Too Close to Home

I found three listings for Burgess in the Promise Falls directory and wrote down the number and address for each. “Thank you,” I said, handing the book back to Agnes. “And for the lemonade, too. So long, Boots.”

As I walked down the driveway, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket. I thought a quick call to Barry was in order, to tell him that it had occurred to Derek, after he’d been through the Langley house, that the computer tower was missing. It either meant something or it didn’t, but he might as well know.

I realized I’d not turned the phone on when I left home, and hit the button to bring it to life. While I waited for it to come on, I happened to glance up the street and saw a black car sitting there, a block or more away. As I took a couple of steps toward my truck, the car, a Grand Marquis, started moving, and rather than get in I decided to wait and see whether this had anything to do with me.

The car pulled up alongside the truck, and before it had come to a full stop the back window powered down.

“Hello, Randall,” I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

Mayor Finley flashed me his big shit-eating grin. “Cutter, you son of a bitch, would it kill you to say ‘Your Worship’?”

“It might,” I said.

“Listen, Jim, have you got a minute? I’d really like to talk to you.”

“I’m kind of working,” I said. “How did you find me here?”

“I asked Ellen,” he said. “She tried to call you.”

“My cell was off,” I said.

Finley said, “I told her it was really important, and when she couldn’t raise you, she told me where we might find you. Come on. Take a minute. Get out of that heat.” He opened the door, his version of an official invitation.

“Randy, really-”

“Please, Cutter, come on. I’m asking real nice here.”

So I opened the back door wide enough to get in. Finley shifted over to the other side of the seat. It was wonderful and cool back there. As I pulled the door shut, Lance Garrick turned around in the driver’s seat and sneered, “Hey, Cutter, how goes the weed whacking?”

I pretended he wasn’t there.

“Lance,” said the mayor, “instead of sitting around wasting gas, why don’t we drive around a bit? That okay with you?” Finley asked me.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll sit back and enjoy the A/C.”

“Pretty fucking hot week to be cutting grass, and on a Sunday, too,” Lance said, shaking his head, making a “tsk-tsk” noise, as if I were in violation of some Promise Falls bylaw. He looked ahead, steered, and said, “Mighty cool in here, though.”

“Lucky you,” I said, unable to ignore him completely.

“Yeah, I sure wouldn’t want to be cutting grass in this heat, no sirree Bob.”

“I get it, Lance,” I said.

“If I was, like, fourteen, then it’d be a different story.”

“Lance,” Finley said, “would you just shut the fuck up?” To me, he said, “I gotta see if there’s money in the next budget for one of those pieces of glass between the seats.” Up front, Lance twitched. “I want to have a talk here, Lance. Can you put in your fucking iPod or something?”

“I didn’t bring it,” he said, sounding hurt.

“Then just watch the fucking road,” Finley said. “I’m conducting business back here.”

Not so far, I thought. I was just looking out the window, enjoying the ride. I wondered whether Randall would get Lance to wipe my sweat off the gray leather seat after I got dropped off back at my truck.

“Jim,” Mayor Finley said, “you’re looking good. You really are.”

I didn’t say anything.

“How y’all managing, after this thing at the Langleys’? You must be shook up. How’s your wife and boy?”

“What can I do for you, Randy?” I said.

“That’s the Jim Cutter I know. Cut to the chase, no pun intended. That’s something I always liked about you. Langley, he acted for me on a number of occasions, did you know that? His office, not him personally, even handled my divorce from my first wife.” He paused a moment. “Or my second. Or maybe it was both of them.”

I rubbed my hand over the leather seat between us. I wondered how many times Finley had gotten laid back here.

“Yeah,” I said. “Albert did work for a lot of the movers and shakers around Promise Falls. That is, if Promise Falls is big enough to have movers and shakers.”

Finley laughed. “True enough. We’re not Albany. We’re a smaller pond. But even one of those has a few big fish, am I right?”

I waited.

“The thing is,” Randall Finley said, his voice growing more quiet, “I’m thinking of making a move.”

“A move?” I said. “Jane finally kicking you out of the house?” A reference to his third wife, who’d stood by him for longer than anyone would have expected. She must have been expecting a payoff at some point to stay with Randall Finley, or was just a hell of a lot more forgiving than the two wives who’d gone before her.

“Funny one,” he said. “I’m taking a run at Congress.”

I had no reaction.

“What?” Finley said. “No smart-ass comment?”

“Knock yourself out, Randy. Run for Congress. Run for president. It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t be voting for you.”