Читать интересную книгу The Devils Punchbowl - Greg Iles

Sands dismisses this with a flick of his hand. “I have no worries on that score, Mr. Gilchrist.”

“J.B., please.”

“You know, of course, that the type of action we’re discussing is illegal, both in Mississippi and Louisiana.”

“Ain’t just about everything worth doing illegal? That'’s the way this country works. Pure hypocrisy, from Plymouth Rock on down.”

Sands sniffs and leans forward, subtly signaling that the meeting is over. “Which hotel are you staying at?”

“The Eola.”

“If you’ll call ahead on your next trip, we’ll comp you a suite at our hotel.”

“I appreciate it, but I’'ve got a soft spot for those grand old dames. The downtowns may be dying, but the great hotels soldier on, in the good towns anyway. Course, I don'’t mind putting the boys up in your hotel. We’ll make that part of the deal if it makes things easier.”

“It does simplify issues like transport.”

“It’s a deal, then.”

Walt gets up, not wanting to press, but Sands comes around his desk and says, “Are you interested in any special action during this visit? A test-drive, say?”

“A girl, you mean? Or the blood sport?”

“You seem quite able to manage the ladies on your own. I was thinking of sport.”

“Well, I wouldn'’t be against it. I got three, four more days here. I was planning on getting to know one of those little China girls better. But I'm open to anything. You get something good going, I'm in.”

Sands shakes Walt’s hand and leads him to the door with a smile. “I'm sure we can accommodate you.”

Walt has shaken a lot of hands in his life, and he knows the feel of great strength under restraint. The manager of the

Magnolia Queen

could tear a deck of cards in half.

CHAPTER

43

Kelly and Major McDavitt flew Annie and my mother back from Houston this afternoon, arriving at my house just after seven. My mother insisted on cooking for us. We tried to make Kelly eat, but he privately told me that he wanted to go down to the

Magnolia Queen

and make sure that Sands appeared to be keeping his part of the deal. “I like to know where my enemies are” was how he put it. Kelly expressed visible relief when Dad informed him that Sands’s guard dog had tested negative for rabies, and laughed that he might have to celebrate.

Living in the Texas safe house for a few days had been surprisingly comfortable, my mother claimed. The simple fact of separation had proved to be the ordeal. Though Mom sensed that the crisis that had necessitated their fleeing was not fully resolved, we assured Annie that the bad guys were all taken care of. When she asked why James Ervin and his brother were standing guard on the front porch and in the backyard, I told her that we just needed to play it safe for a couple of days.

“In case the bad guys’ friends are mad, right?” she said.

“Sort of,” I admitted.

My parents left a half hour ago, with James Ervin driving. His brother Elvin stayed behind to await Kelly’s return. Annie took a quick bath, then climbed into bed and called for me to tuck her in.

It’s obvious that being home has given her a great sense of relief, no matter how hard she pretends that living on the run was no big deal.

“The second house was scarier,” she says, looking up at me from the covers as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Why?”

“The first one was a condo, really. Like a vacation. But then Mr. Kelly called, and Mr. Jim said we had to move. The place he took us to then wasn'’t near as nice. I think it belonged to a lady he knew. The house was okay, but I could tell that Mr. Jim and his friends were worried. At the first house I never saw their guns, but at the second one, they had them out all the time.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, baby. But it’s over now.”

“How was Mr. Tim’s funeral? Was it sad?”

“It was. All funerals are sad, but when the dead person is young, it’s harder.”

Confusion clouds Annie’s eyes. “Mr. Tim wasn'’t young.”

I smile. “I guess I'm not either, then. He was the same age I am.”

“Well, you’re not

old,

” she says, obviously a little embarrassed. “But you’re not young either. I guess what I mean is, Mr. Tim seemed a lot older than you.”

“That'’s because he didn't take care of himself when he was young. He had some bad luck, and he”—I hesitate—“he turned to drugs to try to deal with it.”

“You don'’t have to tell me not to do drugs. I already know.”

