Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [11]
“When I am,” I said, “you won’t have to ask.” I wondered if, like me, Williams realized how stupid we were being. Then he threw a punch that stopped an inch from my nose. He smiled when I didn’t flinch. He looked offended, disappointed, as though I had refused a gift. I shook my head and walked past him out the door. I had nothing to prove to him. Williams tensed when I passed by him. He followed me as I went down the stairs, but not too closely. The bad vibes followed us both.
The Colonel was swimming laps in the pool when I walked out onto the patio. Williams trailed me, a few feet back, still not getting too close, as though he sensed my mood. I wasn’t the same man who had arrived here a short while ago. I had switched tracks halfway through the film, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to switch back. Still, despite my frame of mind, something didn’t jibe about the blackmail angle, at least not as it pertained to the video I’d just watched. My gut feeling was that it was just a ploy to distract me. Unfortunately, it had worked.
The Colonel saw me out of the corner of his eye, swam past me to the shallow end, and walked briskly out of the blue chemistry of the water. I waited off to the side for him. Williams handed his boss a black silk robe, which the old man promptly wrapped himself in, tying off the sash at the middle. He said a few words to Williams, who glanced over at me with a grin, then turned and headed off toward the garden. The old man went and sat down again at the table, and I went and sat across from him. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Black had appeared on the table, and he poured a bit of it into a glass and drank it straight down in one shot.
“Williams doesn’t like you very much, does he?” the Colonel asked, looking at his empty glass.
“No,” I said. “I don’t suppose he does.”
“I wonder why.”
“You should ask him,” I said.
“What did you think of the film?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
He thought that over for a moment. “It’s been a very long time since anyone referred to me as stupid.”
“You’ll need to get used to it if you think I believe that your daughter killed someone over a film, even one like that. I suppose you’ve seen it.”
He shook his head. “I’ve seen enough ugliness in my life, Jack. I took her word for what was on it, hers and Williams’s. I told you. She did it to protect me.”
“If she really did shoot Matson,” I said, “then protecting you was probably only part of it. I’m betting she just lost her temper and popped a cap into him. I’m not buying this loving-daughter crap.”
“He was going to send copies of his little masterpiece to everyone I know, people in Washington, people who matter. She didn’t want that to happen, and she took the matter into her own hands before I could stop her.” He looked across at me. “Do you want her to go to prison for killing that scumbag?”
“She might get off. It’s happened before, and you’ve got the money to make it happen.”
“I don’t want to take that chance, and I don’t want the publicity. I just want the whole thing gone as quickly as possible. A hundred thousand dollars, Jack.” His eyes brightened, and his voice rose into a tone of false triumph, all for the benefit of my proletarian perspective. He made that much while brushing his teeth.
“Why not get Williams to do it?” I asked. “He works a lot cheaper than that.”
“There’s a slight chance that if you’re careless, you’ll be caught. If that were to happen to Williams, I’d be drawn into it. I can’t risk that.”
That didn’t sound quite right for some reason; then it hit me. When it came to moving quietly through the night, there wouldn’t be too many people better at it than Williams. Compared to him, I would be an amateur. The Colonel would know that as well as anyone. It was early, but I poured myself an inch of scotch to cover my thinking time. I could almost feel him trying to read my mind.
“Williams could’ve been out there and back a half dozen times by now,” I said after taking a sip of my drink. “And you and I both know it.”
“I need Williams here,” the Colonel said. “With me.”
“Why? Sure,