The hills began between Jackson and Memphis, and the coast seemed time zones away. He had often wondered at how a state so small could be so diverse: the Delta1 region along the river with the wealth of its cotton and rice farms and the poverty that still astonished outsiders; the coast with its blend of immigrants and laid-back, New Orleans casualness; and the hills where most counties were still dry and most folks still went to church on Sundays. A person from the hills would never understand the coast and never be accepted in the Delta. Ray was just happy he lived in Virginia.
Patton French was a dream, he kept telling himself. A cartoonish character from another world. A pompous2 jerk being eaten alive by his own ego3. A liar4, a briber5, a shameless crook6.
Then he would glance over at the passenger's seat and see the sinister7 face of Gordie Priest. One glance and there was no doubt this brute8 and his brothers would do anything for the money Ray was still hauling around the country.
An hour from Clanton, and again within range of a tower, his cell phone rang. It was Fog Newton and he was quite agitated9. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.
"You wouldn't believe me."
"I've been calling all morning."
"What is it, Fog?"
"We've had a little excitement around here. Last night, after general aviation closed, somebody sneaked10 onto the ramp11 and put an incendiary device on the left wing of the Bonanza12. Boom. A janitor13 in the main terminal just happened to see the blaze, and they got the fire truck out pretty fast."
Ray had pulled onto the shoulder of Interstate 55 and stopped. He grunted14 something into the phone and Fog kept going. "Severe damage though. No doubt it was an act of arson15. You there?"
"Just listening," Ray said. "How much damage?"
"Left wing, the engine, and most of the fuselage, probably a total loss for insurance purposes. The arson investigator16 is already here. Insurance guy's here too. If the tanks had been full it would've been a bomb."
"The other owners know about it?"
"Yes, everyone's been out. Of course they're first on the suspect list. Lucky you were out of town. When are you coming back?"
"Soon."
He made it to an exit and pulled into the gravel17 lot of a truck stop, where he sat in the heat for a long time and occasionally glanced down at Gordie. The Priest gang moved fast - Biloxi yesterday morning, Charlottesville last night. Where are they now?
Inside, he drank coffee and listened to the chatter18 of the truckers. To change the subject, he called Alcorn Village to check on For-rest. He was in his room, sleeping the sleep of the righteous, as he described it. It was always amazing, he said, how much he slept in rehab. He'd complained about the food, and things had improved slightly. Either that or he had developed a taste for pink Jell-O. He asked how long he could stay, like a kid at Disney World. Ray said he wasn't sure. The money that had once seemed endless was now very much in jeopardy19.
"Don't let me out, Bro," he pleaded. "I want to stay in rehab for the remainder of my life."
The Atkins boys had finished the roof at Maple20 Run without incident. The place was deserted21 when Ray arrived. He called Harry22 Rex and checked in. "Let's drink some beer on the porch tonight," Ray suggested.
Harry Rex had never said no to such an invitation.
THERE WAS a level spot of thick grass just beyond the front sidewalk, directly in front of the house, and after careful deliberation Ray decided23 it was the place for a washing. He parked the little Audi there, facing the street, its rear and its trunk just a step from the porch. He found an old tin bucket in the basement and a leaky water hose in the back shed. Shirtless and shoeless, he sloshed around for two hours in the hot afternoon sun, scrubbing the roadster. Then he waxed and polished it for an hour. At 5 P.M., he opened a cold bottle of beer and sat on the steps, admiring his work.
He called the private cell phone number given to him by Pat-ton French, but of course the great man was too busy. Ray wanted to thank him for his hospitality, but what he really wanted was to see if they had made any progress down there icing the Priest gang. He would never ask that question directly, but a blowhard24 like French would happily deliver the news if he had it.
French had probably forgotten about him. He didn't really care if the Priest boys nailed Ray or the next guy. He needed to make a half a billion or so in mass tort schemes, and that took all his energies. Indict25 a guy like French, for payoffs or contract killings26, and he'd hire fifty lawyers and buy every clerk, judge, prosecutor27, and juror.
He called Corey Crawford and got the news that the landlord had once again repaired the doors. The police had promised to keep an eye on the place for the next few days, until he returned.
The van pulled into the driveway shortly after 6 P.M. A smiling face jumped out with a thin overnight envelope, which Ray stared at long after it had been delivered. The airbill was a preprinted form from the University of Virginia School of Law, hand-addressed to Mr. Ray Atlee, Maple Run, 816 Fourth Street, Clariton, MS, dated June 2, the day before. Everything about it was suspicious.
No one at the law school had been given the address in Clan-ton. Nothing from there would be so urgent as to require an overnight delivery. And he could think of no reason whatsoever29 that the school would be sending him anything. He opened another beer and returned to the front steps, where he grabbed the damned thing and ripped it open.
