“Yep. It was my great-grandpa’s.”
Davy touched the rosewood rail. “It’s like being in church. And you play on it every day.”
“But I never take the privilege for granted,” Phin said.
Davy met his eyes. “Harvard, you may not be a complete loss after all. What’s your game?”
Phin shrugged. “Your choice.”
“Straight pool,” Davy said, and Phin thought, Oh, hell, I don’t want to like you.
Davy added, “To fifty?”
“Works for me.”
Davy went over to the rack, picked up a cue, bounced it on its end and checked the tip.
“They’re all good,” Phin said.
“So I see,” Davy said. “Should have known. I beg your pardon.” He sounded sincere.
Phin won the break, and Davy racked for him without comment, keeping the front ball tight against the rest and treating the felt with the respect it deserved, and Phin picked up the break cue, interested to see what Davy had going for him.
An hour later, the score was 32–30 with Phin in the lead, but that was pretty much meaningless. Davy’s position play was flawless, and his concentration was complete: he’d been in stroke since his first shot. Even more impressive was his safety play. When he turned the table over with the cue ball frozen to the rail for the second time, Phin said, “Where did you learn to play?”
“My dad,” Davy said. “He has few skills, but the ones he has are sharp and profitable.”
Phin raised his eyebrows on the “profitable.” “We playing for money here?”
Davy shrugged. “We can. Makes no difference.”
Phin looked at the mess on the table. “How about twenty?”
Davy nodded. “Good bet. Enough to make you care but not enough to make you broke.”
Phin studied the table and decided that a safety was the better part of his valor, too. “So your daddy was a hustler.”
“Still is,” Davy said. “And not just at pool. He’s on the lam right now from a fraud charge.”
Phin caromed the cue ball off the four and buried it in a cluster, and Davy said, “Damn.”
“Thank you,” Phin said, and moved away from the table. “Zane Black mentioned your dad was . . . uh . . . colorful.”
“Zane did?” Davy looked thoughtful. “Now, why would he share that with you?”
“He was being helpful,” Phin said. “Explaining why Sophie was a bad influence.”
Davy’s face darkened, and for the first time Phin realized that he wasn’t just a slacker; Davy Dempsey might be dangerous. “Now that annoys me,” Davy said softly. “He shouldn’t have been talking about my sister.”
“Well, he’s dead, and I’m open to bad influences,” Phin said. “You going to take a shot here?”
Davy bent to the table and did a bridge shot over the two ball, a beauty of a shot that did exactly what it was supposed to, and Phin shook his head in admiration. Then Davy picked up the cue ball and handed it to him.
“Foul,” he said. “I brushed the two with my hand. That’s what I get for letting Zane in my head.”
Phin took the ball and said, “I didn’t see it.”
“I did,” Davy said, and moved out of Phin’s sight line.
Phin nodded and studied the table. If he could pocket the two, there was a possibility he could run the table. He put the cue ball down in position so that he could draw it back after he hit the two.
“That’s what I would have done,” Davy said ruefully from the side, as the two went in. “So you think my sister’s a bad influence?”
Phin studied the table. “I think your sister’s a hell of a woman, but I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Well, we’re going to have to,” Davy said. “Because that’s what I came for.”
“And I was hoping it was for the pool.” Phin took his shot, but his ball missed the pocket by a fraction of an inch. Concentration is everything, he thought, and wondered if Davy had brought up the subject of Sophie to break his.
“Here’s the deal with Sophie,” Davy said as he took the table. “She’s the finest person I know, so she should get everything she wants. Now, for some reason, she wants that ugly farmhouse, that stupid dog, and you.” Davy chalked his cue. “None of which I would have picked for her, but then, Sophie has always walked her own path.” He shot a plain vanilla draw shot with such elegance that Phin forgot about Sophie for a minute.
“It’s a pleasure to watch you play pool,” he told Davy, and Davy said, “I know. It’s the simple shots that make you love the game.”
“I really don’t want to like you,” Phin said.
