said.”
Jolie thanked him and started for her car. The sun seemed to bear down on her, crushing in its intensity. She heard Scott behind her. “You going to drop me off?”
“Sure.”
“Well, thanks.”
Jolie registered the sarcastic tone, but her mind wasn’t on Scott Emerson or his hurt feelings. Her mind was on Indigo. Maybe there was a bar or a club or a gated community on San Blas named Indigo. Maybe.
But in her heart, Jolie knew the truth: there was only one Indigo.
