Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [66]
I took a deep breath, then a drink of my beer. “Is this what you do? Prod people to see their reactions?”
“It amuses me,” he admitted. “And God knows I need some of that on this snooze cruise.”
I thought about what Yvonne had said about him and decided there was no harm in doing a little prodding of my own. “Why did you come on this tour, anyway?” I asked. “You don’t seem like a tour kind of guy.” I carefully kept my tone neutral.
“What kind of guy do I seem like?” he said in a pseudo sexy voice, leaning toward me. Then, catching my look, he threw up his hands, slopping scotch onto my shoes. “Okay, okay. Don’t slap me.”
He took another sip. The Rolex on his wrist gleamed in the light. “No, this really isn’t my thing. Egypt. Tours. Smelly old ladies. Jeez, what a nightmare.”
“So?”
He narrowed his beady little eyes. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Probably not.”
He grinned appreciatively. “There’s a load of crap. Bet you could keep a secret better than most people. But you’re too smart to make a blind promise. I like that.”
He looked around, as if noticing for the first time the steady stream of passengers lining up at the bar just behind us. He took my arm just behind the elbow, a macho gesture I particularly hate, and led me several paces away. I jerked my arm away, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
“This might surprise you, but I’m divorced,” he said with a little ironic gleam in his eye.
“No!” I replied, suddenly amused. I still distrusted him, of course, but apparently there was quite a bit more to Jerry than I’d originally thought. I hadn’t anticipated the sense of humor for one thing.
“Twice. And willing to go for number three. Just say the word.” He leered at me suggestively.
“My God, you’re an ass!” I blurted out.
He seemed almost pleased. “I know! And I hear that more often than you might think. Anyway, I’ve done something that, in retrospect, perhaps wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, so I decided this trip might help.”
“You’re running from the mob?”
“What? No! I’m a divorce lawyer, for Christ’s sake. I don’t launder money or organize hits or whatever. Jesus!”
I gave an apologetic shrug.
“No, the stupid thing I did was turn in Kathy’s mother for tax evasion,” he said glumly.
“What?”
“Yeah, I know. Not too bright. She’s going to find out it was me, and even if she doesn’t, she’ll know it was me anyway. I’ve got some contacts, and I found out the shit was going to hit the fan this week, so I decided that leaving the country would be a good idea.”
“You don’t think Kathy’s going to be furious when she finds out? You think this trip will make up for it?” I asked.
“Oh, she’ll be pissed all right. I can hear the ranting now. ‘I’ll never forgive you, Daddy. I’m never going to speak to you again, Daddy,’” he squeaked in a surprisingly accurate falsetto, then returned to his normal tone. “I should be so lucky. She’ll be talking again as soon as she needs some money. I’m loaded. And she still has another year of college and then law school to get through. So I have a little leverage,” he added cynically.
“Then why the trip?”
He sighed. “Postponing the inevitable mostly. Plus, it might get me some points with her. It’s something she always wanted to do. See Egypt, I mean. This second-rate excursion was the only one I could find that started at the right time.” He drained the rest of his scotch. “I don’t exactly connect with her in daily life, if you know what I mean. And it does have the advantage of having us out of communication with the rest of the world. Very unlikely that she’ll make the effort it would take to call home.”
“But you were upset when you found out we didn’t have Internet access.” I didn’t tell him how I knew it.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, but that’s because I’m watching my stocks. I’ve got a few tricky investments going. I’ve got a broker who has his instructions, but you don’t get to where I am by trusting people.” He looked across the room to where Lydia and Ben were now swinging potatoes and