Davy nodded. “I don’t want to like you, either, Harvard, but we’re stuck with each other because Sophie loves us.”
“I went to Michigan,” Phin said. “And Sophie doesn’t love me.”
“You know,” Davy said as he chalked and shot again, “if you paid as much attention to your personal life as you do to your pool game, you wouldn’t make these stupid mistakes. She’s in love with you. And you’d better love her back.”
“Is that a threat?” Phin said.
“Pretty much.” Davy scowled at the table as his next ball missed the pocket. “And that’s what I get for trying to talk and play at the same time. Look at that table. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
“Davy, I care about Sophie, but that’s it,” Phin said. “And I never promised her anything at all, so you can back off now.” Then he looked at the spread Davy had left him. “Christ, it’s Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Davy said. “I had plans for that table.” He sat down out of Phin’s sight line. “I’ll be over here in case you go blind and miss something. Now, about Sophie.”
“I’m finished talking about Sophie,” Phin said, and bent to make his shot.
“I’m not,” Davy said. “She never told you about how we grew up, did she?”
“Yeah, she did.” Phin made his shot and straightened to chalk his cue. “At least, she told me about your mom dying.”
“She did.” Davy seemed impressed. “So you know she’s been taking care of us ever since.”
Phin nodded.
“Well, it’s time she found a man to take care of her, and you’re the one she’s picked. You’re not my choice, Harvard. But you’re Sophie’s and you’re going to marry her.”
“No, I’m not.” Phin bent to take his shot.
“Why not?” Davy said. “Think about it. You could go home to Sophie every night.”
Phin looked at the ball, thought about Sophie at night, and miscued. Just a fraction of an inch, but pool is not a forgiving sport.
“Fuck,” he said, and Davy said, “That was my fault, talking to you like this.”
“No shit,” Phin said, and walked away from the table, annoyed with himself for falling for it.
“Take another shot,” Davy said.
Phin glared at him, and Davy said, “Right. I apologize for even saying it,” and took the table back.
“It was the Sophie-at-night bit, wasn’t it?” Davy said as he lined up his shot. “Sorry. It’s what I miss most about her. That quiet bit at the end of the day when we talked about everything.” He grinned at Phin over the top of his cue. “Of course, your nights with her are probably different.”
Phin thought about the hours he’d spent talking with Sophie. Before he fell into bed with her and lost his mind. “Slightly different.”
Davy nodded and began to run the table. When he was five balls from victory, he straightened and chalked his cue. “Here’s the thing. I learned early that life is full of cheats and liars.” He bent to the table and said, “I don’t believe in Santa Claus,” and hit his first ball into a pocket. “I don’t believe in the Easter Bunny.” Another ball went in. “And I don’t believe in the innate goodness of mankind.” A third ball went in.
“But I believe in Sophie.”
He pocketed the fourth ball and straightened to chalk, something that he should have
done three times before but that would have ruined the effect. Dumb pool but interesting psychology.
“And that’s why I’m going to make sure Sophie gets what she wants.” He smiled at Phin. “And what she wants is you, God help her.” He bent back to the table and said, “Game ball,” and Phin watched as he lined his cue up for the easy draw shot into the corner pocket that would take the game. Then Davy moved the cue a fraction of a fraction of an inch to the right, and shot.
And the ball jawed and bounced out again.
“I should never talk while I play this game,” Davy said philosophically, and walked away from the table.
Phin picked up his cue, chalked it, lined up the shot, and made the ball. Another rack later, he had the game. Then he turned to Davy, who was taking a twenty out of his wallet, and said, “On the very outside chance that we might play again, you should know that pool is the closest thing I have to a religion. Don’t you ever throw a game with me again.”
Davy went still and then nodded. “Fair enough. My apologies.” He put the twenty back in his wallet.
“You really thought that would make a difference?” Phin said.
“Well, it seemed like a smart thing to do,” Davy said. “Generally speaking, if you want something from somebody, it’s best to give him something, not beat him at his own game. I just didn’t realize who I was dealing with. Now I do.” He nodded at Phin. “It was a damn good game, Harvard. Thank you.”
