The Cypress House (44 page)

    "You
won't," Arlen said, and then he nodded to Rebecca. "Tell it."

    She
told it. Started with her father and wound through the past six months and the
threats that had been levied at her brother.

    When
she got to the part about Wade delivering Sorenson's hands, Barrett's face
darkened, and he said, "You let that pass? You took evidence and tossed it
into the sea? That's the level of cooperation you care to show?"

    "Cooperation
with whom?" she shot back. "Was I supposed to call Tolliver? All you
were to me was another local. And, I thought, a friend. Back then I didn't know
you were waiting to lock me up."

    He
scowled and put a cigarette in his mouth but didn't light it. "Go
on."

    She
went on. Up through Owen's return and Paul's last- minute disclosure. Then she
showed him the bag with the five thousand dollars. Barrett accepted the money
in the way Paul had — as if too harsh a touch would cause it to vanish. He
studied the bills, and then he put them back into the bag and returned them to
her.

    "Stealing
from Wade isn't a real bright idea," he said. "You been around here
long enough to know that."

    "Well,"
Arlen said, "you see, I intended to kill him. Today."

    Barrett
stared at him.

    "Yes,"
Arlen said. "Believe it. We didn't see any other way to get out of this.
Now we're hoping you're the way."

    Barrett
took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a long breath, then
rubbed a hand over his face.

    "There
are fifteen agents coming in tonight," he said. "Two boats on the
water, five cars on the roads. We had it set."

    "What
you'd have gotten," Arlen said, "was Owen for money- handling, and
the McGraths for dope-handling. Maybe you could have thrown something at
Rebecca. I'm sure you would have. And, if your boys had been paying enough
attention, you'd have had me for murder."

    Barrett
looked at him in silence.

    "You
could run the operation tonight," Arlen said, "and get the same
things. Except don't count on me to kill Wade now. It wouldn't seem
prudent."

    That
actually raised a smile, however faint.

    "We
could still get the McGraths," Barrett said. "If I can convince the
boys from Tampa to trust you, then we'll still come away with the
McGraths."

    "Is
that enough?" Arlen said.

    "They're
damned dangerous men. And important to Wade."

    "But
will they help you? Will they tell you anything that can help? I don't see Tate
McGrath rolling on Wade."

    Barrett's
silence confirmed that he didn't see it either.

    "You
can help, though," he said eventually. "Rebecca can help. You've got
plenty to tell. And are Sorenson's hands still around?"

    "They
are," Rebecca said.

    "Well,
that's something."

    "Is
it?" Arlen said. "Seems to me he could lawyer his way out. You got
two witnesses who say he brought them in. He'll find at least one, McGrath, who
will say that box was filled with chocolates when he dropped it off for
Rebecca."

    "Yeah,"
Barrett said softly.

    "You've
got to get him with something solid," Arlen said. "Get him with his
hand actually in the jar. And it doesn't sound like he reaches in too often.
Not with his own hand."

    "You're
saying we let it go off without a hitch?" Barrett said. "Let them
bring in their dope and take it out in trucks, without saying a word? It ain't
going to happen. Trust me on that. The badges in Tampa aren't going to let it
happen."

    "Look,"
Arlen said, "what it boils down to is this: without us, nothing happens
tonight. You don't get a damned thing, except for maybe the Cubans. Maybe. You
don't get anybody in Corridor County, that's for sure. With us, you can get the
McGraths. That leaves Wade, though, and it also leaves him knowing damn well
who set him up. So what do we do then? Shake your hand and go on our way and
wait for him to cut our throats?"

    Barrett
sighed and got to his feet, setting the cigarette down carefully on the edge of
the tire.

    "Let
me call Tampa," he said. "I'm not authorized to decide such a
thing."

    He
went back inside the shop, and they could hear him speaking in low tones to his
wife. Then it went quiet. Arlen put his hand on Rebecca's shoulder. She touched
it briefly with her own but didn't look at him.

    They'd
been in the garage with Barrett for maybe an hour, and already the morning sun
had faded beneath gray clouds. It would rain again today. Barrett was gone for
about twenty minutes before he stepped back inside. He closed the door and
leaned against it and studied them.

    "Tampa's
ready to grant you immunity," he said, "provided you keep the
exchange in motion tonight. If you derail it—if
anything
derails
it—they'll come at you with charges."

    "That's
a hell of a fair thing," Arlen said. "More of tonight is out of our
control than is in it."

    Barrett
shrugged. "They aren't impressed with your story."

    "Aren't
impressed
with it?" Rebecca said. "They aren't
impressed
with
the idea that this man,
this judge,
murdered my father, murdered Walter
Sorenson, threatened my brother, threatened me? They aren't —"

    Arlen
put his hand on her shoulder again, and she stopped and shook her head, her
mouth tight with anger.

    "Look,"
Barrett said, "I think it's a square deal. All you've got to do is make
sure things get off as they're supposed to. That's on your brother more than
you. He's the one running the show, right?"

    Rebecca
nodded.

    "Well,
make sure he runs it right," Barrett said, "and then you're good. You
can watch in shock and surprise when the McGraths are arrested."

    "That'll
be awfully convincing," Arlen said, "when they're arrested and we're
not."

