Turner Lockett had heard tales his whole life long about people “going mental” and laughed about them. He never considered it for himself, but now he was beginning to wonder. He searched the area around his trailer every morning and every night, but had found no footprints, man nor animal, yet he still heard the sounds. Heard them plain as day. Marsh-grass breaking, the sound of rubber boots walking on dry land, footsteps and a humming sound like a man, preoccupied with the performance of a task, making idle music.
He could feel eyes watching him. Shadows brought panic. When he did manage to doze off, there were dreams, serpents coiling around his body, dragging him through familiar places where everyone knew what he had done. Through it all, he saw Jared Barnes. When the blood got to boiling temperature in his veins, he woke up, wet from sweating beneath the covers he was under to ward off the phantom cold. And he cried.
Only on the water did he feel safe. He hadn’t left the trailer for weeks until Charley Clay sent him on some scouting trips for an off-load site. Once he was away from land, security seemed to surround him. He was drinking more, as well. Running the creeks, finding an isolated spot, anchoring and drinking, cleaned his mind. He could accept all the things that were happening as his own creation. Imagination. But whenever he came back to the trailer, it all returned and he couldn’t think. He was glad when Charley Clay contacted him, told him the company was in need of a secure off-load site and asked him to put an around-the-clock watch over the weekend on Skeeter Crewes place as well as Sam Larkin’s. They fit the profile for what The Company needed.
Heading west from Covington toward Charleston, Cedrick Hamilton saw the color of the sky deepening from pale blue to bruised purple and heard the distant rumble of thunder, low and growling like a dog who makes raw, guttural sounds just to tell you he’s mean. It was a dark and stormy night, he thought as he drove. It brought a guarded smile to his face, the first smile of any kind in weeks.
The wind began to blow, and the glow of lightning flashes signaled that the oncoming storm was getting closer. A stand of wild, white oleander next to the road sent flower petals across his windshield where, like misguided snowflakes, they adhered themselves until he flipped the wipers on to knock them off. He hoped the weather was not portentous of his meeting with Charles Clay.
His depression had not dissipated. He was no more confounded by the natural complexity of the storm he saw forming than he was by the intricacies of his own situation. Despite his ability to skate and manipulate, he could not come up with any foolproof way to avoid the consequences he knew lay ahead.
There was the slim possibility of sacrificing the district financial officer and the superintendent of buildings and construction, and he had thought about it. The financial records of building projects and the bidding processes were so full of holes and dark corners that they were always subject to question. In school districts across the country, the controllers of those two areas were often made the sacrificial lambs. With a little skewing here and there and a few unanswerable questions, he could lay it right in their laps. They were both hired for their ignorance and arrogance, which made them vulnerable. Get the fingers pointing in the opposite direction, and he was home free. He couldn’t understand what misguided sense of morality discouraged him from doing that, but, for whatever reason, he placed it in a position of last resort.
Ten miles out of Charleston, huge drops of rain began pelting the windshield of his car. Even with the wipers going full speed, the landscape melted before him. Huge puddles formed in low spots on the highway, and the car hit walls of water causing it to hydroplane to the edge of control. Hamilton’s mind was not only on the troubles he was facing, but also surviving the drive into town.
He found a parking lot on Meeting Street, a short distance from Millon’s. Even though he carried an umbrella, by the time he entered the foyer of the restaurant, the blowing rain had dampened his light tan suit.
“Mr. Hamilton,” the maitre d’ said as if he knew him. “Mr. Clay is already seated. If you will follow me, please.”
Millon’s was, by far, the most elegant and formal dining place in the city. Tables were covered with white Damask cloths and set with a full set of silverware—some pieces with very obscure uses that were never seen elsewhere—three crystal wine glasses to accommodate the various wines served with each course, and the finest china. Waiters wore tuxedos and carried white serviettes over their forearm. The menu was prix fiche and extremely expensive. On most occasions Hamilton found dinner at Millon’s a grand experience. This evening, however, was tempered by what was going on inside him.
