Mr. Clarinet

"What about the rest? Do you give 'em jobs in your HQ?"

"I don't employ criminals. Bad for business, especially in my line of work."

Max had to laugh. They pulled up outside the gate of his house.

"Find out what happened to my son and I'll bring you and your nemesis together. Just you, him, four walls, no windows. He won't be armed and you won't be searched," Vincent said.

Max thought about it for a while. He'd wanted Boukman dead in America, and when he'd heard they'd let him go he'd still wanted him dead. But now he wasn't sure he could shoot him in cold blood. In fact, he knew he couldn't do it. Boukman might've been a monster, the worst criminal he'd ever encountered, but killing him would make Max no better than him.

"I can't accept that, Vincent. Not that way," Max said and got out of the car.

Paul wound down the window.

"Your country had him and they let him go."

"That was their business. I'm not a cop anymore, Vincent. You seem to forget."

"You too." Vincent smiled and handed Max back his Beretta and holster. "I didn't think you'd accept."

Paul nodded to his driver. The car started up.

"Oh, and, by the way—remember I told you how Gustav Carver bulldozed our family estate? This is what he built over it. Enjoy your stay," Paul said and flashed a smile both sad and defiant, before the tinted window blocked it from view and Max found himself staring at his reflection as the car drove away.

Chapter 47

THERE WERE FIVE telephone messages waiting for him—Joe, Allain, and three from Chantale.

He called Allain first. He stuck to the script he'd formulated in the car on his way back: act as though nothing had happened and everything was the same as before. He didn't say anything about Eloise Krolak for now. It was still early in the investigation and he only had the videotape to go on. Instead, he explained that he'd spent the last few days chasing down a lead that had turned into a dead end. Allain thanked him for his dedication and hard work.

Max phoned Joe. The big man was out on a case. He wouldn't be contactable for the rest of the night.

He had a shower and made a pot of coffee. He was halfway through his first cup when the phone rang. It was Chantale.

She sounded relieved when she heard his voice. They had a long talk. Max told her the same lie he'd told Allain. He didn't know how much he could trust her. How much did she know about Charlie? And what about Allain? Had she guessed he was gay? Women were supposed to be able to spot that kind of thing.

Chantale told him that her mother's condition was deteriorating. She didn't think she'd last until Christmas. Max used that as an excuse to tell her not to come by the next day. He didn't want her around while he tailed Eloise. He said he'd cover for her with Allain. She said OK, but her voice said it wasn't.

After they were done, he went and sat out on the porch. The dark air was alive with the chatter of the nocturnal insects. A light wind was blowing behind the house, caressing the leaves and carrying with it the sweet fragrance of jasmine and burning trash.

He thought things through:

Vincent Paul didn't kidnap Charlie.

So, who did?

Was it one of Paul's enemies or one of Carver's?

If it was the last, did they know the truth about Charlie's parentage?

What about Beeson and Medd?

They must have come a lot closer than he had and they'd paid for it.

The thought of Beeson getting to something before him stirred up the dormant vestiges of his competitive pride. He got close to angry, imagining the sweaty little ferret almost cracking the case when he couldn't seem to get to first base.

Then he remembered what had happened to his old rival and he let the thought go.

He needed to talk to Beeson again, find out what he knew. He'd ask Joe to bring him in.

Until then, all he had to go on was Eloise Krolak.

Whether or not she was connected to Charlie's disappearance was something he'd soon find out.

Chapter 48

THE FOLLOWING EVENING Max watched Eloise being picked up outside Noah's Ark by the silver SUV. It had just turned six p.m. He tailed the car to Pétionville, where it pulled into the driveway of a two-story house on a tree-lined residential street near the town center.

Max drove down the road, trained his sights on the house, and parked at the end.

After an hour, he took a walk to check the place out. It was pitch-black outside. Not only was the street completely deserted, but no one seemed to be living in any of the other houses either. There wasn't a single light coming from any of them. And neither did he pick up a single sound, other than the song of the cicadas and the branches creaking above his head. It was eerily quiet. He didn't even hear the mountain drums.

He inspected the house from the opposite side of the road. A TV was on in an upstairs room. He wondered if Eloise was watching a video like the one he'd found.

He returned to the Land Cruiser.

* * *