undermine it. He told me he’d call me Sunday if he wasn’t in jail, and hung up.
When we got back to the motel after supper, I found two old-fashioned handwritten messages waiting: “Call Livy” and “Call Ike.” I had no idea what Livy could want, other than to curse me for vilifying her father in the newspaper, but I called Tuscany anyway. The number of the Marston mansion hadn’t changed since we were kids, but the fact that it had remained in my memory for twenty years probably said something about my buried feelings for Livy. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as the phone rang, but I resolved to tell Leo to kiss my ass if he answered.
“Marston residence.” A maid.
“Yes, could I speak to Liv, please?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Her husband.”
“Just a moment, Mr. Sutter.”
After a few moments Livy came on the line and said, “John?”
“It’s Penn.”
“Oh. Just a minute.” Her voice was under tight control. I heard the clacking of heels on hardwood, then her voice again, more relaxed. “I’m glad you called back. How’s Annie doing?”
“Better. Look, I know you must be upset about the paper.”
A strange laugh. “Things are pretty crazy around here. I don’t know what you’re trying to do. But I know why you’re doing it.”
I said nothing.
“Penn… hurting my father won’t make up for the years we lost.”
“I know that.”
“I hope so. Because I called to tell you that, as bad as all this is, I don’t want to let him come between us again.”
We both waited in the vacuum of the open line, each hoping the other could somehow bridge the chasm my accusations had opened between us. I imagined her sitting alone in the Italianate palace that had sheltered her throughout her childhood. She had often portrayed it to me as a prison, but I never bought into this. She wouldn’t have traded Tuscany for anything.
“Livy?”
“I’m here.”
“You haven’t asked where I got my information about your father. You haven’t protested his innocence.”
“Of course I haven’t. It’s ridiculous. My father murdering a black man? He’s probably the least prejudiced man in this town.”
“Del Payton’s death may not have been a race murder. Tell me something, Livy. What would you do if you found out your father had ordered the burning of my parents’ house?”
“That’s insane.”
“Just pretend it was true. What would you do?”
“Well, obviously, I’d be the first one to call the police.”
Maybe she didn’t even know she was lying. “I need to go, Livy.”
“Can we see each other tonight?”
I couldn’t believe she wanted to be within ten miles of me after the newspaper story. “Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
Images from the day before filled my mind: Livy floating naked in the pool, kissing me passionately as we sank slowly through the green water, her thigh pressing against me. “We’d better play it by ear. There’s a lot going on right now.”
“That’s all the more reason to stay close. Just remember what I said about my father. I meant it.”
“I will.”
I hung up and dialed Ike’s cell phone before thoughts of Livy could overwhelm me. I wanted to call her back and say, “Pick me up in twenty minutes.” But the past had finally caught up with us, and Ike the Spike was growling in my ear.
“Meet me where I wanted to last night,” he said, meaning the warehouse in the industrial park by the river. “One hour.”
“What about?”
“What about? About whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, man. This town’s going crazy. One hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Damn straight you will.”
I’ve been sweating in the dark warehouse for twenty minutes, breathing the stink of fertilizer and wondering what could be keeping Ike. It’s fully dark now, and the spotlight of a tugboat pushing barges upriver arcs through the night like a Hollywood klieg light, searching for sandbars and unexpected traffic. A slight breeze off the Mississippi penetrates the twenty-foot-wide warehouse door, where I stand watching the dark line of the levee, waiting for the headlights of Ike’s cruiser.
I am unarmed but not unprotected. Daniel Kelly is covering me. After asking four times if I really trust Ike Ransom, Kelly parked his rental car behind the warehouse and told me to forget he was there. I parked the BMW out front so that Ike would see it when he drove up.
What I take for the sound of another tugboat suddenly resolves into a car engine. A set of headlights descends the levee, pulls into the parking lot of the warehouse, and stops beside my car.
It’s Ike’s cruiser.
He gets out, his brown uniform looking black under the single security light, and walks toward the warehouse door. Halfway there he stops, turns, and watches the levee for nearly a minute. Maybe he senses Kelly’s presence. Whatever the reason, he resumes walking toward me. When he’s ten yards away, I step into the light, holding both hands in plain view.
Ike draws his pistol faster than I would have believed possible, recognizing me just as the barrel lines up with my chest. He quickens his step and shoves me back into the shadows.
“You ought to know better than that,” he mutters.
“Why are you so jumpy?”
The whites of his eyes flick left and right in the darkness. “You ain’t jumpy? After somebody burned down your house and took your kid?”
“Who set that fire, Ike? Who took my daughter? Ray Presley?”
“Could have been.” He holsters his pistol. “But I don’t know for sure. Not yet.”
“Why are we here?”
“So you can tell me what the hell you think you’re doing in the paper. You crazy? Making statements like that?”
“You’re the one who told me Marston was guilty.”
“Jesus. Is that the way you did it in Houston? Shoutin’ shit in the papers before you got any proof?”
“Take it easy. Everything’s under control.”
“Under control? Shooting your mouth off about local law enforcement coming forward?”
“I’m pursuing this the way I think best. As far as the newspaper story goes, I wanted Marston to sue me, and the story accomplished that.”
“You what?”
“I wanted the right to request everything from personal papers to phone records from Marston under the rules of discovery.”
A gleam of recognition. “That lawsuit means you can ask for Marston’s personal shit? And get it?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay… maybe you ain’t crazy. You get the judge’s legal files, you’re liable to find all kinds of illegal shit.”
