jg.thepartner-第12部分

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　The　language　of　money　prevailed；　with　Luis　eventually　prehending　the　offer　of　five　hundred　U。S。　dollars　in　return　for　his　services　as　a　photographer。　He　agreed　to　purchase　three　disposable　cameras；　take　almost　a　hundred　shots；　get　them　developed　overnight；　and　to　hide　them　far　from　the　hospital　until　further　orders。
　Patrick　didn't　have　five　hundred　dollars　on　him；　but　he　persuaded　Luis　that　he　was　an　honest　man；　regardless　of　what　he　might　have　heard；　and　that　he　would　send　the　money　as　soon　as　he　got　home。
　Luis　wasn't　much　of　a　photographer；　but　then　he　didn't　have　much　of　a　camera。　Patrick　coordinated　every　shot。　There　were　close…ups　of　the　serious　burns　on　his　chest　and　thigh；　close…ups　of　his　badly　bruised　limbs；　full…length　shots　from　every　angle。　They　worked　fast　so　they　wouldn't　get　caught。　It　was　almost　time　for　lunch　and　another　round　of　busy　nurses　with　charts　and　incessant　chatter。
　Luis　left　the　hospital　on　his　lunch　break　and　dropped　the　film　off　at　a　camera　shop。
　IN　RIO；　Osmar　convinced　a　low…paid　secretary　at　Eva's　law　firm　to　accept　a　thousand　dollars　in　cash　in　exchange　for　all　the　current　in…house　gossip。　There　wasn't　much。　Things　were　very　quiet　among　the　partners。　But　the　phone　records　revealed　two　calls　to　the　firm　from　a　number　in　Zurich。　It　was　a　hotel；　Guy　determined　from　Washington；　but　no　other　information　was　available。　The　Swiss　were　so　discreet。
　Her　partners　had　no　patience　with　her　disappearance。　Their　quiet　gossip　about　her　soon　changed　to　daily　meetings　about　what　to　do。　She'd　called　once　the　first　day；　once　the　second；　then　no　word。　The　mysterious　client　she　had　flown　off　to　see　could　not　be　verified。　Meanwhile；　her　legitimate　clients　were　making　demands　and　threats。　She　missed　appointments；　meetings；　deadlines。
　Finally；　they　decided　to　temporarily　remove　her　from　the　firm；　and　deal　with　her　later　when　she　returned。
　Osmar　and　his　men　stalked　Eva's　father　until　the　poor　man　was　unable　to　sleep。　They　watched　his　apartment　lobby　and　followed　him　in　traffic　and　along　the　busy　sidewalks　of　Ipanema。　There　was　talk　of　snatching　him　and　roughing　him　up　a　bit；　forcing　him　to　talk；　but　he　was　careful　and　never　allowed　himself　to　be　isolated。
　ON　HIS　THIRD　TRIP　to　her　bedroom；　Lance　finally　found　the　door　unlocked。　He　entered　quietly　with　another　Valium　and　her　favorite　bottled　sparkling　water；　from　Ireland；　four　bucks　a　bottle；　and　he　sat　next　to　her　on　the　bed　without　a　word　and　held　out　the　pill。　She　took　it；　her　second　in　an　hour；　and　she　sipped　the　water。
　The　police　car　carrying　the　chubby　photographer　had　left　an　hour　ago。　Two　cops　hung　around　for　twenty　minutes；　asking　their　questions；　apparently　not　anxious　to　press　charges　since　it　was　private　property；　and　the　press　had　been　told　to　stay　away；　the　publication　was　a　sleazy　magazine　from　up　North　anyway。　The　cops　seemed　quite　sympathetic；　even　respectful　of　the　way　Lance　handled　the　situation。　They　were　given　the　name　of　Trudy's　attorney　downtown　in　case　charges　were　to　be　pressed。　Lance　threatened　to　press　charges　of　his　own　if　hauled　into　court。
　Trudy　snapped　after　the　cops　left。　She　threw　cushions　from　a　sofa　into　the　fireplace　as　the　nanny　raced　off　with　the　child。　She　yelled　obscenities　at　Lance　because　he　was　the　nearest　target。　It　was　just　too　much…　the　news　about　Patrick；　the　lawsuit　by　the　insurance　pany；　the　restraining　order；　the　horde　of　vultures　out　front；　and　then　Lance　had　caught　a　photographer　by　the　pool。