“I know you do. But life looks different to people as they grow older. Fate always throws something you don'’t expect in your path, and sometimes it’s really tough.”

“Like Mom getting sick.”

The rush of emotion that hits me is almost dizzying. “Yes. Like that.” I look away for a moment and gather myself. “We’re okay, though. Right?”

Annie nods with reasonable certainty.

“I want to ask you a question, squirt. A big one, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What would you think if I wasn'’t the mayor anymore?”

Her eyes widen, but I can’t tell what she’s feeling. “What do you mean? Are you going to get voted out or something?”

“No, no. But for a while now I’'ve been thinking that I haven'’t been able to accomplish the things I wanted to. The things I wanted to change for you and the kids your age. I think only time is going to fix those things, and you and I only have a certain amount of time together. Time to get you the education you deserve, to—”

“What?”

“To

live,

I guess. It’s hard to explain, really.”

Annie works her mouth like someone trying to solve a difficult problem. “I liked it better when you just wrote books. You were home a lot more.”

“I sure was.”

“But to have things back like they were before, you’d have to quit, right?”

“Yes.”

“You always tell me never to quit, no matter what.”

“I know. I’'ve been struggling with that. But this job is about serving the people of the city. And if I'm not giving my full self to that job, then I'm betraying those people.”

Annie looks at the ceiling, considering.

“It’s been done before,” I tell her. “The last mayor resigned, remember? That'’s how I was elected, during a special election. That'’s what would happen this time.”

“But Mr. Doug had cancer. Who would be mayor if you stopped?”

I give her a smile. “I know someone who’s wanted to be mayor for a long time.”

“Not Mr. Johnson!”

Laughing at her sound political instincts, I say, “No, no. Shad’s always wanted it, but I was thinking of Paul Labry.”

Annie’s eyes brighten. “Yeah! Mr. Labry would be a great mayor. He’s so nice, and he likes being out talking to people on the streets. You don'’t like that part of the job so much. That'’s not good.”

“You see a lot, don'’t you?” I rub her head affectionately. “Annie, I think what I'm really feeling is this. Natchez was the right place for me to grow up, but I don'’t think it is for you. The town was different when I was a boy. I ran for mayor because I thought I could bring back some of the good ways life used to be, and at the same

time fix the things that were wrong back then. But that job’s too big for one person. I want us to be somewhere there are more kids like you—as smart as you—and also more who are different from you. I want you to be exposed to everything that’s out there. You deserve all that.”

She knots the blanket in her right hand and speaks in a voice that is subtly changed. “When you say ‘us,’ do you just mean you and me?”

This is the unspoken heart of our conversation.

“Well…you know my decision to run for mayor was probably the main reason that Caitlin and I broke up.”

“Uh-huh.”

That'’s why I'm asking this now, dummy,

her eyes seem to say. “But I don'’t think she really wanted to leave us.”

“I don'’t either.”

“She kept her house here.”

“Yes. And I think that house was sort of a symbol. A reminder that she was still out there, hoping I would come to her. But this town is too small for Caitlin. If we were all going to be together, I think it would have to be somewhere else. And I'm not sure that’s what you want, since you’d have to leave behind the friends you'’ve made here.”

Annie’s face can be difficult to read, but in this moment her mother’s eyes shine out at me with certainty. “I don'’t care where we live, Daddy. As long as we’re together.”

“By ‘we,’ do you mean you and me?”

Annie shakes her head. “I mean the three of us. I want Caitlin to be my mom. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

When the tears swell in the corners of my eyes, I turn and look toward the door.

Annie rises up and puts her arms around my neck. “It’s okay, Dad. I think even Mom would want that. She’d want us to be happy. She’d want you to have someone to take care of you.”

“And you,” I choke out.

“You’ve taken good care of me. But I think you’re right. I think it’s time to let Mr. Paul take care of the town, and us take care of each other.”

I lean down and hug her as tight as I dare. When I rise back up, she says, “I think Caitlin needs us too.”

This brings a wave of warmth into my chest. “I think you’re right. Now, you need to get some sleep.”

“I will. I'm glad to be in my own bed again.”

