I froze. “And did you?”
“No, no. If they were following me, I lost them. I worked out a plan with my cousin. He came over, picked up my bike, and rode it to New Jersey. You can’t tell us apart with a motorcycle helmet on. If they followed him, they’re in Marlton by now.”
Smart, if it was true. “Good. Thanks. Now would you go?”
“Why are you trying to get rid of me? I’m your lawyer. Let me lawyer.”
“This isn’t lawyering, this is aiding and abetting. You shouldn’t be any more involved than you are.”
He looked over my shoulder. “What’s in here, anyway?”
“Boats, Harvard.”
He walked past me and disappeared into the men’s half of the boathouse. It was a huge room, long enough to accommodate two lengths of eights, on racks. Moonlight shone pale through the windows in the garage doors and glistened on the shellacked finish of the fiberglass sculls. Grady’s white shirt picked up the light as he moved, but I couldn’t make out what he was doing.
I stood rooted to the threshold, too nervous to follow. No one knew we were here. He could kill me and no one would know. I’d slipped a screwdriver from the shop into my waistband in the back, but didn’t relish having to protect myself with it. “I want you to go, Grady,” I called out, hoping my voice didn’t betray how jittery I felt. “You’re an accomplice after the fact.”
“This is amazing,” he said, his voice coming from the shadows. “The boats have names.” My eyes adjusted to the gloom and I made out his tall outline next to the eights. He was running his fingertips on the stenciling on one of the sleek boats.
“Yes, this is America. Now, show’s over. Time to go.”
“Stop being so jumpy, will you? There’s no cops outside, I checked. Look at this. This one says,
“Rich white guys. Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
“I’ve never been in a boathouse before. Why don’t you show me around? Rowing is a big part of your life. I’d like to know more about it.”
“There’s nothing to see but boats, Grady. They’re brown, they float in water. Boats galore. Nothing to see. Time to go.”
“Show me or I won’t tell you the surprise I brought you.” He walked toward me, but I edged back into the entrance hall, keeping my distance.
“Surprise? I don’t want any more surprises. I hate surprises.”
“Then I’ll show myself around. Lord.” He brushed by me and crossed the entrance hall into the women’s annex on the other side. “What’s in here?” he called out. “More boats?”
“Girl boats.”
“They pink?”
“They’re lighter. Bye, now.”
“You can be so rude. Do girl boats go as fast as boy boats?”
“If the right girl’s rowing.”
“Are you the right girl?”
“Aren’t you leaving?” I felt for the screwdriver, but he turned quickly and almost caught me.
“Guess your surprise, then I’ll leave. Here’s a clue.” He was grinning with an anticipation that looked genuine, at least in the dark.
“Grady, I don’t feel like playing games. It’s that murder suspect thing. No fun at all.”
“Come on, take one guess. It’s bigger than a bread box.”
“Your ego?”
“Hardly. It’s parked down the street, full of high octane.”
“A car? You brought me a car?” My heart leapt up, then I doubted him again. “How did you know I’d need a car?”
“I knew you had to get out of town.” He produced a silver key from his pocket and dangled it in the moonlight. “It’s a brand new car.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“It’s my cousin’s. I swapped it for the motorcycle. He’s wanted to borrow it for a long time.”
“Way to go.” Despite my wariness, I snatched the key from his hand. “Now out with you.” I pushed him toward the door, but he wouldn’t budge.
“I want to go with you, Bennie.”
“Out of the question.”
“Why? Why should you go alone?”
“I like being alone.”
“That’s not it,” he said firmly. “Something’s bothering you. You’re cold to me now, it’s obvious. You don’t trust me, do you?”
Shit. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s because I lied to you about meeting Mark, isn’t it? You don’t have to say so, I know that’s what it is. You found out I met with Mark from his calendar. I looked in the briefcase, Bennie, I know. I can tell you why I lied. Let me explain.”
“I want you to go, Grady. I can’t be any clearer about it.” I stepped around him and headed for the door, but he caught my arm, startling me.
“I did meet with Mark. Two times. The first time he told me he was leaving the firm and he wanted me to go with him. He said I was the only associate he wanted to take besides Eve.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him no. The second time I called him and we met at The Rittenhouse. I was trying to talk him out of it.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I have no idea,” I said, though I had an inkling. I could sense it. Feel it coming in the increasing huskiness of Grady’s voice and the way he was leaning toward me in the darkness.
“Because of you. I didn’t want him to hurt you. I know how much the firm means to you.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. My throat was tight.
“Bennie, you can trust me. I’ll never keep anything from you again, I swear it. I’d never hurt you, not for all the money in the world.” In that second he reached into his jacket, and when his hand came out I saw the steely glint of a gun.
I gasped. My heart stopped. Grady was the killer. He was going to kill me. I reached for my screwdriver, but Grady grabbed my hand and slapped the gun into it.
“Here. It’s yours. Keep it.”
“What? How?” I looked down at the gun. It was a pistol with a cross-hatched handle, cold and heavy in my palm.
“It’s for protection. The safety’s on, but it’s loaded. It’s my gun from home. Shoot anything or anybody that tries to hurt you. If you won’t let me protect you, then let it.”
I couldn’t process it all fast enough. A screwdriver was one thing, a gun quite another. I’d never held one that wasn’t tagged as evidence, and even with an orange exhibit number they struck a dissonant note in me. I’d seen the damage guns did, how they tore at faces, heads, hearts. I handed the weapon back. “No, Grady. You keep it.”
“Why?” He slipped the weapon into his jacket. “You’re being silly.”
“No I’m not. Besides, I have my trusty screwdriver.” I drew it from the waistband of my shorts and held it up.
Grady laughed. “Aren’t we the well-armed couple? But the screwdriver’s not exactly effective at fifty yards.” He took the tool and tossed it over his shoulder.
“Hey, yo! That’s my protection.”
“You don’t need protection from me. If I were going to hurt you, would I have given you a gun?” he asked,
