A Clean Kill (29 page)

When she turned back, I said, “I’m sorry. This is the wrong morning.”

She nodded and slipped her panties down and tossed them into a corner with her toes. She slipped the cool tips of her fingers inside the waistband of my shorts.

“Listen to me, Kai-Li. I’m glad to be alive. And I’m glad you’re here with me. But this, what you’re doing, would seem … I don’t know … almost like a celebration of what happened last night.

“It’s not that I mourn for their fates. Hell, they were going to kill us. It’s the way it happened. It wasn’t violent or vengeful. What happened was cold and … I don’t know what, and I need to get the stink and the filth of it out of me before …” My voice trailed off. I’d just told her more than I’d ever intended her to know.

Kai-Li slipped her fingers out of my waistband and
placed the pad of her index finger against my lips. “It’s just a shower, Thomas.”

Stepping over the raised lip of the ceramic stall and leaving the door open, she stood with her back to the showerhead. She arched her back and let the steaming spray slick her hair against her shoulders and back.

She looked at me and smiled. “I promise not to ravish you.”

I pulled off my shorts and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

We stood together in the heat and steam, the hot spray washing over us, and held each other. And, right then, that seemed like enough.

The rest of the day passed at a slow and smooth pace. I built a fire in the hearth and cooked chili for lunch. Kai-Li liked the fire. She tasted the chili and quietly retired to the kitchen, returning with a large spinach salad.

She volunteered to make dinner.

That was about it. People die every day. Nothing changes. Not usually.

I awoke Monday morning beside Kai-Li, having retained my newfound chastity. She was still sleeping when I exited the bathroom, freshly showered and shaved, and dressed by the dim light coming through curtained French doors leading out onto the deck.

Joey was due at 9:00
A.M
. but arrived early. His blue Expedition was in the driveway before I finished my
bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He came in and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He nodded at my cereal. “How can you eat that shit?”

I wasn’t in the mood.

Joey said, “Nice eye. Kai-Li finally get enough of you?”

“Judge Savin knows we’re trying to set him up.”

“How?”

“Just smart, I think. He got me and Kai-Li in a back room at the Mandrake Club last night. Said he knows I’m screwing around with him. The plan was for his two gophers …”

Joey raised his coffee cup. “The two hip-hop rejects who tried to waylay you in Montgomery?”

“That’s them. Or, more accurately, that
was
them.”

“Huh?”

I explained what the judge had wanted them to do. I ended by saying, “And so Zybo killed both of them.”

“That was nice of him.” Joey drank some coffee. “How much time you figure we got before Savin finds somebody else willing to pop a cap in your head?”

“Pop a cap?”

“
The Sopranos
.”

I nodded. “Not much. What have you got for me?”

Joey stood and retrieved his waterproof, dustproof, blastproof aluminum briefcase from the doorway. He placed it on the tabletop, popped the clasps, and opened the lid. “Here.” He tossed a manila file folder in front of me. “We got financial reports on Baneberry-Cort Construction. Copies of building permits for that stack of steel they’re puttin’ on the beach in Gulf Shores. Even got the probate papers on Kate Baneberry.”

I flipped open the folder. “She was a full partner.”

“Yep.”

“Damn.” I quickly flipped through the rest of the documents. “What about life insurance on the partners? It’s pretty common among small partnerships. One of them dies and takes their expertise with them …”

Joey shook his head. “No way to know. Now if it was a public corporation, we could find out just about anything …” His voice trailed off. He knew he was telling me things I already knew.

I stood and walked into the living room, where I picked up the phone and punched in seven numbers.

“Loutie? Good morning.”

She said, “Morning.”

“Joey’s here. We were wondering, has your new employer filed suit in the Baneberry case?”

“Not yet.”

“They prepared any pleadings?”

She was in the kitchen. I could hear her washing dishes. “Sure. They’ve got some first-year associate cobbling something together. What do you need to know? I can get you copies, if you need them.”

Kai-Li descended the stairs into the living room. She wore jeans and a sweater. She looked great. I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “Joey’s in the kitchen.”

She nodded and walked on through. She didn’t look fully awake yet.

“No. Thanks, Loutie. I just needed to know if Baneberry-Cort Construction is a named plaintiff.”