Phin looked back at the table. “Yeah, it was. But I’m still not marrying your sister.”
“Why?” Davy said, and Phin blinked at him. “You have a great time with her, the sex is obviously terrific, she’s smart, she’s funny, she’s kind, she’s a wonderful mother, your kid’s crazy about her, and she loves you.” He shook his head. “I don’t see why you’re fighting this. You can’t say no to her anyway, or you’d have stopped coming out to the farm by now.”
“You can go now,” Phin said, annoyed.
“That would be best,” Davy said. “I think my work is done anyway.”
“And what work would that be?” Phin said as he followed him to lock the door behind him.
“I broke your concentration,” Davy said. “Sophie was already in your head, you just weren’t paying attention. Now she’ll be there all the time.”
“Don’t come back,” Phin said, and Davy laughed and went down the steps to the street.
Phin turned off the lights in the store and headed for the stairs to his apartment He was late to meet . . . Sophie. His steps slowed as he realized the rhythm he’d fallen into. Close the store, go out to the farm, kiss Sophie, and end the day. No wonder Davy thought he was the marrying kind. He was practically there already.
Well, the hell with that. Tonight he was staying home. Maybe Wes would want to play a little pool.
Oh, right, Wes would be dealing with the murder.
He picked up his car keys and went out into the rain to the police station, a little rattled that the murder wasn’t the most pressing thing on his mind.
Chapter Eleven
“Ed got the autopsy done,” Wes said from behind his desk when Phin came into his office. He didn’t sound happy. “There’s water in the lungs and it’s river water, but Zane didn’t drown.”
Phin dropped into the chair across from him. “So what killed him?”
Wes tossed the report onto his desk. “Heart attack.”
Phin leaned back. “That a joke?”
“No.” Wes poked the folder with his finger. “It’s in there. Necrosis in the heart muscle. Ed says his heart was a mess and probably had been most of his life.”
“He had blackouts,” Phin said. “Clea talked about them. She thought he did it for attention.”
“He did it for oxygen,” Wes said.
“So it’s not murder?” Phin shook his head. “That can’t be. A lot of people took a poke at this guy before he died. One of them must be responsible.”
“Ed said to wait for the forensic report on Monday, but none of the attacks would have been enough to kill him, and we can’t prove that any of them triggered the coronary, so we’ll have a hell of a time getting a murder conviction.” Wes’s jaw was tight and he looked madder than Phin had ever seen him. “Which doesn’t mean I’m not going to go after assault convictions, even though I have no clear motive, no weapon, and—oh, yeah—no fucking crime scene.”
“He wasn’t killed at the Tavern.”
“No,” Wes said. “That’s the good news. We’ve narrowed down our options. He was killed somewhere in southern Ohio, but not behind the Tavern.”
“You may be taking this too hard,” Phin said. “Davy said Zane was heading out the back door. And Ed said he’d been in the river. Did you look at the dock at the farm?”
“What a great idea,” Wes said flatly.
“Okay,” Phin said. “If you’re going to be surly, I’m going to leave.”
“I checked the farm dock, the Garvey dock, your dock, and Hildy’s dock, everything within walking distance given that Zane was drunk, and all points in between. Sent some samples to Cincinnati, but I’m not hopeful.”
“My dock?” Phin said. “I don’t—Oh, Junie’s dock. I don’t think Junie killed him, Wes.”
“I think he went in on that side of the river,” Wes said. “That would be consistent with the scrapes and cuts, if he fell off the high bank and through the brush. The bank on the farm side is just mud.”
“So he went out the back door and took the Old Bridge to the other side?” Phin shrugged. “Easy enough, but why?”
“That’s according to Davy,” Wes said. “I don’t think the truth is anything Davy Dempsey holds sacred.”
“The only thing Davy holds sacred is his sisters,” Phin said.
“Yeah,” Wes said, and waited.
