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  “Listen to me, Detective. Dr. Box is in danger. Renee’s holdin’ him at the Royal Landmark Inn. Maybe they were havin’ sex when you arrested them, and maybe they were gettin’ along just fine. But sometime after that, she found out he was interested in me, and that’s when she sent me a threatenin’ message.”

  “What time was that, ma’am.”

  “About eight-thirty this evenin’.”

  “That’d be about forty minutes after we turned him loose.”

  “Can you please just go there and check on him?”

  He sighs. “I’ll phone it in.”

  “Thank you! Will you call me back?”

  “I will. But if this is just you, trying to get back at your sister for stealing your boyfriend—”

  “It’s not. And he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a mongrel dog who’d fuck a pile of rocks hopin’ to find a snake. But his life’s in danger, and I won’t feel better till you’ve checked on him. If he’s fine and happy bein’ with my sister, more power to him. My only intent is to make sure he’s safe.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “He’s been very generous to me. I owe him.”

  “Can you give me a little more to go on?”

  “My husband beat me half to death last night. Dr. Box saved my life.”

  The detective pauses. Then says, “Did your beating have anything to do with Dr. Box?”

  I sigh. “Not in the way you’re implyin’.”

  “Don’t make me sorry I’m doin’ this, Miss.”

  “It’s Missus. And the only reason you’d be sorry is if you wait too long to check on him.”

  50.

  Dr. Gideon Box.

  I CAN’T BELIEVE Renee’s still awake. I stretched my dinner into an eighty-minute marathon, and kept her talking long enough that she’s consumed an entire bottle of wine. With the cobbler finally gone, there’s nothing left to do but paint her nails.

  She positions herself on the bed, with four pillows propping her upper torso. She’s still naked from the waist down. Her legs are spread apart to give me the full view of her orange, heart-shaped bush. But just above it, I’ve got another view. She’s resting the butt of the gun on her stomach, aiming it point blank at my chest.

  I open the nail polish, and paint her toe nails as slowly as humanly possible, hoping she’ll fall asleep before I finish.

  “You’re being very meticulous,” she says. “I like that.”

  “You know what else you might like?” I say.

  “What’s that, honey?”

  “A foot massage.”

  That should put her to sleep and prevent me from having to receive detailed instructions in the art of giving oral to a crazy person.

  “A foot massage,” she says, dreamily. “How thoughtful. Yes, I’d like that, Darrell. Maybe we could do that after you kiss me. Down there.”

  Did she just call me Darrell?

  She did.

  And things start coming together for me.

  I say, “It must have been quite a shock when Trudy and Darrell found out they were brother and sister.”

  She gives me a long look and says, “That sounds like a lot of information for a waitress to give during a dinner service. And since we’re on the subject, I never believed for a minute my Daddy strung you up for pecking Trudy’s cheek after bringing your meal.”

  “I have to admire your father. Scooter.”

  “Why?”

  “If I found out my wife had a baby with another man, I’d probably resent her and the kid.”

  “That speaks to a character flaw in you, Gideon. A flaw you’ll be able to correct, with my help.”

  “Scooter and Darrell have become very close, considering they’re not related.”

  “My father’s a loving, giving man.”

  “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think your father and Darrell helped you kill your husband and best friend. And then I think you returned the favor by killing Aunt Lori when she won the lottery.”

  “She died from cancer.”

  “From what I understand, Lori’s cancer was in remission. I think you found a quicker way to get the money in Darrell’s hands.”

  “Good luck proving that. Aunt Lori was cremated.”

  “You know what else I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you hung Trudy’s mother and made it look like an accident. And I don’t think Scooter and Darrell know anything about that.”

  “Is that Trudy’s theory?” she says.

  I notice her eyelids are getting heavy. She’s got to be drunk enough to pass out. If I can just keep her talking long enough, she’ll drift off on her own, peacefully.

  “Is that what Trudy thinks?” she says.

  “No. It’s what I think.”

  She closes her eyes for several seconds. Then opens them and says, “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go ahead, then. Spill it all.”

  “I think somewhere along the line Darrell’s done some toenail painting and bud blooming of his own.”

  She smiles. “I said it before. You’ve got a fine mind, Gideon. If true, there’d be no shame in it. Darrell and I aren’t related.”

  “Except through marriage.”

  “You’re quibbling.”

  “Am I right?” I say. “About everything I said?”

  “If I did all those things, would it help you admire me?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I wonder. Still, I doubt you’d admire someone foolish enough to admit to a crime.”

  “There are no police here. Just us.”

  “I think I’ll let your theories about me remain unanswered. But I would like to know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How can you possibly believe I hung Lucy?”

  “It’s your father’s execution method of choice.”