“Cedrick,” Charley Clay said as he rose from his chair while his dining partner was seated.
“Charles,” Hamilton nodded.
“You don’t look very happy for a man who’s about to partake of Charleston’s finest.
And free at that,” the lawywer said with slight admonishment. “What would you like to drink?”
“A Rob Roy on the rocks.” The waiter, who, after seating his guest, had been standing a private distance away, nodded and turned to place his order.
“Thank you, George,” Clay said to the man’s back. He noticed Hamilton examining his suit jacket. “It’ll dry, Cedrick; don’t worry about it. You look miserable. Now what weight of the world are you carryin’ on your shoulders tonight?”
“Just a lot of district business on my mind.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me about it, an’ maybe I can help. Don’t guess there’s any secrets between us now, are there?” There was a question in his grin.
“No, I guess not.” Hamilton paused, trying to put together what, if anything, he wanted to tell his friend. The waiter brought his drink and he took a sip, which gave him a little time to consider.
“Must be pretty heavy, if it’s takin’ you all that time to make up your mind whether or not to tell me about it.”
“I’m in trouble, Charles, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Now that is a first.” Clay gave a quiet chuckle. “I’ve never seen you stumped for a solution to any problem, and even if you didn’t have one, you’ve always convinced everyone you did. What could be so bad this time? Tell me about it. Maybe we can solve this little dilemma of yours.” Clay’s eyes were piercing as he looked straight-on at Cedrick Hamilton.
“The audit,” Hamilton said.
“Oh, yes. I heard about that. Stirrin’ up quite a fuss, idn’t it?”
Hamilton sighed. “More than you know, Charles. More than you know.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s going to put me out in the cold, probably in jail.” He took another sip of his drink. “There’s a lot of money unaccounted for, kickbacks that will become apparent, false vouchers; you name it. It sounds terrible, but, in reality, it’s not that unusual. Done in almost every school district in the country if the truth were known. It’s just that most of them never have to face an audit they can’t control.
“School boards are the closest thing to the old Russian Politburo we have in this country, and I was naive enough to think mine would never knuckle under to pressure. But they’re anxious and impatient about this bond issue. It’s as if it doesn’t pass the first time around, they won’t get another shot at it. Hell, we passed the last one for a hundred and forty million without even trying. But we didn’t have the senior citizen population then that we have now.”
“And they’re worried about taxes. Stands to reason.”
“They’ve been assured that taxes won’t go up, but they want the audit to prove it, and they want an accounting of all the moneys from the last bond issue to make sure it wasn’t misspent.” He took another sip of his drink.
“Which, of course, taxes will and the money was.” Hamilton, stared into his drink. “How much we talkin’ about, Cedrick? In question, I mean.”
“Six hundred thousand, maybe a million. Who knows? ”
“I hope you’re not sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’,” Clay said.
“I’m guilty as hell, Charles. There will be questions about employee’s salaries, skimming, falsifying records. I’m scared. I don’t even know how it got started. It was easy and seemed victimless. If I didn’t take it, it would be wasted somewhere else.”
“Seems like you got yourself in a tough situation, Cedrick, though I can’t, for the life of me, understand why. You sure as hell don’t need the money. Whatever. I’m sure it’s solvable. Who’s doin’ the audit?”
“The board hasn’t made a choice yet.”
“The board gets to choose? That’s the damnedest thing I ever heard of.” Clay sounded flabbergasted. “That’s a new one. A demand audit and the auditee gets to choose the auditor. What’s the problem?”
“Well, choose from the three firms they were given by the citizen’s committee.”
“Oh, don’t you just love bureaucracy. Makes it possible for us lawyers to do all the stuff we do.”
“You all were the ones who created it.”
“That’s right. Smart of us, wudn’t it?” Clay said with a Cheshire grin. “Do you know who the firms are?”
“Taylor and Bradshaw from Greenville; Shelton, Kline and Davis from Charleston, and Roger Herrington and Associates from Columbia. Why?”
