The guard by the door wasn’t paying us much attention, but I lowered my voice and leaned forward. ‘I’ve got another message—from the Tanner brothers.’
He’d been affecting a lazy, relaxed demeanour but that galvanised him. He straightened up and drew in a deep breath.
‘Those cunts. What’re you doing talking to them?’
‘I didn’t want to. They grabbed me in the car park here.’
He sneered. ‘Grabbed you? Thought you were supposed to be tough.’
‘Three men, confined space. Bad odds, and then they applied some pressure I’m not in a position to resist. Not just yet. D’you want to hear what they had to say?’
The good humour had vanished. ‘Yeah.’
I’d made my decision: I was going with the scenario Templeton had sketched. ‘I don’t understand it,’ I said, ‘but they say they want to let bygones be bygones and that they’ll protect you when you go for the money.’
His eyes got a faraway look as if he was envisaging scenes and conversations in the distant or not so distant future. He glanced at the guard, who gave him a hostile stare in return.
‘That’s something to chew on,’ he said with the faraway look back in place.
I waved my hand in front of him to get his attention. ‘Back to the business in hand, my client’s matter. He’s come some of the way towards you.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
Clearly the Tanners’ message had claimed top place on his agenda. If he had hopes of the Tanners they’d be balanced by misgivings, but a couple of million dollars would draw the focus of most people.
The guard looked up at the clock. Not long to go.
‘The Tanners’d rob their grandmothers,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t mind talking to them. You get a day release organised and we could do that.’
‘It’d be closely supervised.’
‘There’s ways. I have to thank you, Hardy, although I’m sure you’re a bastard at heart. You’ve given me something to think about apart from counting the fucking days and weeks and months.’
‘So glad,’ I said. ‘Now how about my business?’
‘Yeah, there was a family Bible and all sorts of letters and shit. Talk to Kristie, she knows more about it than me.’
I’d learned something of this from Kristine but it wasn’t the time to say so. ‘How come?’
‘We’re related, third cousins twice removed or some such shit. My grandma and hers were sisters, I think, or cousins. Anyway, she’s the one who knows about the family history.’
He realised what he’d said and covered his face with his hands. ‘Jesus, I’ve blown it. Your bloke won’t give a fuck about me.’
I was thinking fast. The business with the Tanners and the buried money was no affair of mine, but I had a score to settle with them over the threat. And I felt some guilt about Pete McKnight’s death and regret about Marisha, and it was all connected. I wouldn’t be able to let it all drop.
‘No,’ I said. ‘A deal’s a deal. I’ll try to make sure he sticks to it.’
~ * ~
When I got back to the motel I looked through the documents Wakefield had given me and confirmed the Tanner-Twizell family connection Kristine and Johnnie Twizell had referred to: William Twizell’s de facto wife and the mother of his son. It was a long time back, but in those days people tended to remain in the one locality and marriages between cousins and less closely related people were common down through the generations.
It was going to take time to ease the restrictions on Twizell, if it could be done at all, and I had nothing better to do than to pursue the written account that was supposed to put flesh on the bones of the second survivor of the Dunbar story. I had Kristine’s mobile number and I rang it.
‘Kristine, this is Hardy.’
‘Kristie, for God’s sake.’
‘Kristie, I need a number for Hector to tell him I’ve delivered the message.’
‘Why would I help you do that?’
‘Come on, it’s probably the best way.’
‘You fucking men. You always know what’s best, don’t you?’
‘Not always, no.’
‘Mr Cool.’
She gave me the number. ‘Is that it?’
‘No, I need to talk to you about another matter entirely. Can we meet somewhere?’
‘Oh, yeah, sure, I’ve got nothing better to do than run around after you and get Hector and Joseph all suspicious.’