  “Maybe he hung her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You think I did it hoping to please him? If so, why wouldn’t I tell him?”

  “You couldn’t. You had no way of knowing how he’d react to his daughter hanging his wife. I think you hung her for a different reason.”

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  “I think you grew up hating her, and blamed her for taking Scooter out of your life.”

  “I won’t deny that. But why would I hang her?”

  “To experience what your father feels when he hangs someone. You thought it would help you feel connected to him.”

  “I wonder if you’ll try to run these theories past the police.”

  “You think I give a shit about any of those people? Your husband, your best friend, your Aunt Lori, your step-mother, Lucy?”

  “I think you care about Trudy. And might want to share your feelings about how her mother died.”

  “I’ll tell you the truth. I never had sex with Trudy. But we did kiss, and I felt her up over her clothes. That’s it, and that’s the truth. Yes, I was hoping for more. But Scooter came along and bashed me in the head, dragged me to a barn, and tried to hang me. The beam broke and brought half the roof down on top of us. I was uninjured, Scooter sustained a broken leg. End of story.”

  “My Daddy’s leg is broken?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  The look on her face says she didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “He’s in the hospital in Starbucks. And hasn’t contacted you.”

  “He’s probably still sedated.”

  “Renee, if there’s one positive thing I can say for you, apart from your ability to kill, and your willingness to fuck total strangers, it’s that you’ve got a wonderful, nurturing spirit.”

  “Thank you, Gideon.”

  “It must be hard on you to realize your father doesn’t trust you to take care of him.”

  “He’ll contact me when he gets out of the hospital,” she says. “He alway
s does, and always will.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “We’ll nurse him back to health in no time! You’ll see.”

  “We?”

  “You and me.”

  “The man tried to hang me. Why would I take care of him?”

  “For one thing, you’re a doctor. For another, you took an oath. For another, it would help you clear up this silly misunderstanding.”

  “What misunderstanding?”

  “My father never tried to hang you.”

  “I’ve got a rope burn says you’re wrong.”

  “What you’ve got is an active imagination. And imagination’s a wonderful thing. It helps provide a context for our knowledge and experiences, and helps us make sense of the world around us.”

  “Do you ever get tired of hearing your voice?”

  She sighs. “I’ve tried, Gideon. I really have. But while I’ve tried to bring you joy, you’ve treated me with contempt, and scorn.”

  “Does this mean you’re ready to end our partnership?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Good. Because I’d rather bathe with pacus than be in a relationship with you.”

  “What are pacus?”

  “Testicle-eating fish.”

  “You’re just plain rude, aren’t you?”

  “I am for a fact. And you know why I’m comfortable saying all this?”

  “No.”

  “Because you don’t have the guts to shoot me.”

  “You honestly believe that?”

  “Sort of,” I say. “I mean, I know you’re a cold-blooded murderer, and I’m certain you’d shoot me without batting an eye. But not here. Not now. There’s no way you could explain it to the police. And it would open the door to closer scrutiny of your other crimes.”

  “So where does that put us?”

  “I believe it allows me to walk out of here unscathed. Which is exactly what I plan to do.”

  I stand.

  She raises the gun, aims it at my chest, and says, “Tell me again why I can’t shoot you?”

  “Because if you wound me, I’ll give eye-witness testimony against you. And if you kill me, my corpse will put you away for the rest of your life. Face it, Renee, you’re screwed.”

  She pulls the trigger.

  51.

  Trudy Lake.

  AN HOUR PASSES before my cell phone rings. It’s Detective Tan, from the Paducah police department.

  “Is he all right?” I ask.

  “Are you still in Starbucks? At the hospital?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need to talk with you, but I’d rather not do it on the phone.”

  “I’m still a patient, and I don’t own a car.”

  “It’s too late to do this now. Maybe I can come up there first thing in the morning.”

  “Sure, of course. Can you just tell me if Dr. Box is okay?”

  “We’re not sure.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “He’s missing. And so’s his car.”

  “What about Renee?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Not at this time.”

  “What about Dr. Box’s cell phone?”

  “That’s a helluva good question, Miss. Hang on.”

  The line goes quiet for several minutes. Then he says, “That’s missing too.”

  “Oh my God!” I shout. “Thank God!”

  “Ma’am? Why is the missing cell phone such good news?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Detective. And thanks for your help.”

  I terminate the call and answer the call that got me so excited.

  “Gideon! Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” he says.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Trudy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you still open to the road trip?”

  “If you would’ve asked me ninety minutes ago I’d have said yes in a heartbeat.”

  “But now?”

  “Can I ask you four questions?”

  “Yes. If I can ask you one.”

  “You’ll have to answer honestly.”

  “You too.”

