What would Will do? Will would get it over with.
Taylor decided to get it over with. He said, “Part of the trouble I’m having in locating Zamarion is his legal address was changed to this one almost three years ago.”
Ashe didn’t respond.
Taylor tried to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice. “I don’t understand why you lied to me. I spoke to Lt. Capaldi at the sheriff’s station, and he said Zamarion was living here while your mother was alive. A bunch of squatters didn’t invade this house after it was left empty. Zamarion, his wife, a friend, and the friend’s baby were already living here. They were maintaining the house and garden for your mom in return for room and board. And it seems like they even took care of your mom once she got sick.”
“That’s their story!” Ashe glared at him.
“Sure, but it seems to be corroborated pretty thoroughly. I talked to a lot of people yesterday. Friends of your mom, neighbors, the mailman, the kid who delivered her groceries, the lady who did her nails at the beauty salon—”
“I didn’t ask you to do any of that!”
Taylor hung on to his restraint. “I’m not completely sure what you are asking me to do.”
Ashe cried, “Did you bother to notice that Zamarion has a prison record, or were you too busy investigating me?”
“Yes. I noticed he’s got form, including a conviction for manslaughter.”
“What does that tell you?”
“That he can be a violent guy.”
“Exactly! That is exactly right!”
“Ashe.” Taylor stopped. Tried for a reasonable tone. “He did his time, and there’s no indication that he’s been in any trouble with the law since. I don’t know what happened regarding your mother’s will. It’s clear you don’t think Zamarion has any right to this property. And I guess that’s understandable. But unless the two of you can reach some agreement, it seems like that’s a fight that has to be made through the courts. From what I heard yesterday, there doesn’t seem to be any doubt you would win that battle.”
“Yes! That’s what I said. So why are you lecturing me?”
Taylor sighed. “Because being angry about Zamarion coming for your inheritance doesn’t give you the right to harass him or try to set him up.”
Ashe scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
“No!” But Ashe seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes.
“Here’s what I think. I think you’re in a hurry to sell this property. I think you want to get back to Josip and making movies. Zamarion is standing in the way of that. And I think you decided the best way to deal with a ‘lowlife’ like him was turn the law on him by accusing him of things like threatening to kill you, trying to run you off the road, and setting fire to this house. He’s already got a record and a reputation.” Taylor shrugged.
“You are so wrong.”
“Honestly? Nothing would make me happier. I don’t like feeling manipulated. Or used.”
Ashe gaped. “Used?”
“Yes. You presented me with a portrait of a bad guy, told me you were afraid for your life, and set me loose. I think you hoped I’d eliminate your problem for you.”
This was the part that most troubled Taylor. The suspicion that Ashe had thought Taylor might push Zamarion into doing something that landed him back in prison—or worse.
Ashe’s hands were shaking. He dropped the coffeepot, which shattered, spilling glass and coffee over the counter and floor.
He screamed, “I am afraid for my life!”
The dripping silence following that shriek was almost as loud as the scream itself. As protests went, it was pretty convincing.
“Yes, I’m trying to fight fire with fire, you’re right. And I’m sorry if you feel used.” Ashe’s eyes filled with tears, and his voice got choky. “But for fuck’s sake, Taylor, you’re the only person I know who could deal with something like this. Maybe he didn’t try to set fire to the house, but he did try to run me off the road. He did threaten to kill me. Not once. Three times. He is going to kill me. But he’s smart. He’s been through the system. He knows how it works. He knows how to play it. So no one believes me. Even you don’t believe me. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to die.”
Taylor wavered. He had walked into that house convinced he was being manipulated, but now he wasn’t so sure. Ashe was frightened to the point of near hysteria. He wasn’t faking it. He also wasn’t denying he had lied again and again.
Now what?
The thought must have been there on his face to read because Ashe said hopelessly, “Taylor, if you won’t help me, I’m dead. It’s that simple.”
Maybe it was that simple. Probably not. He kept coming back to the heart of the matter: he had promised to be there if Ashe ever needed him, and it was pretty damn clear that Ashe needed someone. Taylor seemed to be it.
He watched Ashe cry, mopping feebly with a paper towel at the coffee dripping off the counter onto the floor. Ashe shook his head hopelessly, wiped his face on his shoulder, mopped at the coffee some more.
“All right,” Taylor said grimly. “I have a lead on Zamarion. I’ll try to talk to him. If that doesn’t work… I don’t know. One thing at a time.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Taylor.” Ashe dropped the sodden paper towel on the floor, came to him, put his arms around him, and Taylor stood motionless. He felt sorry for Ashe. He was also repelled by him. Not an attractive combo. He let Ashe hug him, then carefully disengaged, trying not to look like he was backing away.
“Okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll let you know what happens. In the meantime, stick close to home. And don’t be afraid
