Jack lifted his cigar to his face and his mouth turned up into a sinister smile. “He means something to her,” Jack said. “Doesn’t he?”

Henry flinched, and then quickly composed his face into what he hoped looked like dismissive disbelief. “Because of the tape?” he asked. “She wanted to humiliate him.”

“You see it, too,” Jack said with a certainty that raised the hackles on Henry’s neck. Jack puffed on his cigar, and the air filled with the woody smell of it. “This business I’m in, it’s not just sales,” Jack said. “It’s politics. It’s manipulation. It’s dogs pissing on each other.” He puffed on the cigar again. A patrol cop jogged by, holding his hat on. “Everyone has a weakness,” Jack said. He looked down toward Henry’s bad leg as if to demonstrate. Henry shifted his weight uncomfortably. “When you can find what that is, you can exploit it,” Jack continued. “That’s power. You think you know what I do? You don’t know half of it. This island?” He waved the cigar in front of them. “I could buy ten of these. I could pay cash for them tomorrow. I am very good at this. I see people’s vulnerabilities. And Archie Sheridan means something to her. And it’s going to get her caught.” Jack lowered the cigar and his face shadowed. “I wonder what he’ll do then,” he said.

Henry waved his hand in front of his face, clearing away the cigar smoke. “What do you want him to do, Jack?” Henry asked.

“Same as you, my friend,” Jack said. “I want him to kill her.” He lifted his cigar to his mouth again and his eyes sparkled. “Think he will?”

Henry didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading. “I don’t know,” he said. He scanned the grounds, looking for Claire, and was pleased to see her silhouette coming across the yard from the direction of the boathouse, a flashlight bouncing in her hand. The pregnancy had changed her walk, but Henry would still know her anywhere.

“I can help,” Jack said, stepping close to Henry. “I can get you an unmarked weapon. Clean things up.”

Henry turned slowly and looked at Jack. He was perfectly still, the cigar burning in one hand, the drink in the other. Henry rubbed his eyes. “Where’s your lawyer, Jack?”

Jack shrugged, but Henry could tell the gesture was forced. “Leo? He’s at the club,” Jack said.

“Well, you might want to get advice from counsel before you conspire to commit murder,” Henry said. “You know, for next time.”

Claire had almost reached them.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack said.

Claire angled the flashlight to Henry’s right, and he stepped away from Jack and walked over so that they could speak privately.

“You make a new friend?” she asked.