The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets)

by James, Harper

  ‘One thing he did say was that he went to see that guy Forrest somebody or other.’

  ‘Uh huh. And?’

  There was a noticeable change in his voice. More interest. You can’t hear someone holding their breath, but if you could? Maybe it was because they were talking about one of the richest guys around, maybe because there was a small chance it could go somewhere, maybe something else altogether.

  ‘And nothing. Guy says he doesn’t know anything.’

  ‘If you were here, you’d be able to see me doing my best surprised face. It’s not very convincing.’

  Despite the words, it sounded like they’d been delivered on a long, slow exhale of relief.

  Chapter 35

  FORREST ST JOHN JNR closed the door behind the two police officers, then leaned his forehead against it and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for a couple of minutes, his mind blank, before turning and crossing the hallway to his study. He dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass and poured himself a stiff drink. Sinking into a comfortable armchair, he stared out the open window at the terrace where he’d sat with that retard, Jesse, just the other day.

  Officer Handwerker’s words, delivered in that soft, soothing tone that would have you punching her in the mouth if you had to listen to it for more than five minutes, bounced around inside his head trying to find a home. His mind refused to take in the fact that his father was dead. Killed in a fatal car accident. Drove into a tree and broke his neck. He hadn’t been wearing his seat belt. On the face of it, no other vehicles were involved. An open-and-shut case. It just didn’t seem possible.

  After another couple of drinks there was no seeming about it—he was convinced it wasn’t possible. It hadn’t happened the way they said it had. He knew his father had gone to one of his regular meetings with D’Amato. Forrest knew the exact route he would have taken—his father always took the same route. He knew it like the back of his liver-spotted old hand. Knew every dip and hollow, every curve. He was old for Christ’s sake and everyone knew old people always did the same thing they’d done for the last fifty years. But they’d found him miles away. Even if you’d given the map to a child they wouldn’t have been able to get you as far off route as that.

  There were a lot of things Forrest might have accused his father of, but being a bad driver wasn’t one of them. He was a good driver, a careful driver, an infuriatingly slow driver. If he’d hit a tree it wouldn’t have scratched the paintwork at the speed he usually drove. And he always wore his seat belt even if he was only moving the car in the driveway. No, it just wasn’t possible that it happened like they said.

  After two more drinks Forrest had the answer. It was D’Amato. It had to be. Something must have happened that morning at their meeting and then they’d tried to cover it up, make it look like an accident. But the stupid greaseballs hadn’t even bothered to look at the map and work out the route he was likely to have taken. Whatever had happened, the end result was the same. His father was dead. Forrest felt like he wanted to weep, not an overwhelming desire, just a stabbing sensation behind his eyes. And it certainly wasn’t for his father.

  If only it was as simple as that. D’Amato would have done him a favor without knowing it. But nothing’s ever simple and now Forrest had a much bigger problem to deal with—the question of his father’s will. The old bastard had hated him for as long as he remembered, ever since they’d gone to the club together all those years ago. He’d always blamed Forrest for what happened afterwards, and the festering resentment had only got worse as he got older. Forrest chuckled quietly to himself at the thought of how much worse for the old man he’d made it over the years. He raised his glass in a toast: Here’s hoping you rot in hell.

  It was scant consolation. The old fool had had the last laugh. It didn’t make things any easier now the day had finally arrived, but at least he’d seen the problem coming for some time. Luckily, he’d spent the last few years preparing for it.

  Outside the daylight was almost gone. He looked at his watch. His sight was a bit blurry from the booze but he could see it wasn’t that late. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, found the number he wanted and dialed.

  Chapter 36

  EVAN GOT A CALL from Angel early the next day.

  ‘Things might be starting to shake loose,’ Angel said. ‘I just got a call from Forrest St John. He’s pretty antsy. His old man died in a car accident yesterday. He says there’s some stuff he wants to talk about.’