  “I’ll start,” I say. “First, did you fuck my sister today?”

  “Yes.”

  I close my eyes, shake my head. “Why?”

  “Is that your second question?”

  “Yes. I had another one in case the answer was no.”

  “Okay. So the question is why did I have sex with your sister? The short answer is I didn’t know Renee was your sister. The complete answer is she was one of three women I’d been writing to, on the internet for several weeks.”

  “Faith Hemphill, Renee Williams, and Zander Evans.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Small towns, Gideon. People talk.”

  “Still.”

  “Question three. Where are you?”

  “Less than a mile from you. In a motel.”

  “Why?”

  “Is that question four?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll answer it anyway. I’m staying here tonight so I can see you tomorrow. And if you decide you want to come to New York with me, I’ll keep staying here till you’re ready to travel.”

  “Question four. What happened tonight? After you were cleared of the robbery.”

  “You know about the robbery?”

  “Small towns, Gideon.”

  “Right. So anyway, I go back to my hotel room after being framed for robbing the bowling alley—”

  “With Zander Evans—”

  “Yes, and there’s a knock at the door. I open it and—”

  “It’s my sister, Renee—”

  “Right, and I can give you the long version tomorrow, but the short version is she wanted us to be a couple, and I found out she was your sister and I didn’t want to see her anymore. She took it hard and pulled a gun on me. We got into an argument, and she tried to shoot me.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “You’ve asked four questions.”

  “You never finished the fourth one.”

  “I told you she tried to shoot me.”

  “My question was ‘what happened tonight?’ You haven’t told me the rest.”

  “She aimed the gun at me, pulled the trigger, nothing happened. She pulled the trigger again, and it clicked.”

  “Did she forget to load it?”

  “No. It was a revolver. I could see the bullets. But they didn’t fire.”

  “Renee knows how to shoot a gun.”

  “Believe me, she was more stunned than I was!”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I packed up my shit, grabbed my cell phone, and left her there.”

  “She didn’t put up a fight to make you stay?”

  “No.”

  “Weird.”

  “You think you can forgive me for having sex with your sister?”

  “Is that your question?”

  “No. Forget that one.”

  “Okay,” I say, relieved. “What’s your question?”

  “Renee said you’ve got a history of handcuffing men to the fence behind the restaurant and blowing them. What I want to know is—”

  “I’ll have to call you back!” I say, and hang up.

  That fucking Renee!

  I take a deep breath, call him back and say, “Sorry about that. I can’t really talk right now because Clem keeps poking his head in the door. I think we both have some explaining to do, and we can do it tomorrow, after the detective finishes talking to me.”

  “What detective?”

  “The one from Paducah. He’s driving here to meet me first thing in the morning.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants to tell me something.”

  “About me?”

  “I guess. Or Renee. Or both of you.”

  “Will you call me when he leaves?”

  “Yes.”

 
; 52.

  Dr. Gideon Box.

  THE DISPLAY ON my cell phone says Trudy’s calling. I answer with, “Has the detective gone?”

  “No. He wants to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants you to make a statement.”

  “With you there?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. But I told him you were alive, and here in town.”

  “I can be there in five minutes,” I say.

  I get there, say hi to Trudy, and she introduces me to Detective Tan, who immediately takes me to the hospital chapel and records my statement. When that’s done, he fills me in on what happened after I left the hotel.

  Renee flew into a drunken rage and trashed the room. When the other hotel guests complained, the front desk called the room and got no answer. They sent a security guy to check things out. After knocking and getting no response, he opened the door with his pass key. Found Renee passed out on the bed with a gun beside her. Moments later a policeman showed up, thanks to Trudy’s concern for my safety. When they try to rouse Renee, she babbles an amazing story about killing her husband and her best friend, strangling Aunt Lori, and lynching her step mother.

  “I believe all those things are true,” I say.

  Detective Tan says, “So do I. But there’s no proof, and drunk babbling does not a confession make.”

  “Why not?”

  “The defense team will hire ten psychiatrists who’ll swear that drunk people often confess to crimes they’ve never committed. And they’re right. By way of example, my wife had too much to drink one night, and—I shit you not—confessed to killing Elvis.”

  “Maybe she did.”

  “She was eight months old when Elvis died.”

  “I’m assuming you didn’t haul her ass to jail.”

  “No. And I won’t be hauling Renee there, either.”

  “What about the gun?”

  “She’s got a permit. We’re doing ballistics on it, but my guess is it’ll come back clean.”

  “Why am I alive?”

  “That I can’t answer, assuming your story’s true. If it is, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

  I go back to Trudy’s room and give her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Is he bothering you, Trudy?” Clem says.

  “Can you give us some privacy, Clem?” she says.