by Sandra Brown
else notices?"
"There are servants in the house, but they'll keep quiet if Duvall tells
them to. However, Remy's got a sister. She'll begin to wonder if she
hasn't already."
"Oh, it's Remy' now, is it?"
Ignoring the gibe, Burke took a slip of paper from the pocket of his
jeans and slapped it onto the counter."Here's my shopping list. Do you
have anything fresh?"
"Like what?"
"Vegetables. Fruit. She likes oranges."
"Likes oranges," Dredd repeated as he took a final drag on his cigarette
before grinding it out in the hollow belly of a ceramic
alligator."Burke, if I was a younger, stronger man, if I didn't like you
so much, I'd wrestle you down and hog-tie you to keep you from going
through with this business. But I am old, and not as strong as I used to
be, and I do like you. So all I've got to fight you with is a few words
of caution. I don't like messing in any other man's business, but "
"Here goes."
"Yeah. Here goes." Dredd blew out a cloud of smoke that he'd been
savoring in his lungs."Why don't you take that pretty lady on out of
here? If you like her, and she feels the same, why don't you two just
disappear? Get out while you can. Leave this business behind and go off
someplace together?"
"She wouldn't run away with me, Dredd. And even if she would, I wouldn't
leave this business, as you call it, unfinished."
"How's it going to wind up? Where's it going?"
"I don't know."
"But you know where it ain't going," Dredd said, emphasizing his
statement by jabbing a horny finger at Burke."It ain't going nowhere
nice."
"No, it's not."
Dredd tugged on his beard in exasperation."You've got your revenge on
Duvall," he said, raising his voice."You took his wife. Whether or not
you've screwed her, you've made your point with him. End it, Burke."
"It'll end when Duvall is dead."
"Why are you doing this? Why?"
"Because I have to!" he shouted. Then, ameliorating his tone, he said
irritably, "Just get the stuff so I can get out of here, okay?"
Grumbling beneath his breath, Dredd snatched up the list and began
gathering the items from his shelves and angrily tossing them into a
paper bag. Burke walked over to the pay phone, fed it coins, and placed
a call.
It was answered on the second ring."Good morning, Duvall," he said.
"I thought I might catch you up early."
"Basile."
Coming from Pinkie Duvall's lips, his name sounded like an epithet.
Good. He hoped to God he had become the lawyer's nemesis.
You have made one huge mistake, Basile, a larger, more suicidal mistake
than Stuart made when he ran into that warehouse."
"Kevin didn't know what he was up against. I do."
"Then you know that I'm going to kill you."
"Kill me? You've got to find me first, you motherfucker."
Burke hung up, but for several moments he stared thoughtfully into near
space. The man's wife had been kidnapped. She'd been missing for several
days, in the custody of a man who'd sworn vengeance. Yet Duvall hadn't
made a single inquiry about her well-being.
Burke repeated, this time with real feeling, "You motherfucker."
The dial tone filled Pinkie's ear."It wasn't long enough to trace, Mr.
Duvall," said an assistant from the adjoining office."Sorry. We can have
our man over at central trace it, but it'll take a while."
"It doesn't matter."
To the assistant's dismay, Duvall began to laugh, softly at first, then
with a sinister gusto. Looking across at Wayne Bardo, who was also
smiling, he said, "Basile sounded so goddamn complacent. The son of a
bitch doesn't know we already have him."
Bardo, sharing Duvall's good humor, dropped a manila folder onto his
desk."This will make your morning."
Pinkie read the label on the envelope as he dumped the contents onto his
desk."So soon? I'm impressed."
He thumbed through the black-and-white photos. They were grainy, the
quality hampered by distance, but the subjects in them were clearly
identifiable. Pinkie tsked."Shame, shame, Dr. Caruth." Then to Bardo:
"Get the new guy to bring the car around. I'm going to make a house
call."
Dredd had placed the staples in the boat by the time Burke rejoined him
on the pier."Found a couple of oranges," he muttered vrumdilv.
"Thanks."
"You got enough there to last you several days." Burke nodded, but
he was distracted by other concerns."Dredd I fanned Duvall's fire just
now, so watch yourself. First sign of trouble, you head for the swamp
and lose yourself."
"I can take care of myself, thank you, sonny. I may be old and gray, but
I'm not helpless."