　But　she　was　quiet　now。　He'd　had　a　Valium　too；　and　he　sighed　relief　that　she　was　under　control。　He　wanted　to　touch　her；　to　pat　her　on　the　knee　and　say　something　nice；　but　such　gestures　never　worked　on　her　in　these　situations。　A　wrong　move　and　she　would　snap　again。　Trudy　would　cool　down；　but　only　on　her　own　terms。
　Trudy　reclined　on　the　bed；　closed　her　eyes；　placed　the　back　of　her　wrist　on　her　forehead。　The　room　was　dark；　like　the　rest　of　the　house…blinds　and　shades　pulled　tight；　lights　off　or　dimmed。　There　were　a　hundred　people　loitering　out　by　the　road　taking　pictures　and　shooting　film　to　be　used　with　all　those　wretched　Patrick　stories。　At　noon；　she'd　seen　her　house　on　the　local　news；　in　the　background　as　some　silly　orange…faced　woman　with　large　teeth　gushed　on　about　Patrick　this　and　Patrick　that；　and　the　divorce　filed　by　Patrick's　wife　that　very　morning。
　Patrick's　wife！　The　thought　made　her　numb　with　disbelief。　She　hadn't　been　Patrick's　wife　for　almost　four　and　a　half　years。　She'd　buried　him　right　properly；　then　tried　to　forget　about　him　as　she　waited　for　the　money。　By　the　time　she　received　it；　he　was　a　fading　memory。
　The　only　painful　moment　had　e　when　she　sat　down　with　Ashley　Nicole　to　inform　the　child；　then　barely　two；　that　her　father　would　no　longer　be　around；　that　he　had　gone　on　to　heaven　where　he　would　certainly　be　happier。　The　child　was　puzzled　for　a　while；　then　shook　it　off　as　only　a　toddler　can。　No　one　was　allowed　to　mention　Patrick's　name　in　the　presence　of　the　child。　This　was　to　protect　her；　Trudy　had　explained。　She　doesn't　remember　her　father；　so　please　don't　try　and　make　her。
　Other　than　that　one　brief　episode；　she　had　shouldered　the　weight　of　widowhood　with　remarkable　resiliency。　She　shopped　in　New　Orleans；　ordered　health　foods　from　California；　sweated　two　hours　a　day　in　designer　spandex；　and　treated　herself　to　expensive　facials　and　treatments。　She　had　a　nanny　to　keep　the　kid　so　she　and　Lance　could　travel。　They　loved　the　Caribbean；　especially　St。　Barts　with　its　nude　beaches。　They　stripped　and　strutted　with　the　French。
　Christmas　was　in　New　York　at　the　Plaza。　January　was　in　Vail　with　the　rich　and　beautiful。　May　meant　Paris　and　Vienna。　They　longed　for　a　private　jet　like　some　of　the　wonderful　people　they'd　met　in　the　fast　lane。　A　small；　used　Lear　could　be　bought　for　a　million；　but　for　now　was　out　of　the　question。
　Lance　claimed　to　be　working　on　this　idea；　and　she　worried　anytime　he　grew　serious　about　business　matters。　She　knew　he　smuggled　dope；　but　it　was　just　pot　and　hash　from　Mexico　and　there　was　little　risk。　They　needed　the　ine；　and　she　liked　him　out　of　the　house　occasionally。
　She　didn't　hate　Patrick；　not　the　dead　one　anyway。　She　just　hated　the　fact　that　he　wasn't　dead；　that　he　had　been　resurrected　and　was　back　to　plicate　things。　She'd　first　met　him　at　a　party　in　New　Orleans；　during　a　period　of　time　when　she　was　pouting　with　Lance　and　looking　for　another　husband；　preferably　one　with　money　and　promise。　She　was　twenty…seven；　four　years　out　of　a　bad　marriage　and　restless　for　stability。　He　was　thirty…three；　still　single　and　ready　to　settle　down。　He　had　just　accepted　a　job　with　a　nice　firm　in　Biloxi；　which　was　where　she　happened　to　be　living　at　the　time。　After　four　months　of　nonstop　passion；　they　were　married　in　Jamaica。　Three　weeks　after　the　honeymoon；　Lance　sneaked　into　their　new　apartment　and　spent　the　night　while　Patrick　was　away　on　business。
