Javier said, “Anyway, Gerry takes Sally and her sister out to dinner, buys them three bottles of wine. Sally’s convinced that this loser is thinking threesome with two hot sisters. All the while, Sally and her sister are doing their best not to puke at the thought. But my point is that Sally has a real vivid memory of this night. She remembers all the details. It’s almost creepy.”
“How do you mean?”
“I give you an example. She gets to the part of the story where Gerry is telling her what a cash cow this Alfredo’s restaurant is. Gerry keeps going on and on, to the point that she figures he had to be keeping two sets of books, because the P and L didn’t show any profit at all. Then finally, she does this impersonation of Gerry. For me, it was one of those spooky moments, like when you know that a person has relived this moment over and over again in her mind. She did the mannerisms, the tone of voice, the whole thing. The way she tells it, Gerry leaned into the table, looked her in the eye, and curled his index finger to call her closer, like some child molester trying to lure a schoolgirl into his van. Then he got this drunken grin on his face and whispered into her ear, like it was some big secret he was sharing: ‘Alfredo’s. It’s a gold mine, baby.’”
Jack felt a chill. It was almost too convincing, the way Javier had acted out the pedophile analogy.
“What did Gerry mean by a gold mine?” asked Kelsey. “Was he laundering money there?”
“Nah,” Javier said, dismissing it. “Gerry was a total bullshitter. But his little song and dance worked. Sally gave her husband the go-ahead to buy the place. From day one it hemorrhaged money. Eventually it wiped them out.”
“Is that why she hates Gerry’s guts?” asked Jack.
“From what she told me, she saw this Gerry character as the start of all her problems. It was the end of her happy marriage and her life with her little girl. The beginning of nothing but worries about money. Then she started working at Hooters or some place like that, which was when that stalker started hassling her. You know about that, right?”
“Yeah, Miguel told me. He thinks it was the stalker who murdered his daughter.”
“Well, there you go. In Sally’s mind, all her problems, including that stalker, could be traced back to Gerry selling them that pig-in-a-poke restaurant.”
“That’s interesting. Like I said, I don’t think Gerry is on Miguel’s short list of drinking buddies anymore, but he doesn’t seem to have the hatred that Sally had.”
“If you could ask Sally, she’d say it’s because Miguel is stupid. He thinks their restaurant failed because of the flood that ruined all their improvements. He just didn’t want to admit that his own friend screwed him from the get-go.”
Jack and Kelsey exchanged glances, as if something was still missing. Jack said, “Anything else come to mind, Javier?”
“That’s about it.”
“Let’s talk about Tatum for a minute. Why is he a beneficiary under Sally’s will?”
“Pretty obvious, don’t you think?”
“You tell me.”
“From what I understand, Sally set this up like a game-survival of the fittest.”
“In a sense, yes. Last one living takes all.”
“There’s more to it than that, right?”
“How do you mean?” asked Jack.
“Tatum says there’s two ways to get the money. One is to outlive everybody. The other is to be the only one who doesn’t-what do you call it-renounce his inheritance?”
“That’s right,” said Kelsey. “Anyone can pull out, if they choose.”
“There you go,” said Javier. “You either gotta outlive everybody, or you gotta persuade the others to throw in the towel. In that kind of game, doesn’t it make sense to have at least one person in the mix, like Tatum, who isn’t squeamish about blood?”
Jack narrowed his eyes and said, “Are you saying that Sally intended to have these people fight over her money. I don’t mean legal battles. I mean fighting, literally.”
“If her ex-husband and this Gerry are on the list, yeah, absolutely. I think she would have liked nothing better than for those two guys to end up killing each other trying to get her money.”
“So she made Tatum a beneficiary to do what? Get the fists flying?”
“All I can tell you is that one night, Sally asks me if I know any tough guys. Real tough guys. I say sure. That’s it. I don’t ask questions. I hooked her up with Tatum, and that was that.”
Jack said, “Next thing you know, she’s shot dead, and Tatum’s a beneficiary under her will.”
“About the size of it.” Javier checked his watch and said, “Look, I gotta get back to work. I work for tips, and filling these suites is my big take for the night.”
“Of course,” said Jack, rising. “We’ll clear out.”
“Unless you and the lady want to stay. It’s very private.”
“No, no,” said Jack.
“That’s quite all right,” said Kelsey.
“You sure?” said Javier. “I’m full service here. Whatever you want, I can get. Drinks, breath mints, ecstasy, condoms.”
Kelsey popped like a spring from the couch at his mention of condoms, as if propelled by the thought of what she might have been sitting in. Jack had a feeling that her awesome red dress was destined for Goodwill.
“How about a rain check?” said Jack.
They shook hands and said good night. Then Jack and Kelsey followed the stairs down to the main floor and continued out the exit to the sidewalk. It was almost midnight, and Washington Avenue was kicking into high gear, an eclectic mix of gays and straights, tourists and natives. A stretch limo cruised by, music blasting through the open windows. The back end was an outdoor hot tub bubbling over with twenty-something-year-old hard bodies who were laughing loudly and speaking Portuguese.
“I’m real sorry about this,” said Jack as they reached the curb.
“Sorry for what?”
“I asked you to come because I thought it would be fun for you. A more exciting side of lawyering. I didn’t mean to throw you to a recovering porn addict.”
“You didn’t throw me. I volunteered. I’m not going to shrivel up and die because some pathetic loser can’t look at my face without thinking about…well, whatever he was trying not to think about.”
“So you’re okay?”
“I’m okay. But as for the speech I gave in your office today-about how using your body is no different than using your brain?”
“Yeah?” said Jack.
“After meeting Javier, let’s just say my thoughts are evolving on that front.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a smile. They stood in silence for a moment, a little awkward, as Jack debated the next move. The yellow light from Club Vertigo’s neon sign was playing against Kelsey’s eyes, drawing flecks of gold from the intriguing pools of hazel. The divorce had left him pretty rusty at dating, but he hadn’t completely lost the ability to read the expression on a woman’s face or interpret her posture, the little things that said, “What’s next on the agenda?” as opposed to “I’m tired and I want to go home.” Part of him wanted to take a shot and ask her out for coffee or something, but it just didn’t seem right to be hitting on Nate’s mom.
“I really have to let the baby-sitter go,” she said. “Maybe another time.”
“Another time what?”
She smiled wryly. “For the past thirty seconds you’ve had one eye on me and the other on Starbucks across the street. So…maybe some other time.”
He fumbled nervously for the valet ticket in his pocket. “Sure,” he said, wondering if he was really that obvious or if she was just that perceptive. “Some other time.”
Sixteen
At 1 A.M., the warehouse district west of the Palmetto Expressway had all the charm and personality of Leavenworth after lockdown. The buildings all looked alike, simple cinder-block and sheet-metal construction. Outside each establishment, every inch of ground was covered with nondescript stacks of inventory on pallets. Protecting it all was a nine-foot-high chain-link fence with coiled razor wire running across the top like a man-eating Slinky.