    "Oh,
you will be."

    Rebecca
said,
"What?"
but Arlen finally began to get it, and he
nodded.

    "This
is how you remove us from Wade," he said. "Anything else, and he
smells the truth. If we all go down, he can't be sure who the leak is."

    "That's
right. And you'll be jailed out of county. You and the McGraths."

    "We'll
be jailed?" Rebecca said.

    "Only
on paper," Barrett said. "It all works right, we'll get you out of
here and to someplace safe. But you've got to testify against him when it comes
time."

    She
looked at Arlen, and he turned his palms up. "I don't like it
either," he said. "But I don't see another way."

    Barrett
nodded. "Your man's right. There ain't no other way. Not at this
point."

    There'd
been another way, and it was the way Arlen had been planning on until Paul's
disclosure. He wasn't convinced yet that it hadn't been a better plan either. A
man like Wade was easier to kill than he was to convict.

    "So
we just go home now?" Rebecca said. "That's the plan?"

    "Not
just yet," Barrett said. "First we wait on Tampa. There are a few men
coming up who'd like to meet you. I think they'll have some paperwork."

    "And
what will that say?"

    "That
you're protected," Barrett said, "provided tonight's little game
plays out like it was supposed to."

    They
sat around the garage as the heat seared in and choked the air and Barrett
continued to ask questions. The longer he went at it, the more Arlen thought
that he would probably make a damned fine lawman. He played all the right
notes. The harder his edge, the more he was bluffing you; the more casual he
got, the more focused his interest. Rebecca answered everything he had for her.
Told him details of her time at the Cypress House down to the last ounce of
morphine. She hid nothing.

    "Let
me ask you something, Barrett," Arlen said after nearly an hour had
passed. "You didn't so much as blink when Rebecca told you that she had
Walt Sorenson's hands in a cigar box."

    "Didn't
surprise me at all. Wade's men have done worse than that."

    "Surely
they have. But it doesn't seem like you believed Sorenson died in that Auburn
of his."

    Barrett
didn't answer.

    "There
was a body inside that car," Arlen said. "Whose was it? "

    Barrett
studied him for a long moment, then said, "George McGrath. Tate's oldest
son."

    Arlen
looked at Rebecca and saw dim recognition on her face.

    "You
knew him?" he said to her.

    "I've
seen him. He used to come around with Tate. Most of the time, in fact. Lately,
it was just Tate. Except for the night . . ."

    "When
he brought the whole family," Arlen said, thinking of the girl from
Cassadaga who'd waited in Tolliver's car with handcuffs around her wrists.
"That's why they all came, even the young ones. It was a family
matter."

    He
turned to Barrett. "Who killed George McGrath? Sorenson or David
Franklin?"

    "I
couldn't say, Wagner."

    "Bullshit."

    Barrett
sighed. "Look, I don't know. George McGrath was, like his daddy, muscle
for Solomon Wade. A thug, a killer. When someone steals from Wade, the McGraths
make them accountable. Walt Sorenson had been stealing from Wade. Skimming. We
know that. The rest . . . we're fairly certain of the rest."

    "Wade
sent the McGrath boy," Arlen said, "and Sorenson got the best of him.
That's how you see it."

    "That's
how I'm guessing it, yes. George McGrath disappeared a full day ahead of
Sorenson. A body burned in Sorenson's car, but it wasn't Sorenson's."

    "So
Franklin hauled the body down there," Arlen said. "And Rebecca, Paul,
and I were all supposed to tell them it was Sorenson inside. That was his
escape plan. Make them think he was dead, and make them uncertain of what had
happened to the McGrath boy."

    "That's
how we figure it, yes. Problem was, they knew who they'd sent George to kill.
That kept them from believing it was

    Sorenson
inside the car. And Sorenson . . ." Barrett's face went grim. "He
needed them to believe that was him inside the car."

    Arlen
sat in silence for a minute, trying to piece it together.

    "He
was out driving the countryside after he'd killed the boy?" he said.
"Why in the hell would he have done that? Why'd he keep making his
rounds?"

    "Cash,"
Barrett said simply. "When they went for him, he knew he'd have to run
mighty far. He needed the money to do it. That last round of collections was to
go right into his pockets. His, and Franklin's."

    "You
know all of this," Arlen said, "and yet nobody's been arrested.
Nobody's been —"

    "There's
a powerful difference between what we know happened and what we can prove
happened!" Barrett snapped. "Corridor County's full of whispers and
bare of witnesses."

    "That's
what you're supposed to fix," Rebecca said. "Isn't it? They need a
local man's help."

    Barrett
nodded. "They came to me almost a year ago. I was more than happy to help.
Somebody round here has to."

    "Many
people would," Rebecca said, "if they weren't so scared of the
results. And I don't know if they picked the right man for the job — you told
them I was working with Wade, doing it happily. Some judge of character."

    "I
didn't know much about you," he said evenly, "but I knew plenty about
your daddy, Rebecca, and every bone in that man's body ran crooked."

    She
stared at him in furious silence. Arlen watched her eyes and thought
,
He's
right, and she knows it. It was her old man got them into this, and he did it
with a grin on his face until he saw his son arrested. By then it was too late
.