‘Gerry kept piling on the pressure — “I gotta do something about Ferrer, otherwise he’s gonna break my legs” — but still I said no; until, that is, I got news about my mother.’ Her mother had been suffering with diabetes for years, but suddenly it had taken a chronic turn, ‘Something called diabetic nepropathy. Suddenly it was life-threatening, she needed urgent, regular dialysis, the costs were sky-high and she didn’t have medical insurance. And so, despite the risks involved — Gerry maintained there were little or none, Jouliern had it all too well-planned — that thirty to fifty grand started to look like a godsend. My only chance of saving my mother’s life. I finally agreed, said I’d do it.’
Jouliern skimmed from people at the tables who wanted extra chips without going to the chip-cashing booths. ‘It happens a lot apparently if they’re in the middle of a game or a roll and don’t want the delay of cashing at the booths.
‘So they’d be cashed at the table, and at the end of the night Jouliern had the responsibility of taking all the cash from the tables and tallying with the chips provided. At that point, though, he’d pocket some of the cash and feed in chips from his own pocket — there was control of cash in the club, but not chips — and then the extra cash would be left in an envelope under the bar with Gerry.
‘The only problem remaining then was that as part of that cash control at the Bay-Tree, each employee, including Jouliern, was searched going in and out, and was allowed no more than fifty bucks in their pockets. So they needed a courier to get those money envelopes out… which is where yours truly came in.’
‘What, you went every night?’ The first question that Jac had asked.
‘No, three nights a week. All I could manage. And Jouliern kept the skimming light too from the tables, so that the fluctuations wouldn’t show.’ Alaysha shrugged. ‘That no-cash-out policy also gave Gerry some problems in paying Ferrer. Often, the only chance Ferrer would get to collect cash off Gerry was at night at the Bay-Tree. So Gerry would put Ferrer’s money in an envelope with his name on, and tell Security that it was to give to Ferrer later. First couple of times Security said, “Okay, we’ll give it to him ourselves when he calls.” But then when Ferrer complained about one of the payments being light, they said that Gerry could give it to him directly. “Just as long as you know that if he doesn’t call by for it, it stays here with us when you leave. He’ll have to pick it up later.” That was the golden rule — nocash out of the Bay-Tree — no matter the circumstances.’
Alaysha eased out a slow, heavy breath, as if glad she’d finally shared some of the burden. ‘The whole thing went well, no hitches. And everyone was happy: Gerry paid off Ferrer, I saved my mom’s life, and Jouliern… well, he never shared with us why he was doing it.’ She pouted thoughtfully, which eased into a faint smile. ‘Maybe half a million good reasons — because that’s what he ended up getting away with.’
The shadows in her eyes deepened again then, and the smile twisted as she forced a brief, ironic chuckle. ‘Bad choice of words — because in the end it doesn’t look like he got awaywith anything.’ The shadows sunk deeper still, hit something darker, more troubling. Raw fear, panic. ‘You see, ten days or so ago I read in the paper about George Jouliern disappearing. And I thought — Malastra’s found out about the skimming, and it’s only a matter of time before the knock comes on my own door and I’m next to go “missing”.’ Her neck pulsed as she swallowed hard. She held one palm out. ‘That’s why I got the gun from my mom’s. Not so much because of Gerry, but because I feared Malastra’s men would be coming for me.’
Jac nodded slowly. He understood now why she’d done it, probably toowell. If in those last months of his father’s life there’d suddenly been a miracle cure, and at the same time someone had laid on a plate a clean, ingenious robbery to pay for it, with high chances of getting away with it, he’d have gone for it. No question.
He thought it’d be hard to beat his own nightmare dilemma; but hers, possibly on a Malastra hit-list, was equally as crushing. The mention of his father, though, reminded him: look to the positive. ‘How long now since you read about Jouliern disappearing? Ten days or so? Then another four or five days before he’d have been officially reported as missing. At least two weeks. If that knock was going to come on your door, it would have probably happened by now. Chances are Jouliern didn’t say anything about you — they just don’t know.’
‘Or they’re still putting all the pieces together.’
He could see that his words did little to lift the crushing worry from her shoulders, her eyes haunted, looking for solutions that weren’t there, her body trembling as she no doubt thought not just about her own neck, but how little Molly would possibly cope with her gone; Alaysha’s mother now with not many years left to be able to take care of her. He reached one hand out and lightly touched her arm, tried to lift her out of her dark mood.
‘Hey, come on… you know what I’ve said makes a lot more sense than any other scenario.’ Her eyes lifting a bit, a faint, reluctant smile. ‘But, you know, if you’re still worried — just try and keep one step ahead. Stay at your mom’s as much as possible, and when you’re in town, maybe stay at my place. I know it’s only next door — but you can look through the spy-hole and see if anyone suspect is calling at your door. Gives you that extra minute or two to get out or phone for the police, whatever.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’ll probably take you up on that offer.’ She forced a tame smile, then let out a fresh breath. ‘But enough about me. What about you — the fugitive of the hour?’ Her expression became more solemn again. ‘How are you coping, Jac?’
‘Oh, God.’ Jac lifted his eyes heavenward for a second. ‘Where to even start?’ He tried to keep his explanation just to filling in the gaps in what Alaysha probably already knew from Langfranc or news bulletins, so that it wasn’t too rambling. He raised the first full smile from Alaysha as he described walking through Libreville earlier that day disguised as Ayliss, already sweating because he was nervous, and with the unbearable heat of the prison and the extra padding and make-up, it literally pouring off of him. ‘I feared the make-up would start running and half my face would come unstuck and start peeling off. I had to call Morvaun straight after: emergency pit-stop for face maintenance!’ Alaysha was by now openly laughing — it was good to see her like that, Jac thought: the problems hanging over them for a moment forgotten. ‘Morvaun in fact has to follow me round from hotel to hotel, giving me regular patch-ups.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Next one is here tomorrow at seven a.m., before I head out. Meanwhile, you’ll have to answer the door if room-service calls.’
She nodded, her smile fading as she became pensive again. ‘And how did it go with Durrant?’
He sighed heavily before explaining, the images from just over an hour ago burning fresh through his mind: the serge-green safe with a twist lock, just as it had been twelve years ago; apparently it would have been too much upheaval to have it moved or changed. The new owners seemed to remember the bookshelves being on the right-hand side, though the library now was just another bedroom, and the grandfather clock would have obviously been moved along with Roche’s other furniture and possessions, they pointed out. Though at that moment they suddenly recalled the sales brochure Roche’s realtor had done at the time, which they’d kept — and there it was proud in the corner on the hallway shot: a full-length walnut-cased grandfather clock.
Jac shook his head. ‘Everything… everythingmatched Larry’s descriptions from the session. Not a single thing wrong. And it hit me in that moment, Alaysha, harder than ever… he hadto have been there that night. And all this crap with pool buddies and other places he might have been — I’m wasting my time. Have been from day one.’ Jac grimaced awkwardly. ‘Only I didn’t know it until now.’ Jac bit at his bottom lip, but this time as he went to shake his head, it seemed to lock, leave him transfixed, staring into mid-space. ‘And the thing is, I can’t blame or even get annoyed with Larry for it — because he simply can’t remember, doesn’t know whether he was there and killed her or not.’