Sleep No More m-4

by Greg Iles

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Penn said, getting to his feet. “I’m tired of being under a roof.”

  Waters stood too. His muscles felt tight, his joints creaky, and he was glad to follow Penn through the door to the backyard. Washington Street was one of Natchez’s most beautiful thoroughfares, and Penn’s yard was a showplace. There were dogwood and crape myrtle trees, azaleas, rafts of ivy, and perfect circles of monkey grass around the trees. Oddly, there was no division of any kind between Penn’s backyard and the one next door. Together they formed a huge garden with several play areas, and it seemed as though Penn and his neighbor had collaborated to make a fantasyland for children.

  “Who lives over there?” Waters asked, pointing at the three-story town house next door.

  “That’s Caitlin’s house. I had to live somewhere, so I picked the most convenient place.”

  Waters started to smile but didn’t. Caitlin Masters was not only Penn’s girlfriend, but also the publisher of the local newspaper.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Penn said. “Don’t worry. Caitlin and I won’t be exchanging information. Not from me to her, at any rate. We had to deal with this situation on the Del Payton case. It wasn’t a problem.”

  “You didn’t have to say that. But thanks.”

  Penn walked over to a flower bed, knelt, and started pulling up weeds.

  “So,” Waters said, “are you going to tell me about this theory you mentioned?”

  Penn continued to pull weeds. “Do you know why I asked for all the details about you and Mallory?”

  “No.”

  “I wanted to know why you were so susceptible to the things Eve told you.”

  “And now you know?”

  “Yes. I have a lot of thoughts about you and Mallory, actually, but we’ll save those for another time. The bottom line is that Eve didn’t have to try very hard to resurrect Mallory Candler for you, because for you, Mallory never died.”

  Waters didn’t know what to say.

  “Oscar Wilde was firmly convinced that men are the more sentimental sex, and I think he was right. Don’t feel bad. It would probably be easy to do something like this to me, if Lynne Merrill had been murdered ten years ago.”

  “Something like what?”

  Penn looked up from his work like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “John, someone is trying to drive you crazy. Probably someone very close to you.”

  “What?”

  “They may even be trying to frame you for murder. I saw something like this in Houston once. A man married a woman for her money. Not surprisingly, he grew to hate her. He didn’t think he could murder her and get away with her money, so he tried to convince her family that she was insane. And it almost worked.”

  “Who would want to drive me crazy?”

  Penn shrugged. “That shouldn’t be hard to figure out. Who would benefit by your being declared incompetent?”

  An image of Cole Smith came into Waters’s mind.

  “I know that’s an unpleasant line of thought, but you’re in real danger. We have to go to the wall on this. We have to ask everything of everyone. Who’s in a position to blackmail you? Besides Eve Sumner, I mean, since she’s dead. Would anyone benefit if you were to go to prison for murder? And finally, does anyone hate you enough to destroy you simply for revenge?”

  “Jesus.”

  Penn went back to pulling his weeds. “I think we both know who we’re talking about. But let’s follow the logic before we name names. Who could possibly know all the facts that Eve used to convince you she was Mallory?”

  “No one. I’ve been thinking about that for three weeks.”

  “Could two people have pooled what they knew and put together the information Eve had?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What about a diary?”

  “What?”

  “Did Mallory keep a diary? A journal? Something like that?”

  “My God,” Waters thought aloud. “She did keep a diary. She had several, going way back. After the craziness started, I don’t remember seeing them as much. But she could have been writing a lot of that stuff down.”

  “That may be our answer. You need to find out who has those diaries. I’d start with Mallory’s mother.”

  “She won’t talk to me. Certainly not about that.”

  “I might be able to help with that.” Penn yanked out a stubborn weed and tossed it on the ground. “Now, let’s get to the ugly stuff. I hear your partner’s in financial trouble.”

  Waters nodded. “That’s what I hear too.”

  “But not from Cole?”

  “He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.” Waters told Penn about the pumping unit Cole had apparently sold without permission.

  “You’ve got real problems, John.” Penn looked up and smiled. “But they’re worldly problems, okay? Not supernatural ones. That ought to make you feel a little better.”

  Waters felt light-headed. “It does, actually.”