  In the background Evan heard an irate blast on a car horn. He couldn’t tell whether it was Angel doing the blasting or causing the problem. Either way it sounded like there’d be another accident any minute.

  ‘I’m heading over there now. I can pick you up on the way if you want to tag along.’

  ‘Won’t he think it’s strange if I’m there?’

  ‘Maybe, but he also said he’d been trying to call your friend Jesse. Couldn’t get hold of him. You don’t think he might have changed his mind and gone back to the club again, do you?’

  ‘Not a chance. Even Jesse’s not that dumb. If he didn’t actually hijack a plane to get home, he was certainly thinking about it.’

  ‘Okay. Just one other thing—you’re not allergic to grass, are you?’

  Five minutes later Angel picked him up from his hotel. They took the same route Jesse had taken a couple of days earlier, and once they got onto the smaller roads, Evan wound his window down and took it all in. The air was still filled with the sounds of sputtering sprinklers and droning mowers, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the cool freshness of it all.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be retiring down here,’ he said and looked across at Angel, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  ‘You got it. I just need to misappropriate another five thousand pounds of cocaine and I’m all set.’ He looked out at a property the size of a small hospital sitting on top of a gentle hill. ‘That should get me one of the smaller properties. I don’t need anything too fancy.’

  They found Dieu Donné and turned in.

  Evan shook his head when he saw the name. ‘God Given,’ he said quietly. ‘Given’s about right—it sure as hell isn’t earned.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t got a problem with idle folk who’ve had everything given to them on a plate.’

  Evan didn’t reply, just kept looking out at the endless green. Forrest Jnr was waiting for them as they drove up to the house. He looked like he’d had a rough night. Angel made the introductions. Forrest raised an eyebrow when Angel explained why Evan was there but didn’t say anything. They went through and sat on the terrace. There was a pitcher of iced tea and what looked like a Bloody Mary on the table. Forrest saw them looking.

  ‘Hair of the dog. I had a heavy night.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ Angel said. ‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’

  Forrest nodded absently and sat down. ‘That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. That and’—he tipped his head towards Evan—‘Jesse. I think it’s all connected anyway.’

  ‘Okay,’ Angel said slowly, ‘why not take it from the beginning.’

  Forrest sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. ‘I don’t think my father died in a car accident.’

  Evan was amazed at the lack of emotion—of any kind—in his voice.

  ‘Okay,’ Angel said again, his face completely blank, ‘what do you think happened?’

  ‘I think Tony D’Amato killed him.’

  Angel had difficulty keeping his face blank this time. His eyes opened a fraction wider.

  ‘You know who that is?’ Forrest said, not really giving them a chance to say anything.

  Angel nodded. ‘Sure. I know him. What makes you think he killed your father? That’s quite an accusation.’

  Forrest crossed his legs the other way and then picked at some imaginary lint on his shirt. He looked back up at Angel. ‘This is quite difficult.’

  He cleared his throat and took a noisy slurp
of his drink. ‘There’s some history I’ll go into later, but my father had a meeting with D’Amato yesterday morning. That’s why he was in Louisville.’

  Evan was sure Angel wanted to ask what the meeting was about as much as he did, but, since Angel wasn’t asking, he didn’t think he should. He’d been at the back of the line when they were handing out patience. Angel just nodded and waited for Forrest to continue.

  ‘Have you got a road atlas?’ Forrest said.

  Angel said he had one in the car and went to get it. We’ll send out a search party if you’re not back in ten minutes, Evan thought.

  Evan and Forrest sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Evan didn’t feel like he should question Forrest without Angel and he sure as hell wasn’t going to say something inane like You’ve got a nice place here.

  ‘You’re a friend of Jesse’s, are you?’ Forrest said, breaking the silence as it started to get uncomfortable.

  ‘He’s a friend and a client,’ Evan said, not sure if either of those descriptions were still valid.