Plain white legal-size envelope, with the word "Ray" hand-scrawled on the outside. And on the inside, another of the now familiar color photos of Chaney's Self-Storage, this time the front of unit 18R. At the bottom, in a wacky font of mismatched letters, was the message: "You don't need an airplane. Stop spending the money."
These guys were very, very good. It was tough enough to track down the three units at Chaney's and take pictures of them. It was gutsy and also stupid to burn up the Bonanza. Oddly, though, what was most impressive at the moment was their ability to swipe an airbill from the business office at the law school.
After a prolonged moment of shock, he realized something that should have been immediately obvious. Since they'd found 18R, then they knew the money wasn't there. It wasn't at Chaney's, nor at his apartment. They'd followed him from Virginia to Clan-ton, and if he'd stopped somewhere along the way to hide the money, they would know it. They'd probably rummaged30 through Maple Run again, while he was on the coast.
Their net was tightening31 by the hour. All clues were being linked, all dots connected. The money had to be with him, and Ray had no place to run.
He had a very comfortable salary as a professor of law, with benefits. His lifestyle was not expensive, and he decided right there on the porch, still shirtless and shoeless, sipping32 a beer in the early evening humidity of a long hot June day, that he preferred to continue that lifestyle. Leave the violence for the likes of Gordie Priest and hit men hired by Patton French. Ray was out of his element.
The cash was dirty anyway.
"WHY'D YOU park in the front yard?" Harry Rex grumbled33 as he lumbered34 up the steps.
"I washed it and left it there," Ray said. He had showered and was wearing shorts and a tee shirt.
"You just can't get the redneck outta some people. Gimme a beer."
Harry Rex had been brawling35 in court all day, a nasty divorce where the weighty issues were which spouse36 had smoked the most dope ten years ago and which one had slept with the most people. The custody37 of four children was at stake, and neither parent was fit
"I'm too old for this," he said, very tired. By the second beer he was nodding off.
Harry Rex controlled the divorce docket in Ford28 County and had for twenty-five years. Feuding38 couples often raced to hire him first. One farmer over at Karraway kept him on retainer so he would be available for the next split. He was very bright, but could also be vile39 and vicious. This had wide appeal in the heat of divorce wars.
But the work was taking its toll40. Like all small-town lawyers, Harry Rex longed for the big kill. The big damage suit with a forty percent contingency41 fee, something to retire on.
The night before, Ray had been sipping expensive wines on a twenty-million-dollar yacht built by a Saudi prince and owned by a member of the Mississippi bar who was plotting billion-dollar schemes against multinationals42. Now he was sipping Bud in a rusted43 swing with a member of the Mississippi bar who'd spent the day bickering44 over custody and alimony.
"The Realtor showed the house this morning," Harry Rex said. "He called me during lunch, woke me up."
"Who's the prospect45?"
"Remember those Kapshaw boys up near Rail Springs?"
"No."
"Good boys. They started buildin' chairs in an old barn ten years ago, maybe twelve. One thang led to another, and they sold out to some big furniture outfit46 up in the Carolinas. Each of 'em walked away with a million bucks47. Junkie and his wife are lookin' for houses."
"Junkie Kapshaw?"
"Yeah, but he's tight as Dick's hatband and he ain't payin' four hundred thousand for this place."
"I don't blame him."
"His wife's crazy as hell and thinks she wants an old house. The Realtor is pretty sure they'll make an offer, but it'll be low, probably about a hundred seventy-five thousand." Harry Rex was yawning.
They talked about Forrest for a spell, then things were silent. "Guess I'd better go," he said. After three beers, Harry Rex began his exit.
"When are you going back to Virginia?" he asked, struggling to his feet and stretching his back.
"Maybe tomorrow."
"Gimme a call," he said, yawning again, and walked down the steps.
Ray watched the lights of his car disappear down the street, and he was suddenly and completely alone again. The first noise was a rustling48 in the shrubbery near the property line, probably an old dog or cat on the prowl, but regardless of how harmless it was it spooked Ray and he ran inside.
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delta
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| n.（流的）角洲 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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briber
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| n.行贿者 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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bonanza
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| n.富矿带，幸运，带来好运的事 | |
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janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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jeopardy
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| n.危险；危难 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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blowhard
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| n.自吹自擂者 | |
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indict
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| v.起诉，控告，指控 | |
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killings
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| 谋杀( killing的名词复数 )； 突然发大财，暴发 | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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feuding
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| vi.长期不和（feud的现在分词形式） | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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multinationals
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| 跨国公司( multinational的名词复数 ) | |
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rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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