Page 81 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Lucy wouldn’t have approved,’ said Lomax.

Korn buttoned his suit jacket, leaned against the counter and folded his arms. He said nothing for a time. The coffee maker gurgled and the smell of freshly brewing grounds mingled with the faint odor of rotten flesh that followed Korn around.

‘She wouldn’t have wanted you in her kitchen,’ said Lomax.

‘It’s not her kitchen anymore. It’s yours. I am sorry for your loss. Truly, I am.’

‘What do you want?’ asked Lomax.

‘To pay my respects. Of course.’

‘You’ve paid them.’

Korn looked at the coffee machine as it began to spurt black liquid into the bun flask, before returning to Lomax.

‘Thought we could have a cup of joe. Talk.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘Oh, but there is. There’s so much we need to discuss. The trial begins tomorrow. I realize you have your priorities, but I will need you at court after the funeral. Your testimony is key. That is your duty, and I know you will hold to it. You’re a good man. I always said so.’

Lomax knew Korn was no physical threat. And any fear he had of the man himself had been drowned by his grief and the flood of anger that came with Lucy’s letter. Anger at himself, and the man who stood now in his kitchen, infecting the air around him with his filth. Lomax put the gun down on the marble counter top, beside a padded manila envelope he’d addressed a few hours before, ready to be mailed in the morning. Briefly, Korn’s gaze fell across the envelope, and his eyes flared for a second. Then he turned away. Lomax walked through the kitchen to the lounge, sat down heavily on the couch, put his head in his hands.

He breathed in and out, fiercely, fighting down the emotion coursing through him.

‘I used to be a good man. But that hasn’t been true for a long time,’ said Lomax.

Korn limped in after him, placed a mug of hot coffee on the table in front of Lomax. The armchair in the corner had a small table beside it. Korn sat there, put his coffee down and leaned forward. His knees were spread wide apart, his fingers steepled together, his hands hanging between his legs. It could have looked like a contemplative pose, but with Korn’s body it looked unnatural. Almost insect-like.

‘I know this is hitting you hard. I have done all that I could for both of you. I’m glad you had the funds to do everything that could be done for Lucy,’ he said.

Fundswas a strange way to put it. Korn gave him money. Some from busts, some of his own personal wealth as well. He was rich, alright. In all the time he’d known him, Lomax hadn’t seen Korn wear the same suit twice in a month.

‘I just want you to know that I am here in your time of need, Colt,’ said Korn.

He had never used the sheriff’s first name before. Not that Lomax could remember. He must be concerned if he’s sinking so low.

‘I am not in any need. I’ve lost my wife, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just wish I’d listened to her, talked to her more when she was here. Lucy sure didn’t like you,’ said Lomax.

‘She saw the good work we were doing, together, and perhaps because of that she feared for you. You know, you can’t put away that many murderers without someone trying to take you down. That’s what they do. They try to attack you. You must always be ready to crush your enemies. Before they do it to you. You were protecting Lucy by working with me, and I was protecting you both. Maybe she didn’t understand, not fully.’

‘It wasn’t that,’ said Lomax. ‘She didn’t want me to do anything that could compromise my integrity. I did more than compromise it. I threw it in the trash. That’s what I did. That’s what you made me do.’

‘You’re a free man. Are you telling me that the money I gave you was not accepted in friendship, as partners?’

‘I should never have taken a dime.’

‘Then Lucy would not have had this house. She loved this house, didn’t she?’

‘She did, but she loved me more,’ said Lomax.

‘What are you telling me?’

‘I’m done. That’s what I’m saying.’

Korn leaned back in the chair, put a finger to his lips as if to quieten his reaction. Dull it down. Until it could be tempered into honey.

‘You are too fine an officer for me to lose. What will it take to make you stay? There’s the funeral to pay for, of course. And if this house has too many painful memories, you could move. I can give you a couple of hundred thousand right now. Tonight. And there’s more if you want it?’