“How soon are we talkin’ before the board makes a choice?”
“A couple of weeks or longer.”
“Well, I think that gives us enough time.”
“For what?” Hamilton asked, suddenly picking up.
“To do a little finagling.” He thought for a moment. “We want Herrington.”
“Can you reveal your reasoning to me about that?” Hamilton asked with the merest edge of sarcasm.
“Trust me. They’re political. Roger Herrington wants to be in the Governor’s cabinet and eventually governor himself. Tell you anything? Give me till Saturday, and I’ll have a better handle on it. Now if that’s your only problem, I think we can take care of it.”
“But it’s the board that has to choose Herrington.”
“That’s the easy part.”
“How?”
“Cash and influence, Cedrick. Cash and influence. It’s the magic formula.” He smiled.
“Here comes our dinner. Let’s forget all this stuff and enjoy.”
There was little conversation during dinner; Clay didn’t like anything to disturb the event. It was only when coffee was served that the two men turned back to the business of the evening.
“That was good, wudn’t it?” Clay asked.
“The best, as always,” Hamilton said.
“Okay, Cedrick, I’ve listened to your problem, and I think—actually, I’m sure—I can help, but I also need some help from you on the next company venture.” Clay made it an offer he couldn’t refuse.
“I’ve still got my northeast connections in place.”
“On this one, the requirements are a little bit different, and you’re the only man I can think of who can handle it. We’ve not done anything as big as what we have planned; consequently, the site’s gonna have to be extremely secure, accessible by road for a coupla eighteen wheelers, relatively deep water and more space than usual.”
“What are we talking about, Charles?” He found himself getting nervous as he looked at Clay’s face.
“Eighteen tons of product and enough money for you to tell the whole State of South Carolina to go hang, not to mention auditors and school boards. Hell, you can go live in Paris if you want to.” Cedrick Hamilton’s mouth went dry. His accountant’s mind was already doing the calculations and the figures were staggering. “I need you to secure the off-load site; you’re the perfect person for the job.”
“But I have no idea where—”
“I do. Turner Lockett’s been doin’ some research. Some reconnaissance missions, you might call ‘em.” He laughed. “He’s come up with two good possibilities. One I don’t think much of, in fact, I’m a little scared of it; the other I believe you could help us with.”
“I’m listening.”
“The one I don’t think we should pursue, even though it does fit the criteria, is Sam Larkin’s place out on Fiddler’s End. Now I don’t know the man, though I suppose I might have seen him around town at some point, but all I know of him is that he teaches school and has a pretty fancy house that nobody knows how he paid for. Hey, maybe he’s in the same business we are. That’d be a hoot, wouldn’t it? But you pro’bly know more about him than I do.” Clay paused, waiting for a reaction.
“Not that much more. Does a decent job, I guess. Haven’t had any complaints. Kind of a loner from what I’ve heard. I’ve hardly seen the man; I would stay away from him. Who’s the other?”
“Lives in the same area, coupla miles up the creek. Skeeter Crewes. You know Skeeter, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know Skeeter. We go back a ways. He’s a good man, but I’m not sure he’d be approachable either. Got a wife and one or two kids. I haven’t seen him in quite awhile.”
“Two. Works for Harry Tom Cooper when there’s work,” Clay said, “but I think he’s havin’ a pretty rough time. Bill checked on his bank account, and it varies between empty and nothin’.”
“Well, that’s motivation. What kind of a deal are we talking about?”
“I just want him and his family to be gone for the night. They must have a relative somewhere they could go visit. I don’t want ‘em to go to a motel in town or anything; that would be a little obvious. Hell, we could even send ‘em to Myrtle Beach for a coupla days if they want. Take a little vacation.”
“And what does Skeeter get for his trouble?”
“Well, dudn’t sound like much trouble to me, just take a trip and keep his mouth shut. Not even any risk to amount to anything. I was thinkin’ maybe twenty-five thousand.”
“Just to not be at home for a night?”
“That’s all. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. If he’s as hard up as you say he is, I would guess he’d consider it.”
