Beaming up at everyone, Harry asked, “What happened?”
“You attacked Mr. Cotton,” Phil said.
“Are you okay?” Friday asked.
“And his carpenter,” Carol said. “Mr. Pillette. You attacked him, too.”
Unsteadily, Harry rolled onto one knee, hesitated until the room stopped spinning, took a breath, stood, and looked around. His saliva tasted of copper.
“Where’s my hat?” he asked.
Cotton handed it to Harry, who put it on his head and gingerly pulled it low over his right eye.
His head pulsed, a waxing and waning circle of pain, which Harry also felt in his teeth.
“Take it slow, Harry,” Rossiter said.
“There was … an argument,” Harry said.
“Over paying a bill,” Phil said. “Mr. Cotton told us.”
“For an unfinished bookshelf,” Carol said. “What the hell were you doing here?”
“And what’s it to you?” Phil said.
“No harm done,” Cotton said.
“Wait a minute,” Harry said. “Wait a minute.… What about Marian Turner?”
“Marian Turner?” Rossiter asked. “That’s the one who…” Turning to Cotton, he asked, “You know her?”
“New client,” Cotton said. “Moved here a few months ago. Sad story. Father dead. Mother scrimped to put her through college. Didn’t live to see her graduate. Emphysema. Left Marian a little money. Savings, pension, some life insurance … Not enough really to make it worthwhile for me to manage, but she was recommended by an old law school friend.”
“She’s been missing for over a week,” Harry said.
Cotton gazed at Harry, shrugged, picked up a telephone, and punched in a number. Waited.
“Room four seventeen, please,” Cotton said into the telephone. “Yes, I’ll hold.”
“Mr. Cotton,” Friday said, “Harry’s just a little—”
“Vacation,” Cotton said. “In Florida.”
“And she emptied her bank account from down there?” Harry asked.
“Harry,” Rossiter said, “this is the twenty-first century.”
“People don’t have to walk into a bank to transact business,” Phil said.
“Which is why Pillette had her bank statement?” Harry said. To Pillette, Harry said, “That part of the cabinet job you were doing for her?”
“I don’t believe this,” Phil said to Carol.
“Marian,” Cotton said into the telephone. “It’s Matthew. There’s just someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Cotton handed Rossiter the telephone.
“Ms. Turner,” Rossiter said, “this is Officer Brian Rossiter, Springdale PD. We’ve had a missing person’s inquiry.”
He listened to the response. Rossiter glared at Harry.
“No, no,” he said, “I’m sorry to bother you. Enjoy your stay down there. Good-bye.”
Rossiter hung up the telephone.
“What the hell made you think she was missing?” Rossiter asked Harry.
“Mr. Cotton,” Carol said, “you know Harry is…”
“… who he’s always been,” Cotton said. “Still trying to figure it out, huh, Harry?”
“Figure what out?” Pillette asked.
“The mystery,” Cotton said.
“What mystery?” Pillette asked.
“The mystery,” Cotton said.
“Life’s a maze,” Harry said. “It’s easy to get lost.”
Cotton went around behind his desk.
“Now,” he said, “if you’ll excuse me…”
“You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?” Rossiter asked.
Cotton shook his head no.
“You should get your brother-in-law to a doctor,” he said to Phil.
“Bender’s the shrink we’ve been talking to,” Phil told Rossiter.
“About commitment,” Carol added.
“I meant for that bump on his head,” Cotton said.
“You mokus son of a bitch,” Rossiter said to Harry, “why’d you have to do this?”
Rossiter took Harry by the arm and led him out.
* * *
Carol and Phil followed Harry, Friday, and Rossiter to the elevators.
“Okay,” Rossiter said, “case closed?”
“The phone call?” Harry said. “It makes me more suspicious.”
“What?” Friday asked.
“Cotton was a little too eager to prove Marian was all right,” Harry said.
“When’s the last time you talked to a shrink?” Rossiter asked Harry.
“You’re in for it now,” Phil said.
Harry winked at his brother-in-law and said, “I’ve already been hit by the lightning, Junebug. The rest is just waiting on the thunder.”