　She　couldn't　lose　the　money；　that　was　for　certain。　Her　lawyer　would　simply　have　to　do　something；　find　some　loophole　which　would　allow　her　to　keep　it。　That's　what　he　got　paid　to　do。　Surely　the　insurance　pany　couldn't　get　the　house；　the　furniture　and　cars　and　clothes；　the　bank　accounts；　the　boat；　the　fabulous　things　she'd　bought　with　the　money。　It　just　didn't　seem　fair。　Patrick　had　died。　She'd　buried　him。　She'd　been　a　widow　now　for　over　four　years。　That　must　count　for　something。
　It　wasn't　her　fault　he　was　alive。
　〃We'll　have　to　kill　him；　you　know；〃　Lance　said　in　the　semidarkness。　He　had　moved　to　a　cushioned　chair　between　the　bed　and　the　window；　his　bare　feet　draped　over　an　ottoman。
　She　didn't　move；　didn't　flinch　in　the　smallest　way；　but　thought　about　it　for　a　second　before　saying；　〃Don't　be　stupid。〃　This　she　offered　with　little　conviction。
　〃There　is　no　alternative；　you　know　that。〃
　〃We're　in　enough　trouble。〃
　She　only　breathed；　her　wrist　still　stuck　to　her　forehead；　eyes　closed；　perfectly　still；　and　actually　quite　happy　that　Lance　had　broached　the　subject。　She；　of　course；　had　thought　about　this　within　minutes　of　being　told　that　Patrick　was　headed　home。　She　had　walked　through　various　scenarios；　each　leading　to　the　same　inescapable　conclusion：　to　keep　the　money；　Patrick　must　be　dead。　It　was；　after　all；　an　insurance　policy　on　his　life。
　She　couldn't　kill　him；　that　was　a　ridiculous　notion。　Lance；　on　the　other　hand；　had　lots　of　shadowy　friends　in　dark　places。
　〃You　wanna　keep　the　money；　don't　you？〃　he　asked。
　〃I　can't　think　about　it　now；　Lance。　Maybe　later。〃　Perhaps　real　soon。　She　couldn't　seem　eager　or　Lance　would　get　too　excited。　As　usual；　she　would　manipulate　him；　string　him　along　into　some　devilish　plot　until　it　was　too　late　for　him　to　back　out。
　〃We　can't　wait　too　long；　baby。　Hell；　the　life　insurance　pany's　already　got　us　choked。〃
　〃Please；　Lance。〃
　〃There　ain't　no　way　around　it。　You　wanna　keep　this　house；　the　money；　everything　we've　got；　then　he's　gotta　die。〃
　She　didn't　speak　or　move　for　a　long　time；　but　his　words　delighted　her　soul。　In　spite　of　half　a　brain　and　many　other　flaws；　Lance　was　the　only　man　she'd　ever　loved。　He　was　nasty　enough　to　take　care　of　Patrick；　but　was　he　smart　enough　not　to　get　caught？
　THE　AGENT'S　NAME　was　Brent　Myers；　from　the　office　in　Biloxi；　sent　by　Cutter　to　make　contact　with　their　prize。　He　introduced　himself　and　flashed　a　badge　at　Patrick；　who　hardly　acknowledged　it　while　reaching　for　the　remote。　〃A　pleasure；〃　he　said　as　he　pulled　the　sheets　over　his　boxer　shorts。
　〃I'm　from　the　office　in　Biloxi；〃　Myers　said；　genuinely　trying　to　be　nice。
　〃Where's　that？〃　Patrick　asked；　poker…faced。
　〃Yes；　well；　I　thought　we　should　meet　and　get　to　know　each　other。　We'll　be　spending　some　time　together　during　the　next　few　months。〃
　〃Don't　be　so　sure　of　that。〃
　〃Do　you　have　a　lawyer？〃
　〃Not　yet。〃
　〃Do　you　plan　to　hire　one？〃
　〃Absolutely　none　of　your　business。〃
　Myers　was　obviously　no　match　for　a　seasoned　lawyer　like　Lanigan。　He　placed　his　hands　on　the　railing　across　the　foot　of　the　bed；　and　stared　at　Patrick　with　his　best　effort　at　intimidation。　〃Doc　says　you　might　be　ready　to　transport　in　two　days；〃　he　said。
　〃So。　I'm　ready　now。〃
　〃There's　quite　a　party　waiting　on　you　in　Biloxi。〃
　〃I've　been　watching；〃　Patrick　said；　nodding　at　the　television。
　〃Don't　suppose　you'd　want　to　answe