Randy White - Black Widow

“You’re going to deny everything?”

“I didn’t know I was on the witness stand. Along with my great sense of humor, Shay also forgot to tell you I’m not known for my patience. No more questions until you get your facts straight-okay, Michael?”

“Patience? It was never mentioned. But I heard about the dangerous temper.”

“Dangerous? Me? That’s funny; not something I often hear-I look through a microscope for a living. Maybe a rumor like that will improve my image.”

Jonquil said, “You have no image, Dr. Ford.” Seeing my reaction, he added quickly, “Mother doesn’t hire local hacks when she needs a private investigator. She uses a London agency with contacts at Interpol, and probably organizations they’d never admit. Your name was red-flagged because almost no information was available. What was the term…? A significant pattern of chronological gaps. Yes, it was highlighted. The investigator used an interesting phrase. He said you were like a ghost in front of a mirror.”

I replied, “Selling marine specimens to schools isn’t a high-profile occupation. That’s why I like it. It’s not because I have something to hide.”

Jonquil was shaking his head. “You may look like a college professor, but I’m willing to bet you deal in more than microscopes and fish. Haven’t you wondered why Shay didn’t ask you to give her away at the wedding? It’s because she feels there’s a potential for embarrassment- violence, too. You scare her.”

“Shay would never say that about me.”

Jonquil’s amused expression read, Didn’t she? But he replied, “She didn’t have to. You caught Vance in your house this morning. He told me about it. You scared the shit out him-and not because you almost broke his arm. When the police took him in, they didn’t scare him as much as you did. I’m not condemning you; I admire you for it. Dr. Ford, what you don’t understand is, I don’t want Mother to find out the truth about Saint Arc. I want the whole goddamn problem to go away. I’m offering to help.”

The profanity sounded out of character. So did his earnest manner.

I said, “The only problem you have is your pal Vance. He has a personality disorder. He invents stories to justify his behavior. Tell your mother that.”

“He’s a liar, sure. Vance lies so often that it’s easy for someone who knows him to spot the truth. His wife did get an e-mail demanding more money. The videotape’s real. Shay won’t discuss it, and I wouldn’t allow Mother to question her because of the accident. But Mother will. That’s why I’m asking you to level with me.”

His mother-why did he keep referring to his mother? There are people so poisonous that prolonged exposure ensures contamination; their unhappiness is shared by osmosis. She was that type, apparently.

I said, “I have leveled with you. Now you should stand up like a big boy and tell your mother to mind her own business. Doesn’t it bother Shay that she’s the only one with balls in your relationship?”

The man’s eyes glowed, his nostrils widened. He had a temper, too. Before he got it under control, he said, “If you’re not smart enough to read between the lines, I’ll make it easy. I don’t care about what’s on the tape. The girls went away for the weekend and had fun. Good! What’s the term? Sport-fucking? Shay spent a night with some island jock she’ll never see again. Who cares? I’m not an insecure man. Apparently you can’t relate. I spent summers living in France, so I don’t have all the American hang-ups about monogamous sex.”

I said, “Shouldn’t the German army get credit for that?”

For an instant, I thought he was going to take a swing at me. “This isn’t a joke, goddamn it! I don’t want my mother to find out the truth because she’ll sabotage the wedding. I love Shay. I want to protect her. If there are men on Saint Arc who are blackmailing her? Personally-” Jonquil’s voice dropped. “I think they should be dealt with privately. I think they should be… put away.”

“Put away?” I said it slowly, gauging his reaction. “Jailed, you mean.”

“No. I mean put away-permanently. My family’s done business in the Caribbean for years. There’s no justice on an island like Saint Arc unless you buy it. I’m willing to buy it. I’ll pay the right man to do whatever needs to be done. Or to arrange it-I don’t care how.”

I glanced at the Mercedes, forty yards away. I looked toward the marina. Lots of empty cars on the shell lane; a few people on the other side of the gate, but none close enough to hear.

I said, “Michael, you watch too many movies.”

He leaned closer, his pale eyes focused. “I am totally serious. I have the money. A hundred thousand dollars. A hundred and a half? What’s the going rate? I don’t want that video hanging over our heads after we’re married. I’m running for the Florida House, for Christ’s sake!”

Suddenly, I understood. I had warned Shay about what the video could do to the man’s political career. But he seemed unconcerned what it could do to Shay’s career.

I knew what he was suggesting. But I had to ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to convince Shay she can trust me with the truth-”

“I see!” My tone said bullshit.

“-and because I think you’re the man for the job. You’re the closest thing Shay has to family. You can be trusted. And she’s talked about you enough that we both understand you’re not in a… a conventional line of work.”

I laughed, my tone now saying, I can’t believe this.

“I’ll pay you a hundred and fifty thousand cash, plus expenses. Plus whatever else you need. We have a corporate jet. We’re vested in a company that owns part of a marina and resort on Saint Lucia-that’s only a few miles from Saint Arc. Fly in, take care of business, fly out.

“Ford-” He reached to put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go with you. Some son of a bitch is hurting the woman I’m going to marry. I would do anything to protect her.”

I rolled my shoulder to free myself of his hand. “As a wedding present, I’ll pretend we never had this conversation. I’m a marine biologist. That’s all. My research takes me to a lot of places, including the Eastern Caribbean. It’s a coincidence. Give Vance credit-he used what I do to make up one hell of a story.”

“Damn it, Ford, at least consider my offer!”

I shook my head. “Your mother’s waiting.”

As Jonquil and his mother pulled away in the Mercedes, I was thinking, Private jet? It was exactly what I needed. There were a couple of private airstrips on Saint Lucia, and at least one on Saint Arc.

But I couldn’t risk accepting the guy’s offer. Professionals only deal with professionals. Michael Jonquil was a rich kid, adult-phase. He was believable. Maybe he had a good heart. Maybe he really wanted to protect Shay-and his career, too, of course.

But it was also possible he was baiting me. If I agreed to go after the blackmailer, it proved the blackmailer and the video existed. A backdoor way of confirming his fiance had been unfaithful.

If I’d gotten into the Mercedes, would his mother have made the same offer? I gave it some thought-hide a tape recorder under the seat and hope I jumped at the money. Why else insist I get in the car?

The woman was a puppeteer. If the offer was her idea, I’d find out soon enough.

I ducked through mangroves to get around the marina gate. Mack locks the thing every Friday at closing time. It’s become ceremony. The gate keeps the outside world out, while sealing visitors and live-aboards in. The sense of security it creates encourages excess in all forms.

After the last twenty-four hours, fun and excess seemed well-deserved. But I also reminded myself that locking locals and visitors into a space with narrow docks and unlimited beer could be volatile.