36

Portland, Oregon

Tuesday, 25 September

“You could have told me you were a hitman,” Rec Bill says.

“No I couldn’t.”

“Not to mention a fugitive.”

“I’m not a fugitive. I just have some assholes trying to kill me.”

“I’ve noticed. The person they blew up instead was my paleontologist, who I hired you to protect.”

What to say to that?

We’re back in his all-glass office.

“I heard you saw her this morning,” he says.

“That’s true.”

“How is she?”

“Better.”

“She say anything?”

“Not much.”^[71]

“Anything about me?” Rec Bill says.

“No, but it’s funny you should ask me that. Violet told me you and she had some kind of relationship, but that she didn’t understand what it was.”

He stares at me. “She told you that?”

“She did. I thought it was weird. I mean, I’ve gotten to know her pretty well, and I can’t see anything that would hold me back.”

His look turns dismissive. “Thanks for the relationship advice. Is that all you wanted to see me about?”

“No, there’s one other thing. Do you smoke, Rec Bill?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so. Do you mind if other people smoke in here?”

“Yes. There’s no smoking on this whole campus. Sorry.”

I give it a moment. “Last time I was here you had a small ashtray on your desk.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“It was small. Pink and gold. Tacky, like a souvenir from somewhere. It had a business card in it, facedown.”

“Then someone must have given it to me. Where are you going with this? Are you asking me for an ashtray?”

“No. I don’t need one. I don’t know anybody whose business card catches fire.”

It startles him.

He says “This might be a good time for you to leave.”

“You’ll want to hear this.”

“I doubt it.”

“Okay.” I start to rise.

“Hold on,” he says. “Are you accusing me of something?”

I sit back down.

“I’m accusing you of hiring Tom Marvell to go to White Lake with the Palin party.”

“What?” he says. “Why?”

“Probably not to rat me out to the Mob, if Marvell’s the one who did that—which he probably is, intentionally or otherwise. Someone found out I was there, and almost killed me and Violet because of it, and Marvell’s the most likely suspect.”

“And you think I’m the reason Marvell went to Minnesota?”

“He was here before he was there. With his souvenir Vegas ashtray—I mean, what other place still has souvenir ashtrays? And his flaming business card.”

“That’s a leap.”

“You can waste as much of my time as you want to.”

Rec Bill studies me. Eventually says “I interviewed Marvell to go check out the lake monster before I interviewed you. We didn’t see eye to eye, so I went with you instead. I was as surprised as anyone else when he turned up in Ford. I’d shown him the letter and video in complete confidence.”

“You’re saying he went on the White Lake trip on his own?”

“As far as I know. If he’d been working for me, why wouldn’t I have told you about it?”

“Why wouldn’t you have told me you’d interviewed him after I sent you an e-mail saying he was there? Why wouldn’t you have told Violet? For that matter, why wouldn’t you have had Violet pick him up at the airport?”

“I have a lot employees. And a lot of things on my mind.”

“With Violet falling into both of those categories.”

Rec Bill’s mouth tightens. “Finish your insinuating and get out.”

“Okay. You tried to hire Marvell when he was here in this office, but it didn’t work out. Either he said no or he asked for too much money and you said no. So you hired Michael Bennett of Desert Eagle Investigations to do the job you had asked Marvell to do—which was in fact not the job of checking out the lake monster. And when Violet and I busted Mr. Bennett trying to take pictures of us in what he thought was the same bed, you went crawling back to Marvell and paid him whatever he wanted. You even paid Sarah Palin to give Marvell a ride and a cover story—something that must have cost a fortune, and implies that you already knew that Palin was going to be the ref but had chosen not to share that information with me or Violet. Because if you had, we’d have known you didn’t give a shit who the ref was, and therefore that you didn’t give a shit whether there was a monster in White Lake or not. You were afraid of your two million dollars going to Reggie Trager, but other than that the hoax meant nothing to you. You just wanted someone to spy on Violet Hurst. While you sent her into the woods with someone so completely different from you that if she fucked me it would prove to you that she couldn’t possibly be in love with you.”

Rec Bill’s poker face isn’t bad. It’s not great, though, either.

“That’s insane,” he says.

“It’s not exactly mature, in any case. In fact it’s more like the behavior of a twelve-year-old.”

“Get the hell out of my office. Then get the hell off my campus.”

“Stop calling it a campus. It’s a fucking office park. Are you teaching French lit here somewhere?”

“Get out. And another thing. If you say a word of any of this to Violet, I will destroy you.”

“Violet’s my friend. I’ll tell her the truth.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

“No. I said I’ll tell her the truth. Which I will, no matter what you do or say.”

He looks at me with cold eyes that gradually soften and fill with tears. If it’s a performance, it’s passable.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he finally says. “How hard it is for me to trust people.”

“I’d cry you a river, but it’s probably faster for you to just buy one.”

“I need you to help me with her.”

“No thanks. I won’t try to turn her against you, but I sure as hell won’t help you win her over.”

“That’s… fair enough.” He starts to say something, then stops.

“What?”

“Did you and she…? When you went back to White Lake?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I say. “Ask her! Ask her whatever you want. She might not answer, but at least you’ll be behaving like a grown-up.”

“You’re right. I know. I’m sorry.”

He slumps, staring down at his desk. Or at his feet. With all that glass it’s hard to tell.

“Do you… want more money?” he finally says.

“No. What you owe me should be enough. What I want is help spending it.”