“Yeah. I’ve only glanced the complaint in passing, but I’m almost certain the partnership is one of the entities
suing Dr. Adderson.” She paused as it sunk in. “How would they have standing?”

I walked back toward my own kitchen with the mobile receiver. “Kate Baneberry was a partner.” A sharp squeak and the sound of running water went away. “You done with the dishes?”

“Yeah. Look, like I said, I can get a copy of anything they’re working on.”

Kai-Li leaned against the counter, drinking coffee. I sat down at the table across from Joey. “No, Loutie. The cat’s out of the bag. Your career as a highly paid law-firm receptionist just ended.” I waited for her to speak. She didn’t. “We’ll talk about it more in person.”

“Sounds good.” Loutie was a smart woman. Smart enough to leave it alone. “I don’t think I did you much good though.”

“Loutie,” I said, “you’d be surprised.”

I pushed the off button and dropped the receiver on the table. Joey had grabbed a bowl from the counter and was eating huge spoonfuls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with milk. I pointed at his bowl. “I thought you didn’t know how I could eat that.”

“Thought I’d find out.”

I leaned against the back of my chair. “Can you stay around for a little while? I’d like to set up a meeting with Sully.”

“Worried about your license?”

“No. This is something else.”

Joey finished the last of the cereal. He picked up the bowl and drank the milk with sugar and cinnamon in it. “Give me an hour or two. Gotta serve a summons in Foley for a buddy who couldn’t get to it.”

I picked up the receiver and punched in Sully’s office
number. I spoke with his secretary and dropped the phone back on the table. “Right after lunch.”

Joey stood, placed his bowl in the sink, and walked out. I followed him to the door, where he paused. “Tom? You know that girl in there’s got a crush on you.”

“She’s a good person.”

“So, you nailing her or what?”

I looked into his eyes. “Careful, Joey.”

He laughed. Hard. “Works every time. I can always tell if you’re getting laid. All I gotta do is ask the wrong way and then check out the needle on the pissed-off meter.”

I said, “Why don’t you kiss my ass?”

Joey looked over toward the kitchen and back down to wink at me. “I think that job’s taken.” He opened the door and stepped out. Over his shoulder, he added, “And it’s about friggin’ time.”

I swung the door shut before he’d finished the last word.

Joey was back by noon. He asked Kai-Li to sit in the passenger seat of his Expedition. I climbed in back where, on the ride into Mobile, I listened to Joey question Kai-Li about whether she found it rewarding to teach undergraduates and how she had landed in Auburn after starting out life in Hong Kong. He asked all about her daughter, Sunny, and talked about spending Christmas away from family when he was in the Navy.

My giant friend really hadn’t paid much attention to Dr. Kai-Li Cantil up until that morning. Now he figured
she was a friend. Joey’s like that. If I liked her, he liked her. If Joey liked her, nobody better
ever
cause her harm. Kai-Li was making one hell of a friend, and I doubted that she even knew it.

Sully was waiting in his office when we arrived. He asked if we’d had lunch and then sent a runner for sandwiches and soup.

I met with him first, alone. Half an hour later, Sully placed a call to Assistant District Attorney Buddy Foxglove—the man who’d arrested me for murder at the urging of his superiors. Foxglove hadn’t liked the political interference at the time. Now, as Sully put the man on speaker, Foxglove paid us the courtesy of listening. We talked to him for over an hour. He said little.

For the last half hour of the phone call, we called in Joey and Kai-Li. Foxglove seemed to find my Asian-American houseguest impressive. He was right.

There were different levels of involvement and expertise among the four of us in Sully’s office. Sully, our host, now knew everything I knew. The other two knew what they needed to know to stay safe and play their parts.

We all agreed, even ADA Buddy Foxglove—I was in a hell of a mess.

When the conference call had ended, Sully asked, “How do you contact this Zybo character?”

“I can’t. He contacts me.”

“Judge Savin’s not going to let you walk around unmolested forever. So, figure out a way. You’ve lost your license and been indicted for murder, even if the charges were later withdrawn. A lot of people think you’ve lost it, Tom.”

