Chapter 14
Wim pounded on the door long and loud enough that even a deaf old fart should be able to hear the racket. As he slipped the key in the lock, he hoped to God the drunken bastard hadn’t kicked the bucket. Losing the blackmail payments—even as sporadic as they’d been of late—would put a dent in his cash flow, just when he was in danger of losing his shirt with the lake project.
“Lawson?” Wim shoved at the door only to have it catch on some kind of chain. “What the f*ck? Purnell! Open the goddamned door!”
Nothing. As much as Wim hated to scuff his new Gucci tassel loafers, he wasn’t left with much of a choice. He drew back his right foot and kicked the center bottom of the door.
It hurt like shit, but the chain broke away from the wood frame. He hobbled into the small foyer, shut the door behind him, and wandered into the barely lit living room. He gasped at what greeted him.
Dammit to hell! Purnell Lawson was dead, sprawled out on the chair with one arm flung out to the side and booze soaking into the carpet again. Wim figured he couldn’t have been gone long since his skin still had a pinkish cast to it. As much as it pained him to have to deal with hip-hop Halliday, he pulled out his cell phone and began to dial the sheriff’s office.
“Schnorrf!”
Wim nearly pissed himself. The sound Lawson just made must have been some kind of snort in his sleep. With a sigh, Wim slipped his phone back into his pants pocket and tapped his loafer against Lawon’s pants leg. “Git up! I thought you were dead!”
Purnell smacked his lips and waved his hand around like he was chasing off a fly.
“Wake up!”
The old man’s eyes flew open and he tried to right himself in the chair, an ordeal that was painful for Wim to watch. Lawson looked like an old walrus flailing on dry land.
“What the hell do you want? How did you get in here?”
Wim shrugged. “Kicked your door in, you old f*cker. Now wake up. We need to talk.”
Lawson groaned loudly and held his face in his hands. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled.
“Not an option.” Wim kicked the old guy in the shin.
“I should just blow your head off,” he slurred.
“Here’s the situation,” Wim said, deciding to cut to it. He didn’t want to stay in this rotten-smelling hole any longer than he absolutely had to. “Four preconstruction contracts fell through today. All after the Bigler Bungle started running pictures and sob stories about that little dead slut.”
Purnell make a pathetic croaking sound, face still buried in his hands.
“And at nearly three hundred grand per, we’re looking at a lot of f*cking money! My money, Lawson! You’re responsible! You got to do something!”
The old pecker shook his head but didn’t raise his eyes. Wim had reached the end of his patience. “Fine,” he said, pulling out his cell phone again. “Who gives a shit, right? I’ll just call Sheriff Snoop Dogg and have him come pick up your sorry ass for murder. It’s long past time somebody went to jail for killing her, right? Hey, maybe I’ll get a reward.”
That got his attention. But instead of looking fearful when he glanced up, Lawson seemed amused. “Even you wouldn’t do something that stupid,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “You’re just as guilty as I am, son. If you turn me in, you expose your daddy for the devious, lying blob of spit he was—and yourself for being his idiot accomplice. Then guess what happens?”
Wim began trembling with anger. “What the f*ck do you know about anything?”
Lawson laughed hard, his laughter changing to a hacking cough within seconds. “I know you ain’t got the sense God gave a goat, boy, because as soon as you turn me in, your blackmail scheme gets exposed, and every piece of property and every building and every parking lot that dirty money has paid for over the last forty-odd years gets taken away. Is that simple enough for you? Now get your ass out of here or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Wim’s eyes flew wide as Lawson reached down into the chair cushion and pulled out a handgun.
“Git,” the old man said. “I’m just starting to understand how your daddy stole my life from me—it would only be fair if I took yours.”
“Right,” Wim said, managing a smile while checking that the gun’s safety was still engaged. “Shoot me, you old motherf*cker.”
Lawson’s hand shook violently. At this rate, Wim figured he’d be dropping the gun in about three seconds.
“The worst is your kids and grandkids, isn’t it?” Wim continued. “Just imagine how they’ll react to the news that sweet ole Pappy murdered an innocent girl. And what about Garland? Don’t you think when this whole mess unravels it’s gonna kill your best buddy to know how you’ve used him all this time? That you’ve lied and stolen from him half your lives?”
Click.
“Forget it,” Wim said. “You’re useless to me. To everyone.” He turned around and headed for the door, fairly confident Lawson wouldn’t pull the trigger. And even if he did, he’d be shaking too much to hit his mark.