'You think he is?'
'If I knew I wouldn't have to put the arm on my friends for free information, would I?'
Poitras said, 'Free?'
A kidder, that Lou.
He said, 'I'll call you later.' Then he hung up.
I pushed back in my chair, put my feet up, and thought about Wilson Brownell and Clark Hewitt, and why Clark would risk returning to Seattle where both the Russian mob and the federal marshals were looking for him. It was obvious that Brownell and Clark were more than just friends. Brownell had probably taught Clark everything he knew about printing money, which is probably how Clark had gotten involved with the Markovs. If Clark was willing to risk going back to Seattle to see Brownell, it had to be because Brownell knew or possessed something that Clark needed, and that suggested Clark 's new business plan probably involved counterfeiting. Clark might be goofy, but he probably wouldn't risk getting tagged by the Russians just to pal around with an old bud. Maybe Brownell was even going into business with him.
I pulled out the two one-hundred-dollar bills that Teresa had given me and examined them. They were older bills, well worn and used, and they looked fine to me. I rubbed at the ink and held them to the light and examined the paper. They still looked fine, but I wasn't an expert.
I put them away and leaned back again when two men came through the outer door. The first guy was tall and black, with a shiny bald head and a plain navy suit and a grim demeanor. The second guy might've been a fashion model posing as a cutting-edge corporate executive. He was in his late thirties and in good shape, with immaculate dark hair and a conservative Brooks Brothers suit. I smiled when I saw the black guy because he was the same guy I'd seen in the gray LeBaron outside Teri Hewitt's house. I smiled wider when I saw a thick bandage on the back of his left hand, and I kept smiling as I reached under my jacket, took out the Dan Wesson, and pointed it at them.
The white guy said, 'You won't need that.' He had a light southern accent, and he didn't seem concerned about the gun.
I said, 'That's up to you. We might be here a while waiting for the police.'
The black guy closed the door and leaned against it. I guess he wanted to make sure I couldn't escape.
The white guy inspected my office. He looked at the figurines, and the Pinocchio clock, and then the picture of Lucy Chenier. Especially the picture of Lucy. I said, 'None of it's for sale. You want to tell me why you were in my house, or should I just start shooting?'
The white guy turned away from the picture. Now he was inspecting me.
I said, 'Pal, it's been a rough couple of days and I'm feeling a mite testy.'
He smiled, like me being testy was just what he wanted. He said, 'This is my associate, Mr. Epps. My name is Richard Chenier. I'm Lucy's ex-husband.'
My eyes clicked from Epps to Richard Chenier and I stared. So much for Russian mobsters. So much for federal agents.
Richard Chenier said, 'The gun?'
I remembered the gun and put it away.
'We were going to meet sooner or later, so I decided to introduce myself.' He didn't offer his hand, and neither did I.
'There might've been a friendlier way to say hello.'
Richard nodded. 'Perhaps.' I guess this wasn't going to be a friendly visit.
'Tell me something, Richard. Do you have your man Epps here follow every guy Lucy dates?'
'No. Only the ones who tempt her into moving two thousand miles. And take my son with her.'
I said, 'Richard.'
He smiled, then sat in one of the director's chairs across from my desk. 'My son likes you, so I wanted to find out what kind of guy you are. You can understand that, can't you?'
'I can understand your wanting to know about me. Hiring a guy to B and E my home is stepping over the line.'
'Oh, I didn't hire Mr. Epps for you. He works for my company. We're in international oil.'
'Mm.' Maybe I was supposed to be impressed.
'He's very good at what he does, and he tells me that you seem to be a solid man. Stable. Good reputation. All of that.'
'I'm glad you approve.'
'And small. A person we might describe as a minor player in an insignificant game, well beneath what I would want for my wife and my son.'
I stared at him some more, and then I looked at Pinocchio. I sighed, then stood. 'Okay, Richard. We've met. It's been fun. I'm sorry it's going to be like this, but now it's time to leave.'
He didn't move. Neither did Epps. 'Small, but reasonable, so I decided that I should explain things to you so that you understand.'
'I can ask nice, Richard, but, believe me, I don't have to ask, or be nice.' Epps shifted his weight forward slightly, away from the door. 'Epps, you won't believe it even while it's happening.' That probably scared him.
Richard raised both hands and smiled. 'I'm not here to threaten you. Look, I love this woman, and I love my son. What you don't understand is that she still loves me. We just have to work out a few problems, and then she'll come to see that.'
'Good-bye, Richard.' So much for civil discourse. So much for modern men discussing a modern problem in an enlightened manner. I was thinking that it might be fun to beat him to death.
He still didn't move. 'I just want you to consider what's best for Lucy. I know she's been offered this job, but it'll be much better for her to stay in Baton Rouge, and much better for Ben. I'm hoping that you're the kind of guy who wants what's best for them. If you cared, you'd tell her to stay home.'
He really believed it. I glanced at Epps, but Epps didn't seem to care one way or the other. I shook my head. 'You think I should tell Lucy to stay home?'
Richard smiled like a pleased teacher whose slow pupil was finally catching on. 'That's right.'
Maybe that's why their marriage failed. 'Richard, here's something that you don't seem to understand. This decision isn't mine or yours. It's Lucy's.'
Richard frowned, as if I'd failed him in my attempt to understand.
'I love her, and I want her here, but I can't make her come and I can't make her stay, and neither can you. It's her life, and her decision. You see?'
Richard Chenier frowned harder. 'There's always a way to get what you want. That's how I make my living.'
I stared at him. I tried to picture them as a couple, and couldn't.
Richard Chenier glanced at Epps, then stood. Epps opened the door. Richard said, 'You don't think I intend to just let them leave, do you?'
'I don't think you have any choice.'
'You'd be surprised.' He smiled at me, and I didn't like it. I didn't like him.
Richard Chenier walked out of my office without looking back. Epps stared at me, then grinned and turned away, too.
'Hey, Epps.'
He looked back, still grinning.
'That's some cat, huh?'
Epps dropped the smile, walked out, and closed the door. Hard.
I stared at the door for a very long time, and then I shook my head.
'Pleased to meet you, Richard.'
CHAPTER 14
I watched Richard and Epps drive away, then went back to my desk and stared at the Mickey phone and thought about calling Lucy, but what would I say? Your ex-husband dropped by and told me he loved you? Nope. Richard hired some guy to break into my house. It sounded like tattling.
I looked at the Pinocchio clock, and gave it Stan Laurel. 'Isn't this a fine development?'
Pinocchio's eyes went from side to side, but he didn't say anything. He never does.
I tried to think about Markov. I took out the two one-hundred-dollar bills, looked at them again, but I kept seeing Richard on the bills instead of Ben Franklin. 'For chrissakes, Cole, get over it. You're onto something with Clark. Follow up your lead.'
What kind of guy hires someone to break into his ex-wife's boyfriend's house?
Would you stop?!
I knew from Lucy that Richard Chenier was an attorney with the firm of Benton, Meyers & Dane, and I knew he had graduated from law school at LSU, where Lucy had been an undergraduate, but that was all I knew, and I had never given him much thought. Now he had entered my home and my office in a belligerent and threatening manner, which I could handle, but he had also indicated that he had no intention of allowing Lucy to leave Baton Rouge, which I didn't like at all. Whatever that meant.