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They went back into the bar together.
* * *
As Carl Olsen watched them from high above, he sighed in relief. His entire body hurt and it was hard for him to get down. If they’d stayed a few more minutes, he might have fallen at their feet. It had been hard to escape them. But earlier, it had been easy to disappear in the excited crowd in the bar. No one looked at a skinny old man who was hunched over and scuffling about. Those people were full of the energy of life, something that Carl no longer had.
As he got down, he thought how he wished with all his might that the cop would stop investigating. He wasn’t worried about that reporter. That guy was so desperate that he’d make up an ending for his story, anything that would get him on talk shows. The truth meant nothing to him.
But the cop... He cared about justice, about vindicating his stupidity from the first time around. All that cop cared about was being able to say, “See, I figured it out. I wasn’t a fool after all.” The consequences of revealing the truth meant nothing to him.
But Carl cared very, very much about the consequences. And when it came to true justice, he needed it even more than the cop did. In fact, he was willing to give up his life to get it.
* * *
One of Jack’s friends drove them home, and another one drove the truck. The two men left together as Kate and Jack entered the house through the garage.
“You sure do have a lot of friends,” she said.
“What can I say? I’m a likable guy.”
Kate smiled. But then at the moment she was feeling no pain, so everything made her happy. “I guess you’re staying with me.”
“Yeah.” Jack seemed to be thinking of something else. “You go in and go to bed. I’m going to take this to Dakon.” He held up the napkin.
“Okay, but tell me what he says.” Kate walked through the courtyard to her bedroom, grabbed her nightclothes, and went to the bathroom. The dancing had made her sweaty so she got into the shower and washed her hair. It felt good to be clean, even better to have had an evening away from the image of a woman in a chair with a knife in her chest—not to mention what was on the wall behind her.
When she got out, she dried off and put on one of her old nightgowns, the Sister Wives kind she’d worn while living with her mother. Uncle approved.
She thought Jack would probably be outside the door, his eyes teasing, making sexual innuendos, faking horror at her high-necked, long-sleeved gown. But he wasn’t there.
She got a robe—plain and pale pink—out of her closet and went into her living room. The couch had been pulled out to make a bed and covered with white linens. No doubt done by Aunt Sara.
Jack was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes downcast.
She sat down beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Noth—”
“No! Don’t patronize me. What’s upset you?”
“Dakon wasn’t in my room.”
“Maybe he’s watching TV. Did you check?”
Jack looked at her.
“Yeah, of course you did. Think he went somewhere?”
“I think he’s spending the night with Sara. In her bedroom.”
They looked at each other.
“How about tomorrow we give them some privacy? I have a boat,” he said.
“Do you? I guess you haven’t been out on it since I’ve been here.”
“Nah. Too busy solving murders. I vote that we leave early in the morning and spend the day on the water. It would help clear our minds.”
“You can tell me about that apartment building you’re going to build for me and all your relatives.”