  Forrest nodded. His face suggested he found it unusual that a man would socialize with the hired help. ‘He hired you to look into that business at the club, did he?’

  Evan nodded but was saved from having to explain any further by Angel coming back. Forrest opened up the road atlas and laid it on the table. He took a pen out of his pocket and circled Louisville.

  ‘Here’s Louisville, and here we are.’ He drew another circle. ‘And this’—he drew a third circle—‘is where they found my father crashed into a tree.’

  He sat back and pointed at the map. ‘Does that look like the route anyone would take to get from Louisville to here?’

  He picked up the pen again and marked the route Evan and Angel had just taken. ‘That’s the route my father always took. That’s the route anyone would take.’

  He said it with a smug Q-E-D sort of look on his face. They had to agree. His father had been found way off the route.

  ‘He might have been going somewhere else afterwards,’ Evan suggested.

  Forrest looked at him incredulously as if the dog dirt that he’d just noticed on the bottom of his shoe had suddenly started talking.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever met either my father or D’Amato?’ Forrest said.

  Evan shook his head.

  ‘Then let me tell you something. After a meeting with D’Amato my father would come directly home, burn the clothes he was wearing and scrub himself clean with a wire brush and Dettol.’

  Evan smiled at Forrest’s description. Wrong thing to do.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ Forrest said, his voice rising. ‘D’Amato is a piece of low-life scum. My father would not have been going anywhere else after meeting him before he got the stink of the man out of his pores.’

  Evan held up his hands in apology. Forrest relaxed a little.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that he really gets my goat. And that’s before this happened. Anyone else want another drink?’

  They both shook their heads and Forrest went inside.

  ‘You planning on asking him?’ Evan said to Angel.

  ‘Ask him what?’

  ‘Why he was meeting him in the first place? If he hated him so much.’

  Angel nodded. ‘We’ll get to that, don’t worry. Let him tell it in his own time. There’s obviously something going on here. We don’t want him to clam up. Think you can wait?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Good boy. I don’t want to have to make you wait in the car.’

  Forrest came back out carrying his drink which was already half empty.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Angel said. ‘You think D’Amato killed your father and then staged the accident.’

  ‘Yes. But he chose a couple of goons who couldn’t find their asses with both hands to do it.’

  ‘Any idea why he would want to kill your father?’

  Forrest took a while before he answered and it wasn’t the answer they were expecting.

  ‘I think it must have been an accident.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Angel said.

  There was an even longer pause. It was obvious there was something going on in the background and Forrest was trying to assess the impact of the information he was giving them.

  ‘Because they were blackmailing him.’

  Chapter 37

  THE SILENCE FELT LIKE it lasted forever.

  ‘Killing him makes no sense,’ Forrest eventually said. ‘Why kill the goose that lays the golden egg? It must have been an accident.’

  ‘Why were they blackmailing him?’ Angel said.

  Forrest snorted. ‘Apart from the fact that they’re low-life scumbags, you mean? That it’s virtually a part of their DNA?’

  ‘What was the hold they had over him?’ Angel said patiently.

  ‘It really doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. It’s got nothing to do with any of this other stuff.’

  Angel didn’t push him. It probably wasn’t important anyway.

  ‘Can you prove any of this?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Forrest said with a surprising amount of conviction. ‘But we need to clear something up first.’

  The faintest hint of a here-it-comes-now smile crossed Angel’s lips. He waited for Forrest to come out with it, not prepared to smooth the path for him in any way.

  ‘My father used me as his errand boy,’ Forrest said carefully, his eyes never leaving Angel’s, ‘and I had to do certain things—’

  ‘You want to know if there’s a deal on the table,’ Angel said.

  Forrest nodded. ‘Yes’

  Angel gave a soft smile and a softer shrug that implied such things were done every day. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem. If you help us take D’Amato out of circulation, you don’t have to worry. And I’m sure you didn’t have any choice in the matter anyway.’

