Hour Game полностью

"It's not just Junior's death, it's my father. It's no secret that they had a rocky marriage at times, so some people suspect she killed him. I'm not sure that's something she can survive."

"Before we meet with Remmy, you might want to see if she'll tell you what was in her closet that was stolen."

He looked puzzled. "I thought it was just her ring and cash and stuff."

"No, there was something else. Something she wanted back so badly that she offered Junior a lot of money for its return."

Eddie gripped the wheel tighter. "What the hell could it be?"

"I'm hoping you can find out. If she'll tell anyone, I'm assuming she'll tell you."

"I'll try, Michelle, I'll give it my best shot."

He drove her home and walked her up to the door.

"When you come over to speak to Mom, drop by my place afterward, and I'll show you and Sean some of my paintings."

Michelle's face lit up. "I'd like that, Eddie, I'd like that a lot. Well, thanks for a wonderful evening. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

He took a deep bow, and when he stood again, he handed her his plumed hat. "For you, milady." He added, "Hell, I haven't had this much fun in the last twenty years."

They stood there awkwardly, not looking at each other, for a long moment, and then Eddie put out his hand, which she immediately shook. "Well, good night," he said.

"Good night, Eddie."

As he drove off with the horse trailer behind his truck, Michelle stood there fingering his cavalry hat and staring after him.

Michelle had very infrequently allowed herself to think about a long-term relationship with a man. First had come the goal of being an Olympian, then a street cop, and then over the next decade she'd pounded her way through the intricacies and hardships of being a Secret Service agent. Those had been her expectations, her career goals, and she'd met each head-on and conquered them. Now at thirty-two, having settled down in a small town and started a new career, thoughts had begun to creep in about the possibilities of something else besides work, besides clawing her way to the pinnacle of a new career. She'd never really envisioned herself as a mother-though she had no reason to believe she couldn't be a good one-but she could see herself as someone's wife.

She stared at the swirl of dust lingering behind Eddie's departed truck.

And once again she heard Sean's warning ringing in her ears. Eddiewas married, if unhappily. And so for her that was the end of it.

She went inside and spent the next hour kicking the crap out of her heavy bag.

WHILE MICHELLE WAS AT THE reenactment, King received a phone call from Sylvia Diaz at his houseboat.

"We missed you at the funeral and the reception," he said.

"Well, I didn't know the Battles, and I obviously wasn't invited to the reception. And crashing an event like that didn't seem to be a stellar idea."

"You missed some interesting developments." He explained about Remmy and Lulu Oxley but didn't mention seeing Sally Wainwright at Junior's grave. The fewer people who knew about that right now, the better, he thought.

"I need to talk to you. Are you free for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"You sound stressed. Anything wrong?"

"Sean, I think something is very wrong."

That evening King drove to a restaurant on the outskirts of Charlottesville. Sylvia hadn't wanted to meet in Wrightsburg. Her cryptic response to his question had left him full of curiosity. When they were seated at a private table in the back, he didn't waste any time. "Okay, what's going on?"

Sylvia launched into her discovery of Kyle's theft of the prescription drugs and seeing the mysterious woman at the Aphrodisiac.

King sat back, puzzled. "You didn't recognize her voice?"

"No, it was muffled by the door. Kyle obviously didn't know who she was either. And she was armed, so I didn't want to push my luck in finding out."

"No, you did the right thing. A thousand dollars a pop; that should narrow the list down."

"Obviously a wealthy woman or one with access to money."

"I thought it was only the dancers who stayed in those rooms."

"Well, I can't be sure that it wasn't one of the dancers," replied Sylvia. "From what I heard she performed some sort of striptease for him, although he became furious when it didn't end in sexual intercourse. I remember him clearly yelling at her for ‘shaking her naked ass' right in front of him and then not letting him ‘do her,' something vulgar like that. I certainly never saw that side of him at work, thank God."

"What sort of drugs are we talking?"

"Painkillers mostly, but potent ones. Some that if you circumvent the time-release component, or take too many, can give you a very dramatic shock, sometimes life-threatening."

"And you saw her leave?"