Дэвид Балдаччи - Zero Day

They both turned to the plate glass window as a pale silver Mercedes SL600 pulled up in front of the Crib. The top was down and the occupants were clearly revealed.

“Speak of the devil,” said Puller. “That’s your sister driving and your brother riding shotgun.”

As Jean Trent and Randy Cole walked into the Crib, heads at every table turned their way. Jean Trent was dressed in a short dark blue skirt, white sleeveless blouse, and three-inch heels, and her hair, despite the open-top ride in the Benz, looked lovely and her makeup was expertly applied. It was a wave of glamour pouring into the Crib that probably left everyone there, from the working class to the office dwellers, slightly lightheaded. It was as though a movie star had decided to breakfast in Drake, West Virginia.

She smiled and waved to folks at various tables. Randy had none of his cocksure manner from the night before. He slouched and studied the floor. He wore dirty jeans, a white T-shirt with an Aerosmith silkscreen, and a lousy attitude on his features.

Puller studied the pair before rising and waving to them.

“Jean? Over here. We have room.”

“For Chrissakes, Puller,” hissed Cole.

He looked down at her. “You don’t want to catch some more family time?”

Jean and Randy headed toward them. Puller got up so Jean could slide into the booth, and then he sat back down. Randy settled in beside his other sister.

Cole said, “Were you at the gravesites last night? Pretty sure I saw you.”

“Law against it?” her brother mumbled.

Jean said, “I corralled our wayward brother when I was driving into town. Convinced him a meal with his big sister wasn’t a fate worse than death.” She eyed him. “And you look like you could use some meat on your bones,” she added. “You hardly touched your dinner last night.”

“What were you doing at the gravesite?” Cole asked.

“What were you doing there?” he shot back.

“Paying my respects.”

“So was I. You got a damn problem with that?”

“Okay. You don’t have to get all pissed off.”

He looked around. “Can we order some breakfast? I’m hungry.” He rubbed his head.

“Headaches again?” asked Puller.

“What’s it to you?” Randy snapped.

“Just asking. Maybe some food will help.”

Puller raised his hand and waved the waitress over.

After Jean and Randy ordered, Puller lifted his coffee to his lips, took a sip, and set it down. “You really look like you could use a few hours of sack time.”

Randy looked across the table at him. “Thanks for your concern.”

“No concern. Just an observation. You’re a big boy. You can take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, well tell that to my sisters here.”

“That’s what sisters do,” said Puller. “Worry. They worry about their brothers. Then when they get married they worry about their husbands.”

Cole said to her brother, “I don’t even know where you’re living. Do you even have a place to stay or are you just jumping from one friend’s place to the next?”

Randy laughed in a hollow tone. “I don’t have that many friends in Drake.”

“You used to,” said Jean.

“They’ve all grown up, got married, had kids,” said Randy.

“And you could’ve done the same,” said Jean.

Randy eyed her. “Yeah, Jean, you’re right. I could’ve married me a rich fat woman and lived happily ever after in some big house and drive around in some fancy-ass car.”

Jean didn’t even flinch. Puller figured she’d probably heard that one a million times from lots of different people.

“I don’t believe there’re any rich fat women in Drake, Randy,” she said. “And if you’re thinking of changing which side of the plate you hit from, the only rich fat guy in town is taken.”

“Don’t we all know that,” snapped her brother.

Jean smiled. “Sometimes I don’t know why I bother, I really don’t.”

“Never asked you to.”

“Oh come on, Randy. You’re laying a guilt trip on all of us. Slinking around town, never know where you are, you show up looking like shit, take some money, and then slink off again. We wait for you to call, and when you do, we make a fuss over you. You came to dinner last night only because Roger wasn’t there. And you shoot off your mouth, all your sarcastic little quips that you think are so funny. Poor Randy. I bet you just love it, don’t you? Makes up for a life that you just don’t have.”

Puller hadn’t seen that one coming, and apparently neither did Cole. She said reproachfully, “Jean!”

Puller glanced over at Randy, who never took his gaze from Jean. “Keep going, sis, I’m enjoying this.”

Jean said, “I saw him wandering down the road like a lost pup. Gave him a ride in my car. I brought him here to feed him. I’ve offered to get him work. I’ve offered to help him any way I can. And all I get back for that is shit thrown right in my face. And I’m tired of it.”

Her voice had risen steadily to where heads at other tables were turning in their direction and Puller could see folks muttering together.

Cole put a hand on Randy’s arm. “She didn’t mean that.”

Jean exclaimed, “Of course I did. And you would too, if you’d take your head out of the damn sand.”

Randy’s manner suddenly changed. The grin and the confidence came hurtling back. “Hey, Jean, does Roger pay you each time you screw him? Or does he get a volume discount? And after he slaughtered Mom and Dad, did you charge him double to bang you? You know, to show your anger at him wiping out our parents and not giving a shit?”

Jean reached across the table and slapped her brother so hard that Puller saw her wince from the shock of the blow. Randy didn’t show any reaction, even as the skin where she had struck him turned pink and then a dull red.

“Is that the best you got?” said Randy. “All the money has really made you soft.”

He stood. “I got things to do. Hey, Jean, thanks for the ride. Or maybe you should thank Roger for me. It’s his car after all. He owns it, the house, the business and you.” He looked out the window at the Benz. “That model’s looking a little old, sis. Rog might be looking to trade it in. He’s gone so much, makes you wonder. Didn’t know coal men needed to fly off on their fancy jets all that much. And despite all your working out and dieting, a little too much alcohol and birthing two kids is taking its toll. Now don’t get me wrong. You’re still nice-looking. And Roger is fat and ugly. But the rules are different for men and women. They’re not fair rules, but they are the rules. And whoever has the gold makes the rules. And that would be Roger. Now you have a good day, big sister.”

Randy turned and walked away. As Puller watched he high-fived a couple of guys in one booth and then slammed the door on his way out.

He turned to Jean, who just sat there looking as stunned as she probably felt.

Cole said, “Both of you said things you didn’t mean.”

“I meant every word I said,” replied Jean. “And Randy did too,” she added quietly. She looked back out the window, at the car. Puller could see the thoughts running through her mind like frames from a film. Where was Roger right now? Was he thinking about trading her in?

Cole reached over and took her hand. “Jean, what Randy said was bullshit.”

“Was it?” her sister snapped.

Cole looked down.

Jean glanced at Puller. “What do you think? You’re supposed to be a great detective.”

Puller shrugged. “I can’t read people’s minds, Jean. But if your husband cheats on you then you sue his ass for divorce and end up with as much of the gold as your lawyers can get. Since you married him before he struck it rich I assume there’s no prenup.”