Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty–one
- Twenty–two
- Twenty–three
- Twenty–four
- Twenty–five
- Twenty–six
- Twenty–seven
- Twenty–eight
- Twenty–nine
- Thirty
- Thirty–one
- Thirty–two
- Thirty–three
- Thirty–four
- Thirty–five
- Thirty–six
- Thirty–seven
- Thirty–eight
- Thirty–nine
- Forty
- Forty–one
- Forty–two
- Forty–three
- Forty–four
- Forty–five
- Forty–six
- Forty–seven
- Forty–eight
- Forty–nine
- Fifty
- Fifty–one
- Fifty–two
- Fifty–three
- Fifty–four
- Fifty–five
- Fifty–six
- Fifty–seven
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
This is what he was thinking about while pretending to see the things that Carlo was pointing out. Beaufort thought he did pretty good with the conversation, sidestepping most of the questions. But he’d gotten a little cocky by the time the jockey business came up. What was with all those questions? And him offering unnecessary information. Was Pompano Park even around in the seventies? Stupid! Jerry said he had to use the bathroom, and the young girl showed it to him. There he held his hand up and saw it shaking in the mirror. The bandage on his palm was peeling around the edges. He sank to his knees in front of the john as if he would throw up, and actually did heave a bit. He let his forehead rest on the toilet seat a moment. A little better, but standing in the backyard wasn’t getting him anywhere near what he was looking for, and it was time to go.
As he did with the utensils at dinner, Jerry was careful not to leave a print in the bathroom in case the wife began to suspect him. He didn’t suppose he had given her any reason, but you never knew what those people were thinking. Could she get his DNA somehow? Would it have been left on the fork that he put in his mouth, or even on his plate? As he thought about this his stomach wrenched again, but he took a deep breath and it passed. He used his wrist to flush the toilet, and likewise to raise and lower the water faucet handle. A piece of tissue worked for the door handle. Goddamn forensic science.
Telling himself that he was overreacting to the horse track business, and that just getting inside the house was progress, he felt a little calmer now. When he opened the bathroom door, to the left he saw two more rooms in darkness except for a shaft of light from a ceiling fixture in the hall. In the room on the right he could barely make out what looked like an office desk with a file cabinet next to it. It could be there.
In the room on the left he saw bookshelves that ran not just along the wall the way bookshelves usually do, but down the center of the room as well. It looked like a little library. He stood at the entrance to the room despite himself, as if it had hypnotized him, was luring him into its darkness. It could be there instead. He started to hum his old tune absentmindedly.
The overhead light went on, and Beaufort, jumpier than he thought, jumped.
“I’m sorry, Jerry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Carlo’s voice behind him said. “Do you like to read?”
“Some,” Beaufort said.
“What are you reading?”