The Death Box(101)
A knock at the door. Roy jumped up to answer it, good, since my legs felt dead.
There was a motel down the road I could move to this evening. Or rent storage space and bunk with Gershwin for a few days. Or I could ask Dubois to store my stuff in his garage and …
“Our new arrival,” Roy said, stepping back out to the deck. “To those who don’t know him I’ll introduce Doctor August Charpentier. Have a seat with the group, Doctor.”
My heart stopped. It was my brother, Jeremy, in his false identity. He sat and crossed his long legs, a picture of elegance in his sky-blue seersucker suit, open white shirt and blue-banded straw Panama. I concentrated on not keeling over as the head of FCLE’s investigative division handed coffee to my fugitive brother.
“Sorry to be tardy,” Jeremy said in a Frenchified accent. “I’ve been on the phone with my long-winded accountants. How are the proceedings going?”
“We’re making the transfer, sir,” Winquist said. “A wonderful site for multiple units, I’d say.”
Jeremy nodded. “Excellent, though my accountants just advised me to delay actual site development until several new tax issues are resolved. I’ll simply hold the property for a bit.”
“Accountants know best,” Bashore said.
“It does, however, leave me with a bit of a problem.”
“Which is, Doctor Charpentier?”
Jeremy cleared his throat as if preparing to ask a great favor, and turned to me. “I guess my question is, Mr Ryder, if you haven’t already made other plans … could you possibly remain here as a tenant? Keep the place safe and all?”
I tried to speak, couldn’t. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I, uh, guess that might work, Doctor,” I managed. “For a bit, at least.”
Jeremy clapped his hands. “Splendid. My cab awaits so I’ll leave you folks to work out the details. Rent of say, four hundred dollars a month?”
Winquist raised an eyebrow. “That seems exceedingly low, sir.”
“Then I’ll consider it an investment in law enforcement, an occupation that has always fascinated me.”
“Are you heading back to Kentucky, Doctor?” Bashore asked as Jeremy turned for the deck door.
“No, I’m staying a few days to check out local properties.”
I stood and walked him through the house as the lawyers scratched on papers. Roy followed to refill his coffee cup, too close for Jeremy and I to drop our façades.
“Local properties, sir?” I said, barely able to squeak out words.
Jeremy nodded as we reached the threshold, his hand on the knob. “I’m becoming attracted to sunnier climes, Mr Ryder. New worlds to conquer and all that.”
“Uh, where are you looking, sir?”
“I’m considering Key West. It has such a romantic history. I hear a lot of pasts have been buried out there.”
My mouth dropped open, and my brother’s grin went as wide as the horizon. He whispered, “See you soon, neighbor.”
And walked into the sunlight.