“Wishful thinking,” said Lamb. “Though to be fair, he looked like River might, if you put two bullets in his head. Which could yet happen, the aggravation he’s causing.”
“They got here about four.”
“He’s had more sleep than I’ve had, then.” Without warning, Lamb collapsed onto the two-seater sofa, which was stronger than it looked and didn’t buckle. “What was their story?”
“They didn’t really have one.”
“And you took them in?”
“River wouldn’t have come if he’d had anywhere else to go.”
“The last refuge of the desperate,” said Lamb. “Yeah, I can see how you fill that role.” He was holding a cigarette, of course: it had appeared in his hand by magic. He slotted it into his mouth and sucked it thoughtfully. “And now he’s off on a marvelous adventure.”
“What’s going on, Jackson?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“He arrived in the middle of the night, asked me to look after his grandfather, and left.”
“Always mistaking drama for style, that boy. You gunna keep hovering like that? Sit down. Make yourself at home.”
She simmered, but sat anyway: not on the sofa. She said, “He was in a state. Still is. Confused, not sure what’s happening. He called me Rose. Did he really shoot someone in his bathroom? Or was that just you playing games?”
“You have a nasty mind, Standish. It’s wasted on this.” He indicated their surroundings: a calm and quiet room, with books on the shelves. “And yes, he did.”
“Twice?”
“Good question. Know what? I don’t think so. Old, confused man, like you said, I think once he’s shot someone, first thing he’s gunna do is drop the gun. I hate ageism, as you know, but old people are pretty useless.”
“I can’t tell you how much I haven’t missed your observations.”
“That’s good, because I have more.”
He paused, and his eyes shifted focus; he was looking at something that wasn’t there. Catherine recognised the signs—as familiar to her as the way he deliberately misheard her comment—and knew he was about to spin a story from whatever fragments he’d so far collected.
“I think someone came to kill the old man,” he said, “and didn’t realise he’s a dangerous old fuck. So whoever it is ends up dead in the bathroom, and that’s when young Cartwright arrives for one of his cosy at-home evenings with grandpa. Anyone else, anyone sane, you know what they’d have done at this point? They’d have called it in. Not like the old man’s gunna get done for murder, no, what’d happen next is the Dogs arrive, followed by the cleaners, and twenty minutes later, it’s like it never happened. But that’s not what young Cartwright does. Why’s that?”
“You’re about to tell me.”
“Well, he’s a dick, obviously. We have to factor that in. But assuming he’s got an actual motive, beyond his tireless desire to play Double-Oh Seven, it’s probably that he thinks calling the Dogs will make things worse.”
“. . . Seriously?” She was putting it together even as he spoke. “He thinks it was a Service hit?”
“Well, it was a fuck-up. That’s circumstantial evidence right there. And if the old bastard’s actually gone loopy, the kid might have a point.”
“What, he was worried the Park has a, what have I heard it called, an enhanced retirement package?” she said. “That never really happened.”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“I’m saying I don’t believe it ever did.”
“And I’m the one gets called a wide-eyed idealist. But what you believe’s neither here nor there, because it’s what River thinks that matters in the circs. And he thinks if he calls the Dogs, they might just finish the job. So he puts another bullet into Mystery Man’s face—”
“He
“See? I knew you were interested.” Lamb removed the cigarette from his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. Then he fished another from his pocket and plugged it into his mouth. It was possible that he wasn’t aware of either of these actions. “He does that because while Mystery Man might pass for River, he’s hardly an identical twin.” He pressed a finger to his upper lip. “That mole of his, looks like he’s been eating crap and missed a bit? Mystery Man doesn’t have one, and that’s going to be noticed.”
“So he’s just muddying the waters.”
“It’s what a joe would do,” Lamb said grudgingly.
“It wouldn’t buy him more than twenty minutes.”
“He got this far, didn’t he? And then further. Where’d he head off to, by the way?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Lamb said, “See, I get told by HR all the time that I never give you lot training, and you know what I always say?”
“You tell them to fuck off.”
“Well, yeah, I tell them to fuck off, but you know what I say after that? I tell them I lead by example. Case in point. If I don’t like a question, I answer a different one. Like you did just there.” He gave a complacent smile, and the cigarette dropped from his mouth. He caught it between two fingers. “I didn’t ask whether River told you where he was going, I just asked where he was going.”
“What makes you think I know?”
“Because you’re not a great liar. You’re good, but you’re not great.”
“Excuse me? When did I lie?”
“When you pretended to believe me when I told you he was dead.”