  ‘Okay,’ Forrest said. ‘This is where it all ties in with your client,’ he added, looking across at Evan.

  Evan nodded intelligently and contributed an uh huh to the conversation.

  ‘They didn’t want money, they wanted drugs.’

  Angel stiffened.

  ‘Not the sort of drugs you’re probably thinking,’ Forrest said quickly, holding up a hand.

  ‘Go on,’ Angel said.

  If Evan had ever heard a yet-to-be-convinced tone of voice, that was it.

  ‘They wanted Ketamine,’ Forrest said, like that made it all okay. ‘You know what that is?’

  Angel and Evan both nodded. Things were falling into place.

  ‘How come you were able to supply them with it?’ Angel asked. ‘You’d need to be a doctor—’

  ‘Or a vet,’ Evan said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Forrest agreed. ‘Ketamine is used all the time in animal surgery’—he paused for unnecessary effect—‘particularly equine surgery.’

  They all sat back and looked at each other with obvious-when-you-think-about-it nods of the head.

  ‘And there’s no shortage of horses round here,’ Evan said. ‘Or vets to treat them.’

  ‘Most people get hold of it by breaking into veterinary clinics,’ Forrest said, ‘but the clinics increase their security and you run out of new clinics to break into. It’s much easier if you can just get it from a vet.’

  ‘And you can?’ Angel said.

  Forrest shrugged. Just another trick up my sleeve, it said.

  ‘We keep racehorses. The vet we use almost lives here. Do you have any idea how much money we pay in vet’s bills?’

  ‘I still don’t believe the guy would just give you as much ketamine as you asked for,’ Angel said, ‘so that you could pass it on to D’Amato.’

  Forrest didn’t answer him. He looked very uncomfortable under Angel’s scrutiny. He looked like he wished he’d asked for written confirmation of a deal.

  ‘Don’t tell me you were blackmailing him,’ Angel said.

  His voice had taken on a harder edge, his eyes—well, they were pretty unf
orgiving to begin with. The kind of eyes you don’t want to catch in a bar.

  ‘I wasn’t blackmailing him,’ Forrest snapped back.

  ‘Then what?’

  Evan watched the two of them. He’d have put money on the fact that he was about to get a lesson in semantics. Forrest didn’t let him down.

  ‘The guy has a gambling problem. He owed a lot of money to the sort of people who take the concept of a pound of flesh literally. I bailed him out a couple of times—’

  ‘Why? Because you’re such a nice guy?’

  ‘No. Because he’s such a great vet.’

  Angel and Forrest continued to stare at each other. Forrest broke the silence.

  ‘When I suggested he might want to keep the drugs here so that he didn’t have to carry them back-and-forth all the time, risk being car-jacked, he thought it was a great idea. We’ve both got a key to the cabinet.’

  Evan almost laughed out loud. Talk about weasel words. He wondered if Forrest had trained as a lawyer before becoming idle.

  Angel studied Forrest through narrowed eyes but didn’t say anything. Evan wondered if he was regretting his earlier assurances as much as Forrest regretted not getting them in writing.

  ‘You know what they want it for, don’t you,’ Forrest said, keen to move away from supply and onto usage.

  ‘We do now, thanks to Evan’s client.’

  ‘Ah yes, Jesse.’

  Evan hoped to hell the same look didn’t cross anyone’s face when his name was mentioned.

  ‘He came here to see me a couple of days ago.’

  ‘We know,’ Evan said. ‘He told you what had happened to him and asked you if you knew anything about it—and you said no.’ He managed not to point his finger at Forrest.

  Forrest shook his head. ‘I didn’t lie to him. He asked if the same thing had happened to me. I told him it hadn’t.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing, Mr Holier-Than-Thou. What did you expect me to say? No, but I did supply the drugs they used on you. Sorry about that.’

  ‘Why the change of heart?’ Angel asked, holding up a hand in Evan’s direction.