Джон Макдональд - The Last One Left

“A little game, eh? Like learning to jump out of airplanes without a chute, or picking up rattlesnakes by the back of the neck with your teeth. What makes you so damn dumb anyways?”

Tom Dorra looked angry and upset. “You’ve got no call to talk to me like that. Sam Boylston’s just another one of those nice clean little lawyer fellas.”

Judge Billy tilted his swivel chair back and looked at a far high corner of the room. “Been around a long, long time. Seen a lot of them come along. Don’t you get twitchy thinking on that free drink I offered. You set and listen. Might help you some day. Got any idea why Lydia Jean run for cover? Tell you what I think, big Tom. She’s trying to see if she can slow him down some, make him look around and see folks instead of things, and like the fella says, get him to learn to stop and smell the flowers.”

“Do you honest to God know what you’re talking about, Judge?”

“Won’t work, of course. Not with Sam Boylston. He’s in a dead run. Can’t stop. Won’t stop. Scared to stop. That’s the way the big ones are. He ain’t real big yet. But he’s moving as fast as you’ll ever see. Twenty years when he’s Bix’s age about, line ’em up side by side, Bix Kayd is dime-store goods, a clown-man. You can feel the power in Sam’l. He’s got the stillness, hearing all, seeing all, tucking it away. When you ragged him some about Lydia Jean, I seen something look out of his eyes at you, something I wouldn’t fool with.”

“You’re scaring me to death, Judge.”

“Me, I won’t last long enough to see him as big as he’s going to get. But he’s a-going to own this whole Valley, as just a first step. Oh, not by title and deed, but there won’t be anybody with land worth in six figures on up stupid enough to cross him. What he wants done gets done. And tucked back in his brain is the memory of how you did him today. He won’t come after you just to pleasure himself. He can’t waste his time on earth like that. But one day there’ll be money he can see on the far side of you, and he won’t go around you. He’ll go right over the top of you, stompin’ as he goes, and you won’t be a person to him because nobody is real to him but Sam Boylston. If I was you, I’d start thinking on cashing ever’thing in and moving far enough away so he won’t likely come across you.”

“Billy, what’s wrong with you? The land my great grand-daddy settled is smack in the middle of my holdings. I got friends close and true in six counties. Nothing Boylston can ever do to me, a little lawyer-man like that!”

“Lydia Jean may slow him a little bit for a little time, but then he’ll come on faster than ever. He thinks he’s like everybody else. It’s just he don’t have any softness slowing him down. God knows I ain’t got much, but what I got makes me smaller than I could have been. You got more than me by far. But if Sam Boylston had a thing to gain by rendering you down into cooking oil, he’d stoke the fire, boil you good, skim the fat into a bucket and tote it off. It saddens me thinking you’re the last Dorra going to own land in this county, and I might live long enough to get brought down with you if I’m standing too close, so we’ve come to an end of drinking together, and now it’s time we start winding up all the things we’re into together, so let’s start dickering on who buys who out of what and for how much.”

“You got to be kidding, Billy! Your old brain is cloudy. I got a bad case of the shorts. Do that, and you’ll be running me out of some prime stuff, and you damn well know it. We been friends a long time.”

Judge Billy Alwerd blinked and smiled like a lizard on a rock. “All of a sudden being friends with you is too dangerous, Tom D. Anything you want to take over, I’ll take back mortgages, but I’ll discount ’em right off. We’re going to be arms length all the way.”

Tom stood up and leaned over the desk and said, “Do me this way, and I’ll crack your spine, old man!”

“I will. And you won’t.” He chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, boy, what’s happening to you right now is Sam Boylston’s doing. You tweaked him about his woman, and you come down with a hard case of finance-yool leprosy. Don’t mess with Francie on the way out, you hear?”

When Sam got back to his office there was a note that his wife had called him. He called her back, knowing the call would be about Leila, and that she had heard. He told her that he didn’t know anything new, and that he was going over to the Bahamas the evening of the next day. When she asked about Jonathan, Sam said that Jonathan might be in Nassau already, but he certainly would be there by the time Sam arrived.

When she was silent for a few moments, Sam said, “Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what, dear?”

“If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been on the cruise.”

“There’s no point in you blaming yourself, Sam. You had no way of knowing anything would happen. And why do you think I’d say anything like that to you at a time like this? Do you think I go around looking for chances to be nasty?”

“I don’t know what to think about you, Lyd. I don’t know how much resentment there is. There has to be some, wouldn’t you say? Or you’d be home where you belong.”

“That isn’t the kind of attitude that’s going to make me hurry back.”

“I should get used to your new rule, I guess. No matter what I say, it’s going to be wrong.”

Her long sigh was audible over the line. “Darling, let’s start this conversation over. We both love Leila. We’re both very worried about her. I would appreciate it if you would let me know what you find out. And I hope everything turns out for the best, and that she’s safe. And — please don’t take any chances over there, like flying around in some little airplane in bad weather looking for her.”

“I want to make certain they’re doing everything.”

“Please be nice to Jonathan.”

“For God’s sake, Lydia Jean!”

“Don’t try to shut him out. He’s as concerned as you are.”

“I’m not the one who goes around shutting people out.”

“We have such happy talks, don’t we, Sam?”

“So let’s try a new area. An old friend of yours will be looking you up next week.”

“Really? Who?”

“He had the needle out. And he was enjoying it. Maybe you can tell him your troubles.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Big Tom Dorra.”

“Damn you, Sam! Damn you!”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“He is not an old friend and you know it. Do you really think I’d talk to him about us? He is physically repulsive to me. He looks — buttered. And he is absolutely convinced he’s God’s gift to womanhood.”

“You’re a legitimate target, Lyd. You turned yourself into a target by leaving me. So you’ve got to expect Tom Dorras to come around. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Do you think I’m incapable of handling the situation?”

“Does it make any real difference? Tom D. will have a little smirk and a little wink for anybody who asks him if he saw you when he was up in Corpus.”

“So what fools believe is more important to you than what you know is true?”

“A lot of things I thought were true haven’t turned out so good.”

“So I’m supposed to come home just to keep you from feeling inadequate?”

“Honey, I’m adequate. Some day Tom Dorra will sign a testimonial to that effect if anybody asks him to. What’s the matter now?”

“I’m crying. Do I have your permission?”

“For the love of...”

“I don’t want to spoil the Sam Boylston image. Oh God, I thought we were getting somewhere the last time we talked.”