Bo sat in the driver’s seat and rubbed at his eyes. He thought about Switzerland, and the thought made him homesick for where he was. Would it be this way when he was there, being paid a handsome yearly income by a fictitious firm, living high on the hog? He didn’t want to go.

Maybe he could still save it here. Scotty and John Howell couldn’t know anything. How could they? He had been too careful. But even if they did, why should he allow them to drive him away? He began to feel an increasingly strong resolve to stay and survive. God knew, he was a survivor if he was anything. And anyway, Eric Sutherland might really come through one of these days. McCauliffe had let slip that Sutherland had made a new will. Bo wondered what was in it. There might be a lot to stay for, after all.

It had been a long time since Bo had killed anybody, but to preserve what he had here, to keep from being uprooted from a place he loved, that might be a price worth paying again. Anyway, if he had to, he could find a way to do it and get away with it. The thought of doing it to Scotty stabbed at him, but, he was beginning to see, it might not be possible to avoid it.

“I thought you intercepted the letter.”

“I did, but when he didn’t hear from Neiman’s, he must have called them.”

“Well, you’re fucked, now, Scotty.”

“So give me some advice. You’re the ace reporter, what do I do now?”

“Do? Why, you get your ass out of here in a hurry, that’s what you do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Jesus, because Bo can’t let you go on doing what you’re doing. He’s got to take you out of the picture, and, probably, me with you. Listen, Scotty, take the ledger sheets to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. If you can find a sympathetic ear there, you might get somebody to get a search warrant, then swoop down on Bo and find not just the ledger sheets, but other stuff, too. There’s the passport charge. You might get a decent story out of it, yet. All this time under cover, working in his office; you should be able to get some good stuff in print.”

“What stuff? How I collected parking tickets and ran the radio on Mike’s lunch hour? Boy, that’s really sexy, isn’t it. No, I want more than that.”

“But you can’t get it, now. Don’t you see that? He’s not going to make a wrong move while you’re around – that is, if he allows you to go on living.”

“He’s going to make a move on the tenth of this month. Look at it from his angle, John. He’s pretty cocky, you know. He’ll think he can pull off this next thing right under my nose.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be too far off the mark, would he? All you’ve got is this schedule, and even though you know when it’s going to happen, you don’t know what or where do you?”

“No, you haven’t. You won’t live a week. Listen, Scotty, if you don’t pack up and get back to Atlanta today, I mean right now, I’m going to go to Bo and tell him who you are and blow your whole ball game.” Howell knew, even as he said this, that it didn’t carry much conviction, but he felt he had to try to get her to protect herself.

“He already knows who I am, smartass, or thinks he does. If you do that, I’ll come up with a good story. I’ll tell him I was dipping into my expense money at the paper and got fired and changed my name out of shame and came up here to lose myself. Anyway, if I go, you’ve got to go, too. He’ll know you know everything I do. How can you find out about the O’Coineens then?”

That stopped in his tracks for a moment. “No, no,” he continued, but with even less conviction, “if he brings it up, I’ll just tell him that you came up here to find out if he was dirty, then couldn’t find out anything and left.”

“Oh, yeah? You think he’d buy that? Bo’s a lot more careful than that. He wouldn’t be happy until you were out of the way.”

“Scotty, please, know when you’re licked. Go.”

Scotty stood up. “I’m going to work,” she said, emphatically.

“You’re going to get blown away, Scotty.”

She rummaged deeply in her handbag. “Oh, no, I’m not,” she replied, pulling out a small revolver and waving it above her head. “I’ll defend myself if I have to.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Howell howled.

“And I know how to use it, too,” she said, triumphantly. “I took a course.”

“Yeah? What gun did you shoot with?”

“A police thirty-eight.”

“Well, what you’ve got there is a.25 Saturday night special with a two-inch barrel. Just remember that you won’t be able to hit anything more than a few feet away, and that it probably won’t stop what you hit. All that will do is just help you get killed faster.” He reached for it. “Give me that.”

She snatched it away and dropped it into her purse again. “No, sir. I’m hanging onto it, and I’ll use it if I have to.” She started for the door.

Howell felt totally helpless. “Scotty.”

She turned. “Yeah?”

“Bo knows. You know Bo knows, but Bo doesn’t know you know he knows.” Howell shook his head to clear it. “I think that’s right. Anyway, that’s all you’ve got going for you, that he doesn’t know you know he knows.”

“This is starting to sound like an Abbot and Costello routine.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t back him into a corner, Scotty. Let him think he’s in control. And for God’s sake, don’t let yourself end up alone with him, okay?”

Scotty nodded. “Okay. That’s good advice. That’s what I need from you, now, John, good advice. See you later.”

Howell watched her walk down the steps to her car, then he closed the door and leaned on it. They were in a whole new ball game, now, and he didn’t like it at all.

28

Howell paid for the groceries at the supermarket and waited while a teenager bagged them. His eye wandered about the store and stopped. A glass partition separated the modern grocery store from its equally modern drug department a few steps away. On the other side of the glass, he saw Leonie Kelly paying for something at the prescription counter. He turned to the boy bagging the groceries and handed him half a dollar. “Just put them in the green station wagon over there,” he said, pointing toward the parking lot.

He started toward the door, glancing through the glass again to see if Leonie had left, then he saw something he had not bargained for. She was walking toward the front of the drugstore, her back to the clerk at the prescription counter; as she passed near a shelf, she reached out, took a packet of something, and dropped it into her handbag.

Howell watched her leave the store without paying for it, then hurried to catch up with her. “Leonie!” he called out.

When she turned, she did not look glad to see him. “Sorry, I can’t stop to talk right now. I’ve got to get back to the house. Mama needs some medicine. I’ve just had her prescription filled.”

“I’ll walk you to your car, then,” he said, falling into step with her. She said nothing. “Listen, I could grow old waiting for you to call me. Why don’t we get together the next day or two?”

“I can’t. Mama needs me all the time, now. I just can’t get away.”

She seemed very cool and distant. They had reached the Kelly truck, and she climbed into the driver’s seat. Her sister, Mary, waited patiently for her. “Hey, John,” the girl said.

“Hey, Mary.” He turned to Leonie. “Listen, things must be pretty rough for you right now. Can I lend you a few hundred bucks to help get you through this?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Why on earth do you think I would take any money from you?” She seemed insulted by the idea.

“Well, look,” he said, lowering his voice so that Mary wouldn’t hear him, “taking a few bucks from a friend beats shoplifting, any day.” She looked taken aback. “I saw you in the drugstore,” he said, feeling immediately guilty, as if he had been deliberately spying on her.