“Sophie was with me from nine at the Tavern to about ten forty-five.”
“Pete ran over him a little after eleven-thirty,” Wes said. “That gives her forty-five minutes, but it doesn’t give her a motive. I ran a background check on everybody I could think of, which, by the way, solved our earlier mystery of why Stephen lied on that damn accident report. Virginia’s been picked up for reckless op several times in Cincinnati. Evidently traffic in the city makes her nervous.”
“Lot of points?”
“She’d have lost her license,” Wes said. “So Stephen took the heat and tried to bully the Dempseys.”
“Had he but known,” Phin said. “Wrong family to bully. Why wasn’t Stephen driving?”
“Don’t know,” Wes said. “I got the police report back on the Dempseys, too. Davy has a record.”
“Since Zane wasn’t defrauded to death, I think Davy’s still in the clear.”
“So you knew.” Wes picked up a pack of cigarettes from the mess of papers on his desk and shook one out.
“I knew he was on the con,” Phin said. “That didn’t seem relevant.”
“Anything is relevant.” Wes lit the cigarette and inhaled. “As you damn well know. Amy has a juvie record which is, of course, sealed. But the cop I talked to in Cincy remembered her well. And then, just for the hell of it, I checked Dad, too. The guy has a record you wouldn’t believe.”
“Temptation has a ‘no smoking in public offices’ ordinance,” Phin said. “And you kicked the habit two years ago.”
“You got a real genius for the obvious,” Wes said.
“So how do you feel about Amy’s juvie career?”
Wes frowned. “Really turned on.”
Phin nodded. “I’d have taken it that way, too. Still, falling for a bent woman is no reason to give yourself lung cancer. And since the Dempseys aren’t violent—”
“If the Dempseys were being blackmailed, they could turn that way.” Wes took a drag on the cigarette and then exhaled on a deeply felt sigh. “I used to think the Tuckers were crazed about family, but you guys can’t hold a candle to those three out at the farm. I think Zane was blackmailing people, and they’d have been prime c
andidates.”
“He tried with me,” Phin said. “He wasn’t too bright.”
“What every town needs,” Wes said. “A stupid blackmailer. I think he went after Frank, too. He was in today. He does not look good.”
“Well, he’s married to Georgia, who was fucking Zane,” Phin said. “Although, evidently not very well. You know, if Georgia could have killed Zane at the Tavern last night, she would have.”
“And, of course, there’s always Clea,” Wes said. “She’s capable of damn near anything, and so far I haven’t found that bank book everybody was talking about that she wanted so much and that I’m sure Davy was interested in, too. I’m going to Cincy tomorrow to look at Zane’s apartment, talk to the people at his work, but if that book’s not there, I’m going to have strong suspicions about Clea Whipple and Davy Dempsey.” He took another hit on the cigarette and added, “Zane talked to your mom, too. Yesterday afternoon, right after your pool game.”
“And we know this because . . . ?”
“Because that’s what Frank came in to tell me,” Wes said. “He also said Zane had talked to the Garveys and insulted Rachel and had something on the Dempseys. He was pretty much casting suspicion everywhere but at his family, although he did mention that Georgia was unstable.”
“Like that’s news,” Phin said. “I don’t suppose he mentioned his kid, who wants Zane’s wife.”
“No,” Wes said. “Didn’t mention that.”
Phin shook his head. “Christ, what a mess.”
Wes took another drag on the cigarette and then looked at it. “I wonder if we’ve confiscated any grass lately.”
“You could go bust the Coreys,” Phin said. “They paint stoned.”
“Dangerous of them,” Wes said. “The water tower is looking strange. Sort of bubbly. They’re going to have to paint it again. Wouldn’t want an accident up there.”
“Taking their stash would be for their own good,” Phin agreed.
“So what aren’t you telling me?” Wes said.
Phin sat there for a long moment, balancing loyalties, and then he said, “I didn’t leave voluntarily last night. I got kicked out when Davy came for Sophie.”
Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me Page 24