Dirty Game. Jessie Keane

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it for him.”

      “You’ve seen his drawings, then?” I asked.

      Gerry gave me a hollow look and nodded. “Until today I honestly thought they were just drawings,” he said.

      “The girl in the video,” Mel said. “Did you recognize her?”

      “No.”

      “Is there a chance that she’s a friend of your grandson’s?”

      “I doubt it,” Gerry said. “As far as Marsha and I can tell, Josh doesn’t have many friends, at least none who ever come here to visit.”

      I surmised that the rope-ladder routine meant Josh did have friends somewhere, just ones he couldn’t or didn’t want to bring back to the house.

      The governor chose that moment to return from what must have been a fairly distant kitchen. When Marsha walked into the living room she was carrying a tray stacked with sandwiches. A slim blond girl wearing short shorts and an even shorter tank top followed her. The girl carried a second tray loaded with glasses, spoons, various sweeteners, and a pitcher of iced tea. The hair, the skin, the vivid blue eyes indelibly marked this sweet young thing as her mother’s daughter.

      “Zoe, this is Mr. Beaumont and Ms. Soames,” Marsha said. “These are the people I was telling you about. This is Zoe, my younger daughter. Would you please go get Gerry’s prescription bottle off the counter in his bathroom? It’s the one he’s supposed to take every four hours.”

      Zoe gave us a quick smile, then dashed off to do as bidden while Marsha handed out paper napkins. Mel took the tray of sandwiches and passed it around while Marsha poured the iced tea. Then she settled on a straight-backed chair and pulled it close to Gerry’s.

      “I suppose you’ve told them the whole sordid mess?”

      Gerry nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I have.”

      Zoe returned to the room with a pill bottle. She handed that to her stepfather, grabbed two sandwiches from the stack, and then raced off in the direction of the stairs.

      “Zoe,” Marsha commanded. “Remember your manners.”

      Zoe slid to a stop on the hardwood floor on the landing. “Nice meeting you,” she said over her shoulder. “Bye.” Then she disappeared up the stairs.

      The truth is, Governor Longmire wasn’t much of a cook. The iced tea was okay, but the tuna sandwiches were just that—tuna. There was butter on the bread, but that was it. No mayo. No seasoning of any kind. If this was Marsha’s idea of feeding folks, the whole family must have dreaded the cook’s day off.

      Once Zoe was gone, Marsha reached out and gave Gerry’s knee a comforting pat.

      “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said. “When I found out he’d been sneaking in and out of the house, I just went ballistic. I couldn’t believe he’d pull a stunt like that with you so sick. I thought that taking away his electronic equipment was the only punishment that would have any kind of impact, but then when I saw the video …”

      “I know,” her husband said. “I’m sure you did the right thing. That goes for calling in Garvin as well. But if Josh really did do this terrible thing”—Gerry paused for a moment, gathering himself—“then I should pack up and move the two of us out of here right now. None of this has leaked into the public yet, has it?”

      That question was directed at Mel and me. We both shook our heads.

      “That’s a blessing,” Gerry said. “But it’s a reprieve that won’t last long. Even if these folks don’t do it, someone will leak word to the press. Once that happens, the opposition will be calling for your head on a platter. The party will drop you like a hot potato. Just you wait, the next time you’re up for reelection, the party bigwigs will be backing someone else in the primary. If Josh and I leave now, before this all hits the fan, we might be able to do some damage control.”

      “You’re not leaving,” Marsha said firmly. “Neither one of you is leaving.”

      There were steps on the stairs—heavy steps—that were definitely not Zoe’s.

      Garvin McCarthy poked his head around the end of the archway. “You shouldn’t be talking to these people,” he said curtly, addressing the governor. “You shouldn’t, and neither should your husband.”

      I didn’t like it that he spoke about the First Husband rather than to the First Husband when Gerry Willis was right there in the room. Subtract two points from Mr. McCarthy, although, being a criminal defense lawyer, in my book he was already in negative territory to begin with.

      “Call me at the office,” McCarthy added. “Or on my cell. You have them both.”

      Marsha nodded.

      “Don’t bother showing me out,” he added gruffly. “I know the way.”

      “He’s an arrogant bastard, but he’s also the best money can buy,” Marsha said, turning to Gerry. “He’ll do what needs to be done.”

      This time Gerry was the one who nodded. For the first time, he looked ill. His skin color had faded. Obviously Marsha was right and this was too much for him.

      “I think I need to go back to bed for a while,” he said.

      Marsha jumped to her feet. “Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?”

      “No,” he said. “Don’t call the doctor, and you don’t need to come with me. I just need to lie down for a while. I believe I overdid it.”

      He rolled himself out of the room while Marsha subsided onto her chair. She waited until Gerry was out of earshot, then she turned to Mel and me.

      “Just you wait,” she said. “If this kills him, I’ll strangle that little shit with my own two hands, and you may quote me on that.”

       CHAPTER 7

      BEFORE LEAVING THE GOVERNOR’S MANSION, WE EACH gave Marsha Longmire our business cards loaded with the full collection of contact information. She looked at the cards and nodded. “I’ll be keeping a very close eye on Josh,” she said. “He won’t be going anywhere or doing anything without my knowing about it.”

      What was it my mother used to say? Something about locking the barn door after the horse was already gone. I decided against passing that bit of folk wisdom along to the governor.

      “Good idea,” I said.

      Once outside, I loaded the evidence boxes into the backseat of Mel’s Cayman. “Next stop Todd Hatcher?” she asked.

      I nodded.

      “Do you have an address?”

      “I’ll call Ross’s office and get it.”

      While we had been in the governor’s mansion, we’d had our phones turned off. Two of the missed calls on my phone were from Katie Dunn, Ross’s secretary. One of the missed СКАЧАТЬ