So they never did. And MacSherry kept the money he made.
If I say any of that on the recording, he won’t acknowledge it. So I simply nod.
“I owed him a share. That’s why he came here. To collect it.”
He slides his eyes briefly toward Salem before looking back to me. “For several months before that, he’d been . . . unavailable.”
The seven months Baltimore was in prison, he means. His only stint, ever: a class-one misdemeanor charge for impersonating an officer. It’s during that time he talked to Salem.
I can sense she’s wound tight over there, torn between wanting to take over and not wanting to disturb whatever fragile link is keeping MacSherry out here after he got dressed down so thoroughly. But I think she can tell we’re on short time, now—that MacSherry won’t want us here for much longer.
So I have to get what I can in the time we have.
“And did you give it to him?”
I’m really fucking sick of that smile.
“Of course I did. I’m a man of my word.”
Without looking, I know it’s Jess who huffs out a breath. Sardonic and dismissive, andnoticeable. It’s terrible timing, but I can’t blame her. Probably I’ll congratulate her for it later, if I can get up the courage to talk to her without weirdly asking her to say my name again.
MacSherry’s eyebrows lift briefly. Time’s up, I think.
“It took me a few days to pull it together,” he says. “Five. As I mentioned.”
Salem gets desperate, interrupting. “And while Baltimore was here, did he—”
MacSherry stands, cane in hand. “I’ve just remembered another engagement. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short.”
“No, wait!” Tegan bolts upward from her chair, her voice overloud. “Iwanted to ask things!”
“Teeg,” Jess says softly, in a tone that’s so different from the way she talked to MacSherry.
“You said you wouldn’t interrupt me again.”
“I didn’t say that.” She’s still using that soft, gentle tone. “Today isn’t—”
I don’t get to know how she’s going to finish that sentence, because this time, it’s Tegan who walks away. It’s not the silent, controlled stride Jess left her house with a few days ago; it’s Tegan shoving her hands into her hair and letting out a frustrated, teenaged, “Argh!” before stomping off the patio, presumably back around front to where the van is. Obviously that’s not the way to get her questions asked, but I’m pretty sure she’s not thinking straight.
MacSherry’s all Cheshire cat again. Pleased as punch. “Well! Wasn’t this a dramatic morning?”
Fuck off, I want to say, but hold my tongue. Salem begins an apology, but I can’t listen. He doesn’t deserve one. What he wanted was two hours of us stroking his ego over the clever crimes he’s committed and never been punished for. I don’t feel even a little bad that he didn’t get it.
Instead I look at Jess, whose jaw is set tight as she watches her sister’s angry retreat.
“. . . what if you and I—” Salem is saying to MacSherry.
“We’re done here,” Jess cuts in, and Salem maybe doesn’t have lightning-bolt capacities, but she’s no slouch, either. She looks so mad at Jess that I instinctively step toward the fire pit and shut off the recording.
This is a goddamned mess. Right now,we’rethe story. The broken compass, on display.
It’s the opposite of the plan.
Salem takes a deep breath, clearly stifling the urge to snap back at Jess. She’s gearing up to do more placating of MacSherry, but Jess stops her before she can speak again.
“We don’t need him. I know why they went to Pensacola.”
MacSherry turns to her. The fastest I’ve seen him move all day.
