"I'm Jay Rainey's lawyer, Martha. I live in the city. I examined the contract of sale for him for the farm and told him not to do it. It all looked funny to me. He did it anyway. Now, Jay is in- he's got a problem and the buyer is putting big pressure on him."
"Wants to undo the deal? He can't. Why? It's a beautiful piece."
"No, there's something buried in the land and Marceno is anxious to know what it is."
"And he wants to get the soil ready to plant?"
"Exactly. He's putting in Merlot vines and won't be getting any usable yield for three years."
"I know the game," she said.
"And I suppose you know Marceno as well?"
She casually retrieved the biography of the Duke of Windsor and turned a page. Her hair was rather thin on the top of her head.
"I'm on the right team here, Martha, okay? Marceno said he talked with a broker from this agency saying another buyer had come forward and would buy the property if Marceno's deal fell through. I'm figuring he was talking to you."
She flipped another page.
I took a half step forward. "Was there another potential buyer?"
"The world is full of potential buyers."
"You were just pressuring him, then?"
Now she looked up at me. "Yes."
"Why? Why'd you do it?"
"Why'd I do anything?" she cried. "Because it was Jay's chance to be free! All these wine companies are so big! They can pay to dig up a little sand and truck it away. There's been enough pain in that family. How is Jay, Mr. Wyeth?"
"He seems-" She'd changed the topic, I realized. "He seems fine."
"Oh, that's very good. I saw him a few months ago… he seemed a little tired… He was the most, most beautiful boy. A perfectly beautiful boy, very good at football and baseball as I remember… This was more than fifteen years ago." She closed her book. "His father farmed that piece. Didn't do too well. Not a nice man, not in any way. But Jay got his size from him. Mother was lovely, though, saved him from his father. She poured herself into him. Taught him everything. Jay was charming and did very well with the summer girls, you know. Never boastful. Yes, I knew his mother. Sweet. But sad, you know. Wanted more children. Nervous woman. Tired of terrible fights with her husband. But she had Jay, she was just so proud of him, he was her prize. Consolation for her husband."
Mrs. Hallock uttered this last word as if she were unexpectedly tasting a small bitter object on her tongue. "The accident must have just unnerved her, see. That night… she lost her bearings. The husband"- that tone again-"was no good, didn't stand up, just drank himself away."
"The accident-?"
Martha looked at me hawkishly. "Known Jay long?" she asked.
"No. Just a short time." Three days, I didn't say.
"Oh, I see."
"You mentioned an accident?"
"I shouldn't have. I'm not the one to discuss that. It's his business." She dropped her hands to the arms of her chair and gripped them. "It was very nice of you to visit me, Mr. Wyeth. And I'm sure things will get resolved smoothly. That piece of land's got nothing but three feet of loam over who knows how many hundred feet of beautiful sand below that. It's perfect acreage and I'll give the new owner a call to remind him of that."
But I wasn't quite ready to evaporate. "You seem to know Jay and his family pretty well, Martha," I said. "And it appears you were the agent on the sale of his property. As such, you have a responsibility to the buyer as well as to the seller. I think you know this even better than I do. The buyer has contacted me with the accusation that something was covered up out there, right before the sale went through. Hours before, Martha. As it turns out, there's good reason to think that. The buyer is a busy guy. Making frivolous complaints is not worth his time. He's going to pursue this until he has satisfaction. As it is, he's probably going to sue Jay to get compliance. Let's hope you're not named, either."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Wyeth."
"I'm going to call you tomorrow to see if you have more insight into how this problem can get fixed."
"Maybe I'll still be alive to take your call."
I don't like getting mad at old women- generally they have enough problems- but she hadn't been much help. We glared at each other, and then I left.
On the way out of the offices, I saw Pamela. "Thank you," I called behind me.
She glanced over her shoulder. "I doubt you mean that."
"A tough case."
"Anyway, see any properties that interest you?" She pulled off her headset. "But I guess that's not why you're here."
"No." I put my hand on the door to go. "Any advice?"
"You could try finding her nephew, he usually knows what's going on."
This didn't much interest me. But I'd be polite. "Who's that?"
Pamela wrinkled her nose. "A nasty little man. Gives me the creeps. Everybody calls him Poppy."
Back in the city, I returned the van, and on my way to the steakhouse passed some guy hawking cell phone deals. I walked in the shop and signed up for the cheapest deal they had.
"I heard these things give you brain cancer," I joked, fondling the little device.
The clerk, a short black guy with sad eyes, considered the statement. "I believe that's true," he said. "I think they'll find that out, eventually."
"You're probably not supposed to tell me that."
"They want me to lie, they should pay me more."
The steakhouse was slow, the lunch rush done, the staff vacuuming the carpeting. As ever, Table 17 stood empty.
"Allison around?" I asked my waitress.
"She left you a note in case you came."
Which I opened. It said, Meet me in Havana Room.
I declined to order some food and instead got up and found the little door next to the foyer unlocked. The curved stairwell was dark.
"Hello?" I called. "Allison?"
The long room was dim, the smell of cigars lingering. No natural light fell upon the paintings, the black-and-white tile floor. A rack of dirty glasses stood on the bar. Allison sat in the farthest booth.
"Hey Bill," came her voice.
A stack of restaurant paperwork lay to one side of her, a shot glass and bottle of Maker's Mark to the other. Allison gave me an uneasy smile, embarrassed at her vulnerability. "You working or drinking?" I said.
"Drinking."
"And in private, too."
"Didn't see you last night," she ventured.
I thought about telling her about the previous evening, about Jay's appearance at the basketball game, about the lawsuit. "I was detained."
Allison smiled. "Against your will?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
But she didn't believe me. "Well, I think I've been stupid," she announced. "Silly and stupid."
"Jay?"
"Yes. I mean, I probably hoped too much, you know?" She pushed at her shot glass. "He came over last night- I said I'd make a late dinner, like ten-thirty- have a nice evening. So I left here about nine. And he showed up, just what you'd expect."
This meant, I realized, that Jay had left the basketball game straight for Allison's apartment, and maybe not because he'd seen me or H.J.'s men looking for him.