Greg Iles - Sleep No More

“I can see how it would,” Jackson said. “She pissed off a lot of people doing that kind of thing. Anything else you can tell me about her?”

“No. You guys got any suspects?”

A long silence. “We’re working it hard. That’s about all I can tell you.”

Waters felt himself sweating. “Well, good luck, Tom. Call me if I can do anything else for you.”

“I will. Thanks.”

As Waters hung up, Penn said, “You handled that smoothly. Maybe a little too smoothly.”

“Shit, what was I supposed to say?”

“I’m just kidding. Hey, remember you told me you felt like the senator in The Godfather Part II ? He went to bed with a laughing girl and woke up with a dead whore?”

“Yeah.”

“The senator didn’t kill that girl. He was framed by the Corleones, who later gave him his alibi.”

Waters felt a chill as he thought again of Cole. “You’re right. I didn’t think it through that far.”

“It’s hard to think when you believe you just committed murder.”

Waters nodded.

Penn brushed off his hands. “It’s time to start thinking again, paisan. ”

Driving south on Highway 61, Waters was nearly to the Saragossa Country Club when his cell phone rang. What would be a normal occurrence for most people sent a spasm of shock along his body. Eve might be dead, but the sound of his cell phone instantly resurrected her. He checked the LCD, half expecting it to read PAY PHONE, but instead he saw his wife’s cell phone number.

“Hey.”

“Where are you?” Lily asked.

“On my way to Saragossa for lunch. I’m going to meet Cole out there.” Actually Cole had no idea he was coming. “How’s your day?”

“Fine. Ana’s staying over at Lindsey’s tonight.”

Lindsey was a classmate who lived in one of the white-flight neighborhoods that had sprung up around the country club. “On a school night?”

“Tomorrow’s Lindsey’s birthday, so I said it was all right.”

“Okay.”

“Besides, that gives us some more time together.”

Waters had thought last night’s lovemaking an anomaly, despite Lily’s professed commitment to change. “That’s true,” he said neutrally.

“Have you checked your voice mail?”

“No.”

“You should. I haven’t left a message like that in a while. I’ll see you later on. Or call me, if you like the mail.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I love you.”

“You too,” he said, nonplussed by her forwardness.

He clicked off and punched in the code for his voice mail.

“It’s just me,” said Lily. “I’m not calling to ask you to pick up something at the store or bug you about some household junk. I’m calling to tell you I wish you were inside me right now.”

Waters swallowed. Lily had not done anything like this for years.

“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. That’s what I’m thinking about right now. What we did last night. And I’m touching myself. I wish you could do this for me. Mmm. If you were, you’d know I’m telling the truth. Well…I hope you get home soon.”

He hung up and made the turn into Saragossa. As the clubhouse came into sight, he decided not to call Lily back. He was glad she was making an effort to close the distance that had separated them for so long, but he simply didn’t know how to respond.

He parked the Land Cruiser and walked through the front doors, then headed to the card room. Cole didn’t play golf anymore; he played gin or Bouree.

Waters found him sitting at a table with three men ranging in age from thirty to sixty. All four had stiff drinks in front of them. On any given day you could find the same crew here, talking, drinking, and gambling. If there was a game on TV, there would be money riding on that as well. Waters couldn’t imagine wasting his life this way, but he knew that men like Cole didn’t really have a choice. They followed their appetites, their appetites led them this way, and that was that.

“Rock!” Cole called. “You come out to play a few hands with us?”

“No. I need to talk to you for a minute. We’ve got some problems with a flow line in Jefferson County.”

“Flow line? What are you talking about?”

Waters jerked his head to the side, leaving no doubt that he wanted privacy. Cole stared at him for a few moments, then said, “Deal me out for a hand, guys. Duty calls.”

The other players grunted, and Cole got up and followed Waters through a side door that opened near the putting green. A retired surgeon was practicing there, so Waters walked out of earshot, Cole wheezing along behind him. They had taken walks like this many times, but always as brothers in arms, discussing strategy on deals they were putting together. Now events had divided them. Waters could feel it in his bones. Cole might not be his enemy, but a chasm had opened between them. When he stopped and turned by an iron bench, Cole squinted against the sunlight, then raised his right hand to protect his eyes.

“You wouldn’t drive out here over any damn flow line,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Didn’t you tell me it’s not a good idea to keep things from your partner?”

Cole’s neck tensed with the effort of remaining expressionless. “That’s right.”

“I hear we sold our three-twenty pumping unit off the Madam X well.”

Cole’s mouth opened slightly; then he drew back his head as if expressing shock at a gross misunderstanding. “Rock, we’ve talked a half dozen times about replacing that old three-twenty.”

“In a couple of years, maybe.”

Cole tilted his head to the side and pooched out his bottom lip. “Well, that’s a difference of opinion.”

“One I wasn’t aware of.”

“Look, am I in charge of that workover or not?”

“You were until today. But if you don’t give me some straight answers, you’re not going to be in charge of jack shit.”

His face reddening, Cole stepped forward like he meant to deck Waters. Instead, he looked at the ground and shook his head.

“Look, goddamn it. I just needed a few thousand to tide me over. I was going to replace the unit in a couple of weeks.”

This was a ludicrous statement, but it served as an admission of guilt. “Jesus, Cole, what about the fifty I lent you the other day?”

“I told you I needed seventy-five!”

“What the hell are you into? Is this gambling debt or what?”

Cole stared off over the eighteenth fairway. “Yeah.”

“Football? What?”

“Mostly football. Some high-stakes poker from the last trip Jenny and I took to Vegas. The vig on that is pretty tough. You know how it is. I tried to make back what I owed by going for broke.” Momentary excitement flashed in Cole’s eyes. “I had a sure thing, Rock. The Tulane-Ole Miss game. I had the inside poop from the team doctor. A guy in New Orleans clues me in-”

“But he was wrong, right?”

Cole shrugged. “I just didn’t catch the right spread.”

“Would you listen to yourself? You’ll never get out of the hole like that.”

“Shit, I know. I’m like a drunk with the gambling.”

“You’re like a drunk with the scotch too.”

Cole whipped up his arm. “Get off me, okay! You were screwing the local slut because she told you she was your dead girlfriend. That’s necrophilia, man.”

Waters felt his hands go cold. He wanted to scream back that he knew it was all a scam, that Cole and Eve were behind the whole thing, but he would not let his partner sidetrack him. He needed to get all the information he could. After today, the only communication he had with his partner might be through attorneys.