"Listen to me," Burke said, making sure he had Dredd's undivided
attention."Anybody on Duvall's payroll you do not fuck around with.
Promise me you'll make yourself scarce if anyone suspicious comes
around. Be on guard."
"Okay, okay Aw, hell, there's the phone."
"I'll see you in a couple of days if not before."
Dredd headed back toward the shack, cursing either the ringing telephone
or Burke's admonition, Burke wasn't sure which. He was fond of the older
man. If anything happened to Dredd, he would never forgive himself for
involving him.
"Burke!
He'd covered only about twenty yards when he heard Dredd's shout above
the boat motor. He turned and looked, Dredd was signaling him back.
He brought the boat around, shouting, "What is it?"
"Telephone for you." His heart lurched. Had he miscalculated his
timing? Had Duvall traced the call that quickly? Was he on his way here
now? Adrenaline kicked in.
He leaped onto the pier before the boat came to a full stop."Who is it?"
"Your brother."
Burke drew up short."Joe?"
"How many you got?"
"What's he want? How'd he know to reach me here?"
"Shouldn't you be asking him?"
Burke jogged back to the shop and was breathing hard when he reached the
telephone."Joe?"
"Hey. Can't believe I'm actually speaking to you. I was calling to leave
a message with Dredd for you to phone me if you showed up at his place."
"You okay?"
"Hell, big brother, I'm fine. You're the one who's supposed to be in
trouble. At least everyone seems to think so."
"What are you talking about?"
"For starters, Doug Pat shows up here yesterday morning just after
daylight. He'd been driving most of the night and was about as glum as
anybody I've ever met."
"Over what?"
"Your mysterious disappearance. He hem-hawed around before coming right
out and saying that you were in a jam. Asked me did I know where you had
gone."
"To which you told him ..."
"The truth. I didn't know. I told him I might have a hunch, but family
loyalty being what it is, I wouldn't share my speculations."
"Good. Thanks, Joe."
"Hold it. There's more. While Linda was entertaining him in the kitchen,
I took a phone call in the den.
It was Mac Mccuen."
"Jeer. What did he want?"
"Same thing. His hints were a little more exaggerated "
"That's Mac."
"But I told him exactly what I told Doug Pat that I couldn't help him.
After Pat left, I tried twice to reach Dredd on the outside chance you
were at the fishing camp and the two of you had been in touch. Neither
of those calls was answered. I got sorta spooked, and thought maybe you
were in danger."
"I'm not."
'"Then why are Pat and this guy Mccuen convinced you are?
Mccuen doesn't take no for an answer."
"How well I know."
"He called again in the middle of the night, sounding even more strung
out than before. I told him to fuck off."
"Good."
"But, Burke, he called again this morning. By now, Linda's freaking out,
thinking you're dead or something. Mccuen's begging, swearing he means
you well, vowing that if I didn't tell him what he needed to know, we'd
be planning a funeral. He said that if I didn't shed light on your
whereabouts, you were as good as dead. So I did."
"Did what?"
"Shed light."
Burke backed into the wall, thumping it hard with his head.
"What's going on, Burke? Did I do the right thing?"
Burke couldn't fault his brother for divulging information to Mccuen.
Mac was persistent and persuasive. Joe's heart had been in the right
place."Don't worry about it."
"What's up? Is there something I can do? Pat said it was a confidential
police matter."
"Something like that."
"Burke, if you're in trouble ..."
"Listen, Joe, I'm sorry, but I haven't got much time." His mind was
clicking along at a furious pace. Now he began speaking just as rapidly.
"Don't interrupt, please. Just do what I'm telling you. Get out of town
for a few days. Take the family. Go by car, pay in cash. No credit
cards, no public transportation."
"What the hell "
"Do it!" Burke shouted."I love you, Linda, the kids. Do it."
After a moment, Joe reluctantly agreed."Okay. For how long?"
"I'll call your office and leave a message on voice mail. Get a new
retrieval code. Don't let anyone know where you're going. Clear?"
"Clear."
"And, Joe, call Nancy Stuart."
"Kev's widow?"
"Right. Tell her to take the boys and go somewhere. Same instructions.
Same urgency. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Thanks, Joe. What time did Mac call this morning?"
"Less than an hour ago."
"From New Orleans?"
"I suppose, yeah."
"Did you give him directions to Dredd's?"
