"Why?"
"Because he had me tailed. I've known for a long time that the Partin brat's one of his snitches. It's how he pays the rent while he's waiting for bit parts in soaps, TV commercials, and underwear ads. Obviously, Sparacino was getting suspicious of me."
"Why would he send Partin? Wouldn't he realize you'd recognize him?"
"Sparacino isn't aware that I know about Partin," he said. "Point is, when I saw Partin in the restaurant, I knew Sparacino had sent him to make sure I was really meeting with you, to see what I was up to, just like he sent the so-called Jeb Price to ransack your office."
"Are you going to tell me Jeb Price is a starving actor, too?"
"No. We arrested him in New Jersey last week. He won't be bothering anybody for a while."
"And I suppose your knowing Diesner in Chicago was also a lie," I said.
"He lives in legend. But I've never met the man."
"And I suppose your coming to see me in Richmond was a setup, too, wasn't it?"
I fought back tears.
Refilling our wineglasses, he replied, "I wasn't really driving in from D.C. I'd just flown in from New York. Sparacino sent me to pick your brain, find out everything he could about Beryl's murder."
I sipped my wine, silent for a moment as I tried to regain my composure.
Then I asked, "Is he somehow involved in her murder, Mark?"
"At first that worried me," he answered. "If nothing else, I wondered if Sparacino's games with Harper had gone too far, if Harper had gone haywire and murdered Beryl. But then Harper was murdered, and as time went by, I failed to pick up on anything that would make me think Sparacino was connected with their deaths. I think he wanted me to find out everything I could about Beryl's murder because he was paranoid."
"Was he worried the police would have gone through her office, that maybe it would come out that her royalty statements were fraudulent?" I asked.
"Maybe. I do know he wants her manuscript. No question of its value. But beyond that, I'm not sure."
"What about his lawsuit, his vendetta against the attorney general?"
"It's generated a lot of publicity," Mark replied. "And Sparacino despises Ethridge, would be delighted if he could humiliate him or even run him out of office."
"Scott Partin has been down here," I informed him. "He was down here not long ago asking questions about Beryl."
"Interesting" was all he said, taking another bite of steak.
"How long have you been connected with Sparacino?"
"More than two years."
"Lord," I said.
"The Bureau set it up very carefully. I was sent in as a lawyer named Paul Barker looking for work, looking to get rich quick. I went through the moves necessary to make him hook into me. Of course he checked me out, and when certain details didn't add up, he finally confronted me. I admitted I was living under an assumed name, that I was part of the Federal Protected Witness Program. It's convoluted and difficult to explain, but Sparacino believed I had been involved in illegal activities in a former life in Tallahassee, had gotten nailed, and that the Feds had rewarded me for my testimony by fictionalizing my identity and my past."
"Had you been involved in illegal activities?" I asked.
"No."
"Ethridge is of the opinion that you have been," I said. "That you've also served time in prison."
"I'm not surprised, Kay. The federal marshals tend to be very cooperative with the Bureau. On paper, the Mark James you once knew looks pretty bad. A lawyer who crossed over, was disbarred, and spent two years in the pen."
"Am I to assume that Sparacino's connection with Orndorff amp; Berger is a front?"
I asked.
"Yes."
"For what, Mark? There must be more to it than his publicity scams."
"We are convinced he has been laundering money for the mob, Kay. Money from narcotics trafficking. We also believed he is tied in with organized crime in the casinos. Politicians are involved, judges, other attorneys. The network is unbelievable. We've known it for quite a while, but it's dangerous business when one part of the criminal justice system attacks another. We had to have admissible evidence of guilt. That's why I was sent in. The more I uncovered, the more there was. Three months turned into six, and then it became years."
"I don't understand. His firm is legitimate, Mark."
"New York is Sparacino's own little country. He has power. Orndorff amp;. Berger knows very little about what he does. I've never worked for the firm. They don't even know my name."
"But Sparacino does," I pressed him. "I heard him refer to you as Mark."
"Yes, he knows my real name. As I've said, the Bureau was very careful. They did quite a good job of rewriting my life, of creating a paper trail that makes the Mark James you once knew someone you wouldn't recognize, much less like."
He paused, his face grim. "Sparacino and I agreed that he would refer to me as Mark in your presence. The rest of the time I was Paul. I worked for him. For a while I lived with his family. I was his loyal son, or at least this is what he thought."
"I know Orndorff amp; Berger never heard of you," I confessed. "I tried to call you in New York and Chicago, and they didn't know who I was talking about. I called Diesner. He didn't know who you were, either. I may not make a good fugitive, but you make an equally poor spy."
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "The Bureau had to bring me in, Kay. You came on the scene, and I took a lot of chances. I got emotionally involved because you were involved. I was stupid."
"I don't know how I'm suppose to respond to that."
"Drink your wine and watch the moon rise over Key West. That's the best way to respond."
"But, Mark," I said, and by now I was hopelessly caught up in him, "there's one very important point I don't understand."
"I'm quite sure there are any number of points you don't understand and may never understand, Kay. We have a lot of life between us that can't be spanned in an evening."
"You said Sparacino sicced you on me to pick my brain. How did he know you were acquainted with me? Did you tell him?"
"He introduced you into a conversation right after we heard about Beryl's murder. He said you were the medical examiner, the chief in Virginia. I panicked. I didn't want him messing with you. I decided it would be better if I did it instead."
"I appreciate the chivalry," I said ironically.
"And you should."
His eyes were on mine. "I told him we had dated in a former life. I wanted him to turn you over to me. And he did."
"And that's the whole of it?" I said.
"I would like to think so, but I'm afraid my motives may have been mixed."
"Mixed?"
"I think I was enticed by the possibility of seeing you again."
"So you've said."
"I wasn't lying."
"Are you lying to me now?"
"I swear to God I'm not lying to you now," he said.
I suddenly realized I was still dressed in a polo shirt and shorts, my skin sticky, my hair a mess. I excused myself from the table and went into the bathroom. Half an hour later, I was swathed in my favorite terrycloth robe, and Mark was sound asleep on top of my bed.
He groaned and opened his eyes when I sat down beside him.
"Sparacino's a very dangerous man," I said, slowly running my fingers through his hair.
"No question about it," Mark said sleepily.
"He sent Partin. I'm not sure I understand how he knew that Beryl was ever down here."
"Because she called him from down here, Kay. He's known it all along."
I nodded, not really surprised. Beryl may have depended on Sparacino to the bitter end, but she must have begun to distrust him. Otherwise she would have left her manuscript with him and not in the hands of a bartender named PJ.
"What would he do if he knew you were here?" I asked quietly. "What would Sparacino do if he knew you and I were together in this room having this conversation?"
"Be jealous as hell."