I smile, kiss her once more, then turn out the light and leave the room.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Kelly walking through the front door. He’s moving more slowly than usual, and his eyes look bleary. Then I see the Styrofoam cup in his hand. The smell of alcohol hits me with his first words.

“Hey, Penn, how’s everybody doing?”

“It’s all good. We’re glad to be back together. How about you? You okay?”

“I'm good.”

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “You look pretty out of it.”

“Well…I haven'’t done much sleeping since I got here. I don'’t need much, but I need some.”

“Well tonight you can finally get some.”

He gives an exaggerated nod. “Yep. I finally took me a drink too. I didn't want to buy one on the

Queen.

That fucking Quinn would love to get me that way. I'’ll bet he was watching me on the CCTVs the whole time.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Stopped at a little bar on the way back here, down on the corner of Canal Street. It’s called the Corner Bar, fittingly enough.” Kelly almost giggles, which makes me laugh.

“Dude, you need some serious sleep.”

“Yeah. I'm going to sit on the couch in the den for a while. Zone out and watch a movie. Will that bother Annie?”

“Nah. I do it all the time.”

“Hey,” Kelly says, as though just remembering something important. “I just saw Caitlin pull into her driveway.”

Something stirs in my chest. “Really?”

“Yeah. She didn't look too happy. I think you ought to go talk to her.”

“I don'’t think she wants that right now.”

“Bullshit. When you think they don'’t want to talk to you…that’s

exactly

when they want you to talk to them. Take it from me.”

The truth is, I very much want to talk to Caitlin. Before doubt can

stop me, I dial her cell and am surprised when she doesn’'t let it go to voice mail.

“Penn?” she says.

“Yes.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No. I was wondering if I could come over and talk to you.”

“I'm pretty wiped out, actually. Is it important?”

Kelly motions for me to push it. “I think it is. It won'’t take long.”

There’s a long silence. Then she says, “All right, I'’ll be on the porch.”

“Thanks. I'm on my way.”

“Way to go!” Kelly says, slapping my back. “I told you.”

As I smile back at him, I see that he must have had quite a few drinks at the Corner Bar. His eyes are bloodshot slits. But if anybody’s earned a few drinks, Kelly has.

“I'’ll see you, bro,” I say.

“I hope not. You need to stay over there tonight.”

“Is Carl there?”

“Yeah. But I'’ll text him to put some Kleenex in his ears. Go on, man. She’s waiting for you.”

I wave him off and hurry out.

CHAPTER

44

Caitlin waits on her porch with her arms folded, her hair down around her neck. She’s wearing a blue cashmere sweater and jeans, and from her expression I get the feeling she’s not planning on being out here long. I walk up the steps and stop a few feet short of her.

“Long day?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Yes and no. Lots to think about. No big epiphanies. What about you?”

“I did a lot of thinking during Tim’s funeral. About Annie, about the town. But about us, mostly.”

Caitlin doesn’'t prompt me to continue, but there’s no point backing away from it now. “I realized today that I lost you the first time because I was too idealistic, which you told me at the time. I wanted to do something that you thought was impossible, and I didn't really listen to your objections. I thought you didn't see the situation as deeply as I did, so I went on and did it anyway. And you left.”

She’s watching me with interest now. She doesn’'t often get abject admissions of fault from me.

“I really thought you were never coming back,” I go on. “But you did. And I think you were open to us when you came back. And the irony is, now I'm losing you again, only this time it’s because you want me to do something

I

think is impossible, at least for the time being. Now it’s your idealism that’s separating us.”

Her mouth opens in amazement. “So it’s

my

fault? That'’s what you’re saying?”

“No. I'm saying that you were right the first time. I was wrong to think I could save this town by myself. It was hubris. And though my parents raised me never to quit anything, I think that for a lot of reasons, the time has come for me to step down and focus on what the people I care about really need.”

She looks steadily back at me, but I can’t read her expression. Whatever she feels, it’s clearly not what I’d hoped for.

“I spoke to Paul Labry today about running for mayor after I resign.”