  “Let’s go back to Eve for a second. The way you told it to me, you were unconscious when she died.”

  “As best I can remember.”

  “It’s hard to imagine Cole slipping in and killing her to frame his best friend.”

  “It is.”

  “But he might not be above paying someone to kill Eve, and then framing you. We don’t know what problems he has. How much danger he’s in. I’ve seen things done between lifelong friends that you wouldn’t believe. There is literally no depth to which human beings cannot sink.”

  Waters crouched beside Penn and spoke softly. “Cole offered to give me an alibi for the time of the murder.”

  Penn’s head snapped toward him. “Did you ask him to do that?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Okay. You told me you didn’t use a condom with Eve that night, right?”

  “No.”

  Penn expelled a lungful of air, then stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “You screwed two people when you did that, John. Eve and yourself. Only you’re going to stay screwed. If they put you in that hotel room using DNA, it’ll take the archangel Gabriel to keep the D.A. from nailing you. They could say anything. Eve seduced you, then tried to blackmail you, and you killed her. Or you promised to leave your wife and then reneged. Eve threatened to tell, and you killed her. The scenarios are endless.”

  Waters got to his feet. “You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a lawyer. You have two choices. One: Turn yourself in to the authorities, which I don’t recommend at this juncture.”

  Waters closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

  “Two: Find out who’s trying to turn your life inside out, and nail them before they-or the police-nail you.”

  Penn’s theory, combined with the prospect of action, gave Waters his first real hope since waking up next to Eve’s corpse. “How would you start?”

  “Confront Cole about the pumping unit. Be aggressive. See how he reacts. I’ll do what I can to find out about Mallory’s diaries. We’ll talk again tonight.”

  “What about Tom Jackson? Should I just avoid him? I have no idea what he’s going to ask me.”

  “You went to school with Tom. What do you think about him?”

  “The old cliche. Tough but fair. He’d hate to bust me for murder, but he’d do it.”

  “Do you have your cell phone with you?”

  Waters nodded.

  “Call him right now. If he asks something you’re not sure how to answer, tell him you’re out in the county checking a well, and you’re getting a dropped signal. You’ll call him back when you get in.”

  Penn’s deviousness brought a smile to Waters’s face. He took his phone from his pocket, called the police department, identified himself, and asked for Detective Jackson. After about a minute, Jackson came on the line, his voice deep and seemingly casual.

  “Thanks for calling, John.”

  “Glad to, Tom. What’s up?”

  �
��I’m running down some leads on this Eve Sumner thing. She was a pretty complicated lady, I’m finding out. Anyway, I was down at her office, and they told me you stormed in there a couple of weeks ago and read her the riot act. What was that about?”

  Waters was about to evade the question when Eve’s own lie came back to him. “She was trying to sell my house out from under me. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but she was kind of a pushy lady. She called me at the office and said she’d told some couple they could look through our house, when she knew it wasn’t for sale. That pissed me off.”

  “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.”

  Chapter 13

  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, oka
y! 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.

  “What else have you done? Is this why you didn’t pay the liability premium? You used that money to pay debts?”

  “No.”

  “Am I going to have to audit every goddamn line of our books? Tell me the truth.”

  Cole distended his cheeks like Dizzy Gillespie and expelled air in a repentant rush. “Okay…I was in a bind then too. Not as bad as now, but bad enough. I slid the premium money into a different account and cashed it out.”

  Waters felt like the earth had opened beneath his feet. “Do you realize that I could lose everything because of that? My retirement? Ana’s college money?”

  “Uh-huh,” Cole said in a dead voice. “I’ve agonized over it ever since they found the leak. But goddamn it, John, you put all that at risk yourself when you started screwing Eve. What’s going to happen to them if you go down for murder?”

  “Why would I go down for her murder?”

  Cole’s eyes glinted. “You can’t fool your partner, Rock. I know you were with her that night.”

  “You’re full of shit. What do you think you know?”

  Something like satisfaction crossed Cole’s face. “I know what I know.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “No? Maybe I got curious about why you’d given up your true-blue work ethic after seventeen years. Maybe I followed you for a couple of days. Maybe I saw you go into the Eola to meet Evie. You should have taken me up on that alibi offer.”