insisted on the sunporch, the sunporch being the place where he’d played out the game in his head a thousand times.
And yet Jarrett hadn’t cheated on a single hand. The gold teeth in the back of his mouth fascinated Charlie every time Jarrett smiled with his winnings, raking in the chips and laughing it up with that hick accent. Colvin not a damn bit of help, frequently excusing himself to go to the bathroom or fetch more ice or any damn thing to speak to Betty some more.
Only Kirk, who sat to his right, seemed to take a serious interest in Jarrett. And now that Jarrett was knee- walking drunk, they didn’t have to be so damn furtive about it. Kirkpatrick excused himself from the table as had been arranged, only the two men left in the haze of squashed cigars, eyes glazed with bourbon.
“I wish that SOB Kelly would try to come back on this porch now,” Charlie said, reaching behind him and placing a revolver on the table.
“Nice-looking gun.”
“I’d shoot him right between the eyes.”
Jarrett just sat there, short-sleeved white shirt all wrinkled on his shapeless form. He played with the cards, running them through his hands, laughing at tricks he’d seen cardsharps work but was unable to perform himself. He cut the deck of cards and tried a fancy shuffle that broke and scattered across his lap and onto the floor.
“You’re putting me on,” Charlie said. “All that time in the fields, and you can’t shuffle better than that?”
“I can’t help my winnings, Charlie. Don’t be a sore loser.”
Charlie smiled, just a little. He reached for his cigar that had burned down a three-inch ash. He tipped off the ash and smoked for a few moments while he watched Jarrett pour a fat helping of liquor and settle into the chair, watching bugs that had collected in a ceiling light.
“You think much about it?”
“ ’ Bout what?”
“Mickey Mouse,” Charlie said. “Hell, Kelly. What do you think? What else is there to think about?”
Jarrett turned away from the ceiling and tried to focus on Charlie’s face. He lost interest, and leaned into the table to count his money into a sloppy little pile. “I guess I better be goin’.”
“Funny how Kelly knew we were here,” Charlie said, feeling control for the first time since those bastards had stepped across his threshold. “Funny how they didn’t try to snatch me anywhere else.”
“I wouldn’t call it funny,” Jarrett said, pushing back his chair and standing.
“Sit back down.”
“Excuse me?”
“Finish your drink.”
Charlie reached over and poured out two fingers into his own crystal glass and topped off Jarrett’s. “You didn’t think it was strange that the back door was unlocked?”
“I never gave it any thought, Charlie,” Jarrett said. “Say, what are you gettin’ at?”
“If you needed money so bad, why didn’t you come to me for a loan?”
“Good night, Charlie.”
“You set the game,” Charlie said. “You made sure Berenice and I sat here like ducks for that gangster.”
“You’re drunk.”
“You unlatched the back door when my back was turned.”
Jarrett reached for the deck of cards, shuffled them out smoothly, reaching for them and sifting through with expert, practiced fingers. He looked up only with his eyes and gave a drunken smile. “Prove it.”
Charlie opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.
“You think I sold you out to a couple gangsters?” Jarrett asked. “Then go call Mr. Colvin away from sweet- talking Betty. Go on and lay out what you know-
“I know it was you.”
“I bet.”
“I just can’t figure out why.”
“You got a lot of windows in this house,” Jarrett said. “Lots of glass.”
“Are you passing out a morality lesson?”
Jarrett reached for the loose bills and silver dollars. The table still littered with sandwich plates and ashtrays, empty beer bottles and fine whiskey glasses.
“How long have you known me?” Jarrett asked.
“You don’t recall?” Charlie asked, rubbing his temples with his hands.
“When?”
“Back to Seminole.”
“Biggest oil field ever discovered,” Jarrett said. “Made Tom Slick one of the richest men in this country.”
Charlie nodded, holding the plug of the cigar and waiting, knowing where this was headed, feeling the heat swell in his face.
“You tried to buy my land.”
“I made you a fair offer,” Charlie said. “Don’t turn this back on me.”
“I made a fair counter,” Jarrett said. “You remember.”
Charlie didn’t say anything.
“I can’t recollect, but I seem to remember I wanted two hundred thousand, an honest price for property that’d later produce nine hundred barrels a day.”
Charlie pulled on the cigar. He reached for the edge of the table.
“Thought you wanted me to stay awhile.”
“Good night, Walter.”
“But you didn’t pay me,” Jarrett said, getting to his feet. He walked to a sideboard, where his hat had become wet from melting ice. “You just bought up the property next to mine.”
“Perfectly legal.”
“And you siphoned every drop while I was hustling to buy equipment.”
“Do you know how many leases Tom Slick and I worked? How can I recall one deal?”
Jarrett headed for the back door of the sunporch and grinned, stopping to savor the moment, as he fingered the lock open. “Yep, I guess that would be awfully hard to prove in court. I guess that’s what you learned men would call ‘a conundrum.’ ”
Charlie Urschel sat back down and listened for Jarrett’s car pulling away on the same route Kelly took, sitting there in the midnight silence until the cigar started to singe his fingers.
29
Kathryn drove straight to Biloxi and then right back around to Texas in that old Model A truck, her ass flying up and off the seat, shifting those crazy, rusted gears all the way across on Highway 80, west through New Orleans and Lafayette, Lake Charles, and over the state line into Beaumont, before cutting up Highway 6 to Navasota, College Station, and Marlin, where she nearly dozed off at the wheel, hitting the clutch, sputtering, and killing the engine, and then starting off again, limping that hunk of junk up to Waco, way past midnight, with a
