the backyard. Washington Street was one of Natchez’s most beautiful thoroughfares, and Penn’s yard was a showplace. There were dogwood and crape myrtle trees, azaleas, rafts of ivy, and perfect circles of monkey grass around the trees. Oddly, there was no division of any kind between Penn’s backyard and the one next door. Together they formed a huge garden with several play areas, and it seemed as though Penn and his neighbor had collaborated to make a fantasyland for children.
“Who lives over there?” Waters asked, pointing at the three-story town house next door.
“That’s Caitlin’s house. I had to live somewhere, so I picked the most convenient place.”
Waters started to smile but didn’t. Caitlin Masters was not only Penn’s girlfriend, but also the publisher of the local newspaper.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Penn said. “Don’t worry. Caitlin and I won’t be exchanging information. Not from me to her, at any rate. We had to deal with this situation on the Del Payton case. It wasn’t a problem.”
“You didn’t have to say that. But thanks.”
Penn walked over to a flower bed, knelt, and started pulling up weeds.
“So,” Waters said, “are you going to tell me about this theory you mentioned?”
Penn continued to pull weeds. “Do you know why I asked for all the details about you and Mallory?”
“No.”
“I wanted to know why you were so susceptible to the things Eve told you.”
“And now you know?”
“Yes. I have a lot of thoughts about you and Mallory, actually, but we’ll save those for another time. The bottom line is that Eve didn’t have to try very hard to resurrect Mallory Candler for you, because for you, Mallory never died.”
Waters didn’t know what to say.
“Oscar Wilde was firmly convinced that men are the more sentimental sex, and I think he was right. Don’t feel bad. It would probably be easy to do something like this to me, if Lynne Merrill had been murdered ten years ago.”
“Something like what?”
Penn looked up from his work like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “John, someone is trying to drive you crazy. Probably someone very close to you.”
“They may even be trying to frame you for murder. I saw something like this in Houston once. A man married a woman for her money. Not surprisingly, he grew to hate her. He didn’t think he could murder her and get away with her money, so he tried to convince her family that she was insane. And it almost worked.”
“Who would want to drive me crazy?”
Penn shrugged. “That shouldn’t be hard to figure out. Who would benefit by your being declared incompetent?”
An image of Cole Smith came into Waters’s mind.
“I know that’s an unpleasant line of thought, but you’re in real danger. We have to go to the wall on this. We have to ask everything of everyone. Who’s in a position to blackmail you? Besides Eve Sumner, I mean, since she’s dead. Would anyone benefit if you were to go to prison for murder? And finally, does anyone hate you enough to destroy you simply for revenge?”
“Jesus.”
Penn went back to pulling his weeds. “I think we both know who we’re talking about. But let’s follow the logic before we name names. Who could possibly know all the facts that Eve used to convince you she was Mallory?”
“No one. I’ve been thinking about that for three weeks.”
“Could two people have pooled what they knew and put together the information Eve had?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about a diary?”
“What?”
“Did Mallory keep a diary? A journal? Something like that?”
“My God,” Waters thought aloud. “She did keep a diary. She had several, going way back. After the craziness started, I don’t remember seeing them as much. But she could have been writing a lot of that stuff down.”
“That may be our answer. You need to find out who has those diaries. I’d start with Mallory’s mother.”
“She won’t talk to me. Certainly not about that.”
“I might be able to help with that.” Penn yanked out a stubborn weed and tossed it on the ground. “Now, let’s get to the ugly stuff. I hear your partner’s in financial trouble.”
Waters nodded. “That’s what I hear too.”
“But not from Cole?”
“He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.” Waters told Penn about the pumping unit Cole had apparently sold without permission.
“You’ve got real problems, John.” Penn looked up and smiled. “But they’re
Waters felt light-headed. “It does, actually.”
“Let’s go back to Eve for a second. The way you told it to me, you were unconscious when she died.”
“As best I can remember.”
“It’s hard to imagine Cole slipping in and killing her to frame his best friend.”
“It is.”
“But he might not be above
Waters crouched beside Penn and spoke softly. “Cole offered to give me an alibi for the time of the murder.”
Penn’s head snapped toward him. “Did you ask him to do that?”
“Hell no.”
“Okay. You told me you didn’t use a condom with Eve that night, right?”
“No.”
Penn expelled a lungful of air, then stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “You screwed two people when you did that, John. Eve and yourself. Only you’re going to stay screwed. If they put you in that hotel room using DNA, it’ll take the archangel Gabriel to keep the D.A. from nailing you. They could say anything. Eve seduced you, then tried to blackmail you, and you killed her. Or you promised to leave your wife and then reneged. Eve threatened to tell, and you killed her. The scenarios are endless.”
Waters got to his feet. “You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?”
“I’m a lawyer. You have two choices. One: Turn yourself in to the authorities, which I don’t recommend at this juncture.”
Waters closed his eyes and sighed with relief.
“Two: Find out who’s trying to turn your life inside out, and nail them before they-or the police-nail you.”
Penn’s theory, combined with the prospect of action, gave Waters his first real hope since waking up next to Eve’s corpse. “How would you start?”
“Confront Cole about the pumping unit. Be aggressive. See how he reacts. I’ll do what I can to find out about Mallory’s diaries. We’ll talk again tonight.”
“What about Tom Jackson? Should I just avoid him? I have no idea what he’s going to ask me.”
“You went to school with Tom. What do you think about him?”
“The old cliche. Tough but fair. He’d hate to bust me for murder, but he’d do it.”
“Do you have your cell phone with you?”
Waters nodded.
“Call him right now. If he asks something you’re not sure how to answer, tell him you’re out in the county checking a well, and you’re getting a dropped signal. You’ll call him back when you get in.”
Penn’s deviousness brought a smile to Waters’s face. He took his phone from his pocket, called the police department, identified himself, and asked for Detective Jackson. After about a minute, Jackson came on the line, his
