Clay nodded. “And they’ll call the cops,” Clay said. “Even before we get to the little favor I did your boss, is that whole scenario the sort of thing she wants to associate herself with?”
He waited. Errand Boy glared at him for a moment, then grimaced and nodded. “OK,” he said through tight lips. “I get it.”
Clay let go.
Errand Boy scooted away down the bench. As if he thought Clay wouldn’t get up to kick his ass. It was fine, though; his cologne was a bit sickly to start with.
“My employer,” Errand Boy said as he stared up at the crucifix with fixed attention, “wants to know if the robbery two nights ago had anything to do with you.”
“There were a few,” Clay said. “But the one related to our business with your boss? Yeah, that was us.”
“This morning,” Errand Boy said, “Mr. Collymore’s body was found on the mountain. Apparently the police think he’s been there since the night of the party.”
“Well, it would have been weird if he’d gotten himself out there more recently.”
“What did you think you were doing?” Errand Boy asked. “The situation was supposed to be handled discreetly. That’s what she wanted.”
“We all want things,” Clay said. “Doesn’t mean we get them.”
“My employer is very used to getting what she wants.”
Clay shifted. Old scars and wooden seats were not a match made in heaven. “We did the best we could with what we were given,” he said, his voice even and level. A muscle at the corner of the man’s eye twitched. He reached up and squashed it under his finger, then inched closer so he could hear Clay. “And with what Parker told us she wanted. If she’s not happy with that, there’s fuck all we can do about it now.”
Errand Boy twisted his fingers together, hard enough that it looked like it hurt his hands.
“We want reassurances,” he said.
“Sure,” Clay said. “Everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
He pushed himself to his feet. Errand Boy grabbed his sleeve and then thought better of it. He let go and stood up too, body angled as if they were just having a conversation.
“Your associate needs to tell my employer who was involved,” he said. “The police reports say that there were three men that night, and we want to know who they are and who they work for.”
“Anything else?” Clay asked.
It was meant to be sarcastic, but apparently Errand Boy thought it was a chance to tag one more thing onto the list.
“An accounting of what happened to Ms. Ledger’s belongings,” Errand Boy said. “You weren’t hired to line your pockets by stealing those things from the house, and our mutual benefactor doesn’t want to get caught because whatever inbred you hired to pull this off gets arrested selling a nice necklace in a shitty part of town. The expectation is that you make this right.”
“Or?” Clay asked, intrigued about the answer.
Errand Boy faltered. “Or… or she’ll have to involve other people. That’s not what she wants to do. But she will.”
“I’ll pass that on,” Clay said. “And you pass this on too. We did exactly what we were asked to do, and if your boss has buyer’s remorse now, that’s her problem. If she wants to keep her hands clean, tell her to keep them out of our business.”
Errand Boy’s eye twitched again. He reached up to rub at it and then dropped his hand self-consciously when he realized Clay had noticed.
“You think she wants them there?” he asked. “All my employer has ever done is try and protect the people she represents, the ideals that she stood up for. Now one stupid, horrible mistake could ruin all that? No. That’s not fair. And it’s not fair that Ms. Ledger’s family lose more than they already have. We want everything that was taken back, and before this goes any further, we need to know who else knows about this.”
Clay shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll pass it on.” He nodded toward the candles. “And remember to leave a donation for the Church. God only takes cash, not credit.”
He walked out. One of the homeless men—Clay thought it was the one he’d nodded to—had lingered by the door. He had a tattoo on his forearm, just visible under his rolled-back sleeve, and held himself like he’d had a drill instructor spit in his face before.
“Everything OK?” the man asked. He nodded toward Errand Boy and then looked back at Clay. “You in trouble with whoever he works for?”
Clay turned to look at Errand Boy and then shrugged as he turned back to the stranger.
“If I’m not today, I will be tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, but thanks.”