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “A suicide—let’s just say
any
kind of death that even
looks
like a suicide—by someone in your position would hardly raise an eyebrow. So,” he paused for emphasis, “find this damn Cajun. We’ve got to get moving.”

We were leaving Mobile. Kai-Li sat up front again. Joey was being charming. He’d just pointed out a small alley where he once got shot through his left hand. He held the scar up to the light. “See.”

I leaned forward. “This is the thug version of polite conversation.”

Joey glanced in the rearview mirror. “You callin’ me a thug? Go look in the mirror, bubba. Nobody’s been beating me in the face with a knife and a pistol.”

A mall passed by. I said, “Turn in here.”

Joey braked and made the next entrance. “What’re we doin’ here?”

“We’re looking for a music store.” Kai-Li turned and gave me a strange look. I said, “I need some zydeco. I’m thinking of cranking up the stereo when we get home.”

Kai-Li smiled. “Think that’ll work?”

Joey glanced up again at me in the rearview mirror. “What are you talking about?” He turned to Kai-Li. “Think what’ll work?”

The doors and windows stood wide open. We filled the Eastern Shore with yodeled vibrato and the rhythmic twang of stringed instruments. I feared blowing my Martin Logan speakers into little pieces.

Three neighbors called. Two were almost polite. The fourth caller asked, “You lookin’ for a good university psychologist?”

“That’s right.”

Zion Thibbodeaux said, “Same diner?”

I said, “Yeah,” and he hung up.

Joey had gone back to Mobile. I quickly called him and left for the diner.

Inside the Safari, my palms sweated and slipped on the steering wheel. The sides of my stomach seemed to abrade against each other. It was a short drive that seemed long.

I found the place around dinnertime. Inside, there
was the same smell, the same waitress, and four new patrons at the counter. Zybo sat at the back table.

When I approached, he said, “Sit on down.” So that’s what I did. “Whatsa matter, Tommy Boy? You worried ’bout de Wagoneer? Nobody found it yet, if dat’s what’s botherin’ you.”

I leaned back and stretched out my legs. “What Wagoneer?”

“Now you talkin’.” Zybo nodded. “So what’s de problem?”

“Judge Savin. As soon as he figures out I’m still in the world, he’s going to try again.”

The Cajun looked bored. “I tol you, I got your back.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged.

“That’s my point,” I said. “What I need is something to make him back off.”

“Why you talkin’ to me ’bout it?”

“I know you’ve got something. Something you put back to protect yourself. Listen …”

A man in a dirty coat stepped down off a stool at the counter and asked the waitress, “Where’s the head?”

I held up a palm at Zybo as the guy made his way beside the tables and passed us. But as the dirty coat passed Zybo, he turned and placed the muzzle of an automatic pistol against the side of Zybo’s head.

“Don’t move. Either one of you. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Someone grabbed me from behind and yanked both of my hands behind my neck. An unseen hand clamped onto my fingers while another hand moved over my
clothing. From behind, a voice said, “You can stand up and step aside, Mr. McInnes.”

I looked up into Zybo’s eyes. There was murder in them. I said, “Don’t say anything.”

He slowly shook his head at me. Then, as I stood, the front door slammed, and Zybo’s line of sight shot past me. His face turned dark. I spun around and saw Joey walk in.

“What is this?”

Joey’s eyes drooped. His shoulders and arms hung limp. “It’s for your own good, Tom.” He motioned at Zybo. “You gotta be done with this guy.”

I lunged forward and swung hard at Joey’s chin, just catching the tip of it as he jerked his head backward.

Two cops grabbed my arms. A third one, the man in the dirty coat, told the others to cuff me. They used nylon zip cuffs to secure my hands. I looked back. Zybo stood between the dirty coat and a second cop, his face turned to the floor.

The head cop, the one in the coat, began to read Zybo his rights as the two men holding my arms pulled me toward the door. I yelled back over my shoulder at Zybo. “Don’t say a word. I’m this man’s lawyer. You can’t question him without me.” When we reached the door, I jammed a foot against the doorframe and caught Zybo’s eyes. All I could get out was, “Not a word,” before the cops shoved me out into the night.

They let me go home, telling me to be at police headquarters at eight the next morning. I told them I needed to see my client. They said, “Fine. At eight in the morning.”