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The butler brought the drinks from the poolside bar and served them to Clete and Bobby Earl. Earl took a deep drink from his without his eyes ever leaving my face. When he lowered his glass his mouth looked cold and red, like a girl’s.
“When was the last time you talked to him?” I asked.
“It was awhile back. I don’t remember.”
I nodded and smiled again while I wrote in my notebook. Clete put a handful of popcorn crawfish in his mouth, drank out of his glass of 7-Up and cracked the ice between his molars.
“This is a great place,” he said. “You own it?”
“I lease it.”
“I hear you’re going to run for the U.S. Senate,” Clete said.
“Perhaps.”
“Say, you ever see Jewel Fluck around?” Clete said.
“Who?”
“He’s a little sawed-off guy. Hangs around with Eddy. He’s in the AB.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“The Aryan Brotherhood,” Clete said. “They’re jailhouse Nazis.”
“Well . . .” Bobby Earl began.
“You really don’t know Fluck, huh?” Clete said.
“No.”
“Streak would really like to talk with him and Eddy. They almost blew out his light. You get Streak mad and he’ll throw elephant shit through your window fan.”
Clete held up his glass for the butler to fill it again.
“I think we don’t need to talk anymore,” Bobby Earl said. “I’m not sure why you’re here anyway. I have the feeling you’d like to provoke something.”
“Here’s my business card, Mr. Earl,” I said. “But I’ll be back in touch one way or another. How’s Eddy’s face?”
“What?”
“He had a lot of splinters in it the last time I saw him. Do you know why he’d want to tear up your brother-in-law’s house?”
“Now, you listen—”
“He and two others executed a policeman. They blew his brains all over a basement floor at pointblank range,” I said. “You’d better think up some better bullshit the next time cops come out to your house.”
The blood had drained out of his cheeks. Then a strange transformation took place in his face. The skin grew taut against the bone, and there was a flat, green-yellow venomous glaze in his eyes, the kind you see only in people who have successfully worked for years to hide the propensity for cruelty that lives inside them.
“You got in here when you shouldn’t have. Now you’re on your way out,” he said.
“That sounds serious. No J.D. refills?” Clete said.
The butler rested his hand on the back of Clete’s chair. Through the banana trees I saw the gateman walking across the lawn toward us. I stood up to go. Clete lit a cigarette and flipped the match into the swimming pool. It was deep dusk now, and the trees were swimming with fireflies.
“Don’t crowd the plate,” he said, his eyes looking straight ahead.
The butler looked at Bobby Earl, who nodded his head negatively and rose from his chair.