“You feel okay about prospecting him?”
“Skeeter and I have been pretty close over the years. I think I can trust him. He’s a pretty quiet guy; I don’t think he’d turn on me even if he didn’t want to do it.”
“We need him, Cedrick. We’re talkin’ millions here. Maybe the last hurrah, who knows?”
“Yes, who really does know.” It was a statement. “About any damned thing.”
Hamilton’s mind had wandered back to his own troubles. He wondered if this would just add pressure and compound them.
“Cedrick, you take care of Skeeter Crewes for me—for us—and I’ll take care of your audit for you. Deal?” Clay smiled.
“I don’t know where your confidence comes from, Charles, but I really don’t have much choice, do I?”
“None that I can see. I’m gonna have Turner out there this week keepin’ an eye on both of them. Even if we don’t approach Larkin, I need to know what his schedule is and what he’s doing.”
“I’ll see Skeeter this week.” Hamilton rose from his chair. His back was stiff from sitting. “Thanks for dinner. And let’s keep our fingers crossed for each other on this one. Okay?” Clay held up both hands with the first two fingers on each hand crossed.
“My pleasure, Cedrick. Drive carefully.”
It had been a long day, but now all the work days felt that way; the job and its people were getting oppressive. He felt independence slipping away. When Sam entered his house with only a cold beer and the deck lounger on his mind, he was stopped by the blinking answering machine. He went to the phone and pushed the rewind/play button.
“Hi, Sam. It’s Karen. Remember? Haven’t heard from you, and since you fixed such a great dinner for me last week, I thought I would offer to return the favor and invite you to dinner, if you’re not busy. I know I should have called earlier, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’ll be home today, so give me a call.” The call clicked off.
With what Skeeter said and what had gone through his own mind, the invitation was unnerving. The idea of her making moves on him didn’t ring true. He didn’t know Karen Chaney very well, but she appeared to be the type of person who would let her intentions be known, if that was her purpose. He took off his shirt, got a beer from the fridge, opened it and went out on the deck to decide what to do.
Under most circumstances, he would trust his gut instinct: call or don’t call, go or don’t go, but this one required more consideration. Depending on her motives, if he didn’t go, it would likely end a purely social relationship that he wasn’t sure he wanted to end. If he did go and she had other objectives—though he couldn’t imagine her purpose—he might expose himself to more questions and a deeper probe into his personal life, which he definitely didn’t want. From another angle, he didn’t want to appear paranoid or ungrateful, regardless of her reasons for inviting him. And, most important, if he refused the invitation, he might never find out her purpose. He dialed her number.
She picked up the telephone on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“That anxious, huh?” he said.
“Just happened to be sitting at my table doing some paperwork. Hi, Sam.” Her voice was soft and glad.
“Hi to you.”
“My invitation forward enough?” she asked.
“That thought never entered my mind.”
“Can you come?”
“When?” he asked.
“Tomorrow night?”
“What are you having?”
“Liver and eggplant,” she answered.
“Damn! My favorites. How did you know that?”
“If they’re your favorites, you’re uninvited.” He didn’t say anything. “I was only kidding. About what I was having. You said you’d lived in New Orleans, and I have a restaurant cook book from New Orleans, so I thought I would make barbecued shrimp from a restaurant named Pascal’s Manale. Ever heard of it?”
“One of my favorite places and barbecued shrimp is what made them famous.”
“Maybe I’d better not try it. Not if you already know how it’s supposed to taste.”
“It couldn’t be bad if you follow the directions,” he said.
“I never follow directions. Want to give it a try?”
“I’d love to. What time and how do I find your place?”
“Six-thirty and it’s number seven, on the end, toward the marina.”
“Got it. I’ll be there. Anything I can bring?” he asked.
“ No. I never invite people to dinner and then ask them to bring what I’m going to serve them.” She paused. “Sam? Do you really eat liver?” she asked with distaste.
“Not if I can help it. See you at six-thirty.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Me, too. Thank you, Karen.”