,"NO. He wanted to bypass Dredd's and go straight to our cabin."
Shit! "Now I've really got to go. Take care, Joe."
He hung up and raced for the door. Dredd was on the galerie, blocking
his path. Burke dodged him with the alacrity of an NFL running back and
continued running down the pier without breaking his stride."Joe gave
Mac Mccuen directions to our cabin," he called over his shoulder.
"Damn. What side is Mccuen's bread buttered on?"
"I don't know. That's what worries me."
"Will somebody be with him?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. In any case, I've got to head him off."
"Want me to come along?"
"This is my problem, Dredd. Untie that line, please," he said as he
jumped into the boat.
"I had a problem once. You helped me."
"You've already helped. And I'll be eternally grateful." He started the
motor.-"By the way, you'll be glad to know your medicines worked.
Remy's wounds have healed. If something happens to me, be sure and tell
her ... Just ... Tell her I'm sorry for everything."
Mccuen mentally calculated the odds of his getting lost and figured them
very good.
He had rented the boat from a guy with more warts than teeth who claimed
never to have heard of the Basile brothers or their fishing camp. Mccuen
suspected him of lying and was glad he had Joe Basile's directions
written down. The locals seemed to regard the swamp as their terrain and
resented the intrusion of others.
As far as he was concerned, they could keep this godforsaken country to
themselves. He couldn't fathom why some rhapsodized the natural beauty
of the bayous and swamps of his native state. They were infested with
insects, snakes, alligators, bobcats, boars, and other wildlife, and he
wanted no part of any of it. Even as a kid he hadn't liked the great
outdoors. A horse-racing track was about the closest he wanted to get to
it. That and his own backyard.
Thoughts of home brought Toni to mind. God, what must she be thinking?
Last night, about the time he was supposed to be meeting Del Ray Jones
and Wayne Bardo, he'd been packing his young, beautiful wife off to her
mama in Jackson, Mississippi. When he began slinging her belongings into
suitcases, naturally she had become a trifle upset and demanded to know
what in hell was going on.
He'd improvised a cock-and-bull story about a drug dealer they'd busted,
who'd threatened the narcs involved in the sting with reprisals against
their families."It's probably just so much talk, but Pat advised us to
take the necessary precautions."
She'd bought the lie. But even if she hadn't, he wasn't giving her a
choice. She was getting safely out of town, period, end of argument
Duvall's deadline had expired and that wasn't going to go unnoticed.
They would come looking for him with the hunting instinct and
determination of bloodhounds.
Duvall's subtle remarks about Toni had got his attention just as the
attorney knew they would. Mac knew what Wayne Bardo was capable of doing
to a woman. He'd seen the eight-by-tens of murder scenes where Bardo was
implicated but never indicted.
So Toni had been shuttled out of town, and she would remain in Jackson
until this mess between Burke Basile and Pinkie Duvall was resolved one
way or another.
Goddamn, how had he gotten himself caught in the cross fire?
Of course he knew how. Gambling. His addiction was responsible for all
the wrong choices he'd made, and he'd made plenty. Every misdeed he'd
ever committed harkened back to supporting his habit. It was common
knowledge that he placed a bet or two here and there, but no one was
aware of the lengths to which he'd gone to cover debts not his folks, or
his wife, or the people he worked with. No one. But he knew. And his
conscience ate at him.
He swore to God that if he and Toni got out of this situation unscathed,
he would never make another wager as long as he lived.
But in the next breath, he bet himself a hundred to one that he would
break that vow.
Suddenly, there was the cabin.
Mac almost laughed out loud. When he'd set out in the boat, he didn't
believe he had a prayer of actually finding the place, but he had
followed Joe Basile's directions to a T, and, lo and behold, there it
was, just as Basile had described it, right down to the retreads
attached to the pier.
It was too late for approaching with ca
ution. In the desolate silence,
Basile had surely heard the boat's motor well before it came into view.
Right now, he was probably watching from one of the screened windows.
Mac's heart was knocking inside his chest as though it knew it was in
the crosshairs of a rifle's scope.
He killed the motor and let the small craft drift alongside the pier.
He called out, "I'm alone, Basile, and I've got to talk to you."
With both hands, he reached for one of the posts and held on, then
clumsily climbed out of the boat and secured the rope.
Although the day was cool, his pores were leaking nervous sweat.