Jan Burke - Remember Me, Irene

“No parents?”

“Her parents were dead. I heard…I heard that a brother was looking for her, but she had been gone a long time by then.”

“Where do you think she is?”

“I don’t know! We didn’t see what happened to her or the bag.” He paused. “Roland picked us out to be his business associates because we were the kind of people who didn’t have to be told things,” he added bitterly. “To Roland, this was business.”

“You didn’t see anything, but you were there.”

“It was a lesson. He taught us what happens to spoilsports.”

“What happens to spoilsports?”

His voice was no more than a dry whisper. “They don’t make it back to shore.”

“They killed her.”

“Yes, I think they did.”

“You think?”

When he didn’t answer, I reached into my purse and found the cocktail napkin he had left behind at the Terrace. “The night of Moffett’s dinner, you wrote the letter N on a cocktail napkin. Nadine, right?”

He nodded.

“She’s haunting you, Keene. Admit it. You only ‘think’ they killed her?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not true. I know they did.”

I had figured that Nadine Preston was living in high style somewhere far from Las Piernas. What had happened to her shouldn’t have been surprising. She was a schemer and a blackmailer. A foolish one, out of her league. There was nothing to admire in her, but I couldn’t help but feel outraged on her behalf. And truthfully, I was no less angry that Andre had fondled her, had made a spectacle of his pretended passion for her, knowing all the while that he would take part in her death. As I thought about Keene’s story, I found myself concentrating on details, trying to prevent myself from becoming as nauseated as Ben had been that day.

“You’ve known these men for years. Who do you think actually killed her?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot. You want my best guess? Selman.”

“Why?”

“Roland would never let Selman have that kind of power over him. Selman benefitted, but he didn’t control. Roland controlled us all. After that, he never had to worry again that anyone would break ranks. He had us all by the balls and he knew it. He kept up his side of the deal. We made our profits. But it had changed.”

“I don’t understand how it’s possible that all of you stayed silent all this time.”

“What you think someone might have done, and what you know they’ve done-those are two different things.”

“Suspicion of murder, Keene, not anything less. If one of you had stood up and said you suspected murder, maybe her brother wouldn’t still be wondering where she is.”

“And maybe six other people would have said she was alive and well two days after you said she was dead. Or they might have said you were the last one anyone saw her with. Or maybe everyone would have shrugged and said, ‘We don’t know what happened to her,’ but you wouldn’t be doing business in Las Piernas.”

“How did Roland know he could count on you?”

“I’ve thought about that myself. I’ve had to. The easiest answer I can give you is that Roland knew who he was dealing with-from the beginning. You dated Selman at one time, right?”

“Yes.”

“All those women-some guys look at him and say, ‘He’s got to have some kind of touch.’ Do you think Selman had some magic power over people? I mean, actual voodoo or something?”

“No, but I think I see where you’re headed with this. He picks his victims.”

“Right. He doesn’t get there without the woman’s cooperation. He knows her better than she knows herself-that’s the key. Makes a woman feel mad at herself afterward, maybe, but the truth is, you probably didn’t stand a chance.”

“Played with fire and got burned,” I said. “That’s all.”

“But the first time you see fire-especially if you’ve been in the cold and dark up until then-it’s damned inviting, isn’t it? We wouldn’t even have that saying if there weren’t lots of people walking around with their fingers singed.”

“So you’re saying Roland knew that you’d all keep your mouths shut.”

“Roland knew that, and we each knew Roland wouldn’t have invited a man into his inner circle unless that were true. If you didn’t have the makings of a good conspirator, you weren’t going to be asked to the dance. You had to have a real talent for whatever it was you did, but you also had to be someone who wouldn’t get too big for his britches, who’d keep his mouth shut, who was climbing, maybe needed something-and you had to be greedy. But above all? You had to be someone who wanted to feel like he was an important man around town.”

He paused, then said, “Weaknesses and strengths. Roland is like Selman in that way. He knew more about us than we knew about ourselves. But he’s smarter than Andre, and even Andre knows it. Andre takes all he can get; Roland knows what he can take and who he can take it from, but he doesn’t take too much.”

“Murder was not too much?”

“Apparently not, right? You know what I think? I think that was Selman’s idea, start to finish. But it would have been Roland who said who should stay on shore. Being a party to it would be hardest on me and Corbin and Ben. Selman, Moffett, they don’t give a shit about anybody.”

“What about Booter?”

“Booter? What a joke-he’s the monkey they make those ‘See No Evil’ statues from.”

“I’d think you’d be the biggest risk.”

“Maybe. But then, maybe not. Corbin and Ben, they were probably doing the same thing I was doing. Probably at least once a day, they’d look in the mirror and say, ‘Maybe I’ll have the balls to do it today. I’ll tell Roland to shove it up his ass. I’ll come clean.’ And you know what that mirror answers back? ‘Who are you trying to kid, you big phony?’”

He sighed. “The best design I ever saw Corbin Tyler come up with was right after that trip. He wasn’t sleeping. Stayed up all night, night after night, working on it. It was magnificent. The Haimler Building-you know it?”

I nodded.

“I admired that set of plans,” Keene said. “I told him so. You know what he said? ‘I had to do something I’d be proud of.’ I knew exactly what he meant. Exactly. So I put my heart and soul into building it.”

I considered what he had said. “You’re talking to me now. Maybe your reflection was wrong.”

He smiled a little. “I wouldn’t bet on it. I’m doing this in a pretty chickenshit fashion.”

We were quiet again.

“I think Lucas was murdered,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” He shifted a little.

“You do, too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know how they did it-I didn’t even like to think it could be murder at first-but it was just too convenient, you know? And after the lady at the shelter got hurt, I said to myself, ‘Keene, someone is shutting people up.’”

“It’s why you’re talking to me.”

“Yes. Maybe whoever did this to Lucas and the shelter lady will come after me and Corbin. Ben killed himself, but Corbin and I, we aren’t the type for that. Not so obliging. Still, no one’s been arrested yet, so I’m not feeling so safe.”

I had no argument to give him. “What is it you think I can do for you?”

“If something happens to me,” he said, “I don’t want them to get away with it. I don’t want my kids to find out what I’ve done, but I’d rather have that than just go quietly, if you know what I mean. I go, this whole thing is blown wide open.”

I looked at him sharply. “You’re planning to use me as your triggering device.”

He nodded.

“And you plan to let them know that?”