I’m soaked with sweat when I near the back of the chalet, approaching it from Washington Street, just as I did two days ago. Once again I trot through my neighbor’s backyard and steal through the rear gate of the fence that borders my property.
Looking up, I cry out in surprise and nearly collide with a man trying to exit through the same gate. At first I assume it’s a trespassing reporter, but then I see that it’s John Kaiser. Kaiser looks at me rather sheepishly, an expression I’ve never seen on his face.
“John? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to Avery.”
Kaiser talking to Quentin? “What about? Will Devine?”
“I can’t tell you. And you know I don’t say that easily.”
I take hold of his upper arm. “You’re kidding, right? This case means my father’s life. What would you hold back from me?”
The pain in his eyes is clear, but so is his commitment to silence. “I’m sorry, Penn. All I can tell you is talk to Quentin.”
“He’s not going to tell me anything. Look, the Devines promised me they would testify for Dad. Are they going to come through on that?”
His face tightens again. “I’m working to make that happen.”
“Have you got the plea deal signed or not? Is the U.S. attorney cooperating?”
Kaiser closes his eyes as though wrestling with a desire to come clean. When he opens them, though, I still see his professional shield in place. “Penn, I want your father to be acquitted. But in the end, I’m here representing the Bureau. That’s all I can tell you right now. I know it sucks, but a lot of things about this job suck. Same as being a prosecutor or a mayor. Now, I need to go. Court’s going to start back up soon.”
“What about the bomb at Judge Elder’s house?”
“A hoax, apparently.”
Again I wonder if Lincoln Turner called in the threat to empty the courtroom and get access to me.
“What are you doing here?” Kaiser asks, suddenly realizing that my being here makes little sense.
For an instant I’m tempted to tell him about Lincoln and the tape, but the impulse passes. “Doris is having a problem with the security system. I promised her I’d come down and fix it.”
After a couple of seconds’ steady gaze, Kaiser grips my shoulder. “Keep the faith, man.”
“Faith? Do we still believe in the same things?”
After a single nod, the FBI agent turns and disappears through the back gate.
“We don’t need his damned tape,” Quentin says with finality. “And certainly not for no million bucks. Jesus. Do you even have that kind of money?”
His wheelchair sits just inside the back door to the kitchen of Edelweiss. A cup of coffee stands on the creamy marble counter behind him, an insulin syringe lying beside it. Doris is upstairs, supposedly taking a shower, though it’s midday.
“Don’t you think you should talk to Dad before you make that decision?” I ask.
“I don’t need to. I know what his answer would be. We’re damn sure not going to break the law to buy anything Lincoln Turner is selling. Under other circumstances, a sting operation might be appealing, but I’m not going to play those games with that boy.”
“You’d better be sure, Quentin. I heard the tape, and I recognized both Sonny Thornfield’s and Snake Knox’s voices. They threatened to kill Viola, and they did it between the time Viola returned to Natchez to die and the day of her death. You should have heard her, man. She taunted those bastards. She practically dared them to kill her. That tape is reasonable doubt on a silver platter, just like Lincoln said.”
“For one million dollars, paid in advance,” Quentin says skeptically.
“The money’s not the point. When you cross-examined Cora Revels, you asked her if any Klansmen or Double Eagles threatened Viola in those last weeks. I’m telling you now that there’s proof. Hard evidence. And you’re blowing me off?”
Quentin at last gives me his full attention. “What guarantee do you have that as soon as Lincoln gets the money, the original tape won’t go into the river, just like the copy did?”
“None.”
“But you’re still willing to pay?”
“I don’t know. A sting operation is probably the way to go, but we’d have to put it together fast.”
“They can’t do it in an hour. And Lincoln told you he wouldn’t talk to you anymore. Hell, that tape you saw go into the water was probably the original.”
“No. A guy like that isn’t going to dump his ace in the hole.”
“You have no idea what kind of guy he is. What you do know is that he just made his play. Now he’s at risk, so long as he has that tape.”
“Wrong. If the cops stopped him right now, he could claim he just found the tape. Only when he exchanges it for the money does he commit a crime, and even then, he could say he was just bringing it to me out of a sense of obligation.”
Quentin ponders what I’ve told him.
“We don’t need it,” he says finally. “Lincoln’s already hung himself.”
“How? You scared him, all right, but what’s the other shoe?”
“You’ll find out soon. You just have to trust me until then.”
“How am I supposed to do that? You’ve been giving me the mushroom treatment from the beginning.”
“I’m sorry. You know that wasn’t my choice. Let me just say this: if Lincoln Turner knew what I have, he’d fill that big truck of his with gas and hightail it back to Chicago.”
“Are you talking about Will Devine? I saw Kaiser leaving here.”
The owlish eyes flash. “You talked to him?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Kaiser didn’t tell you anything.”
“No. But you should.”
“I’ll tell you this: you’d be crazy to pay Lincoln Turner a dime. If you want to pay somebody a million dollars for an acquittal, pay me. I’ll guarantee it—even if I have to confess to killing Viola myself.”
Quentin’s grin does nothing to ease my anxiety.
“Seriously, Penn. Stay away from Lincoln. When you get twisted the way that boy was growing up . . . there’s just no hope. Let’s leave it at that.”
“He’s no boy anymore. He’s a grown man. A lawyer. And regardless of what happens in this case, he’s going to file a federal suit against Dad for violation of his mother’s civil rights. He’ll probably file a medical malpractice case as well. You know I’m right. That audiotape has value beyond this case. A million dollars might sound cheap before this mess is finished.”
Quentin reaches out and lays his hand on my forearm. “Listen to me. If I was worried, I’d be trying to buy that tape myself. But I’m not. When a crook like Lincoln Turner starts trying to work the system for revenge, he always screws up. Lincoln’s mistake is greed. Don’t play into it. Let him twist in the breeze. By the time I’m done with him, he won’t be filing shit against your father or anybody else. He’ll never get his license back.”
“And Will Devine? Do you have him now or not?”
Quentin taps the tip of his nose with his long forefinger. “Put it this way: If I get him, I’ll be happy to squeeze him like a rotten lemon. But if I don’t, I’m happy to proceed without him.” Quentin gives me a wink. “Remember . . . the Lord helps those that helps themselves.”
Chapter 54