Jeff Abbott - Black Joint Point

The bottle of Glenfiddich had been from a Stoney. Maybe interesting, maybe not.

He thought of the skeletons. ‘Patch ever mention any archaeological value to the land?’

Suzanne didn’t answer for a second and he wondered if she knew about the bones. David and the DPS team had kept it out of the papers thus far. But a freakish detail like that was hard to muzzle with so many people now involved. She stubbed out her cigarette, glanced up at him through the trail of smoke. ‘An archaeologist wouldn’t find anything except old dead Gilberts and their junk.’

‘No earlier settlement on the land?’

‘Indians must have passed through or hunted there, I guess. Black Jack Point’s always been wild country, though. I don’t think anyone else ever built there but us crazy Gilberts.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘Speaking of crazy Gilberts, what do you see in Lucy? Do you mind me asking? Yes, she’s very pretty but she’s very contrary and a bit too high-maintenance.’

‘She drives me nuts. She makes me laugh. She makes me think. For me that’s pretty good.’

‘Laughing is good. Sexy.’ Her voice went a little lower.

‘I bet Roy’s a real giggle factory.’

‘He can be very sweet,’ she said, letting her smile grow. ‘But I do bore easily.’

‘I’m allergic to paint,’ he said. ‘I’d like to talk to Roy now.’

Her smile – more carefully crafted than her paintings – went flat. ‘Sure.’

They returned to the den. Roy lay sprawled on the couch, drinking a fresh bottle of Dos Equis, watching Jeopardy! He didn’t look up at Whit.

‘Roy, Whit needs to talk to you,’ Suzanne said.

‘I barely knew Patch. What is the Tower of Pisa?’ he said to the television, playing Architecture for $200. He was right.

‘It took a lot of strength to beat a man like Patch to death,’ Whit said.

Roy Krantz didn’t take his eyes off the screen. ‘Probably not. What is photosynthesis? You dumb asses.’

Whit leaned down, grabbed the remote, cut off the television in the middle of Botany for $600. ‘Pardon me. I’m speaking to you. As part of a death inquest. If you don’t want to answer questions here, you do it in a courtroom.’

Roy stood. Whit was tall but this guy was an oak. ‘I told you, I don’t know shit. And I don’t like to miss my program.’

‘Roy.’ Suzanne shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, baby.’ For the first time Whit saw tenderness in Roy’s sun-hardened face. ‘Sorry. Okay.’ He crossed his arms. ‘I never got to know him, Judge. He decided in the first ten seconds of our acquaintance I was trash. So we declined to occupy the same place at the same time.’

‘Let’s talk prison records.’

Roy walked into the kitchen, got another beer, offered a bottle to Whit. Whit shook his head. ‘I ran some dope for a school buddy, I got caught, I cut a little deal, school buddy didn’t. I did a short stint and I’ve been spotless. Now I got my life back together here with Suze, doing my art, and people just want to piss in my beer.’

‘Y’all do much gambling?’ Whit asked.

Roy glanced at Suzanne and she said, ‘Lucy.’ He glanced back at Whit with a smirk. ‘Actually, we do, and we have the means to and we’re not in over our heads. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to anyone that maybe Mrs Tran was the target, not Patch. You grilling her family like this?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘You come after me just because I got a record, that’s the easy thing to do. Just as easy to get yourself sued for false arrest. For reporters to get a call to say some poor ex-con who’s become a model citizen is getting hassled. You can’t fucking bully people, man.’

‘I didn’t realize you felt bullied by me,’ Whit said. ‘Please don’t cry.’

Roy took a step forward. Suzanne put a hand on his thick forearm. ‘Roy. Don’t let him bait you.’

‘I’m not baiting anyone,’ Whit said. ‘Thanks for your time. I can see myself out. I’ll let you know if you’re needed to testify at the inquest.’

Whit drove out of Castaway Key. He remembered the time the land had been developed, this thin sliver of near-island, when he was a teenager. Once this was rough country, not too different from the Gilbert land, thick with salt grass, jutting out into shallow water with a handpainted sign that read PLEASE DON’T PET THE RATTLERS. And how much is this land worth now? Whit wondered. Millions. So how much is that family land really worth to Suzanne Gilbert? Or maybe to her way-smarter-than-he-looks boyfriend?

He didn’t want to think about how much it might be worth to Lucy.

Claudia wriggled her head through the open porthole, attempted to snake her body through. She eased one shoulder out. She turned, trying to navigate her head and the other shoulder out, but the opening was too narrow and the ropes, tight already, chafed hard, gouged her legs. She was angry enough to cry hot tears, and she hated to cry.

The heavy blindfold slipped around her neck like a loose scarf. Shit. No getting that back over my eyes. That’s probably worth a whole foot of broken toes.

She pulled herself back in. A knot of rope caught on the porthole crank. Not good, not good. She caught her breath, eased herself free, and fell back against the bed. She tried to maneuver the blindfold back into place but she couldn’t; her hands couldn’t push it up far enough to cover her eyes and all her wriggling had loosened the knot too much.

She heard Stoney’s shocked drawl over the speaker-phone. ‘I’ll give you the money. Okay? But these other items you’re asking for, I don’t have, please.’

Gar said, ‘Number one,’ and Ben screamed.

‘That was finger number one,’ Gar said. ‘Broke it. A pinky. You keep arguing I’ll cut it off.’

‘I don’t have what you want!’ Stoney said.

‘Let’s accelerate. I vote to cut off the brother’s dick,’ Redhead said with a giggle. ‘Where did I put those scissors…?’

‘No, leave him alone!’ Stoney yelled.

‘We will,’ Danny said. Claudia could hear the distaste in his voice. ‘If you play along. First the five million.’

‘Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,’ Stoney moaned.

‘Got your pen ready, sunshine?’ Redhead said. ‘Put a half million in this account in Grand Cayman.’ He read off an account number. ‘That’s at the Great Commerce Bank of Grand Cayman. Move that first, will you?’

Stoney made a noise of unhappy agreement.

‘Don’t whine,’ Redhead said. ‘Then another half million in this bank in Anguilla. Here’s the account number…’

More accounts, more banks, the slow carving of Stoney’s fortune. Claudia gritted her teeth.

‘Now. The journal and the Devil’s Eye,’ Danny said. ‘You’re going to take them to Staples Mall in Corpus. Tomorrow at eight a.m., when the mall opens for the elderly mall walkers. Go to the carousel at the middle of the mall. Leave the journal and the emerald in a Sears bag, each wrapped in plain brown paper and covered with a couple of paperbacks. You’ll put the bag underneath the gray horse with the white mane, the red saddle and the bright blue ribbons. If the police are there, or I don’t like how anything looks, your brother and his girlfriend die and I report the murder you committed to the New Orleans police. We get to that point, I don’t care what happens to me. But you, you’re finished.’

There was a long silence. Stoney Vaughn finally said, ‘I don’t know how long this transfer will take. After it goes through the banks in Houston we may not have immediate confirmation, and I’m not at my office right now…’

‘We check with Grand Cayman here shortly, and you better hope that money’s streaming in,’ Redhead said.