Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

thought about what Jean-Marc had said about her using men. I thought, too, about what she herself had said to me at Long Beach.
    If a man can help keep me safe, I do what I have to do to keep him around.
    I thought back to the rabid mastiff that had attacked her, how she had seemed like a ragdoll in its mouth. “That was different,” I said.
    “Actually, it’s not. It’s no different at all.”
    “I’m sorry, Marie.”
    “Jean-Marc got to you, didn’t he? He gets to everybody, one way or another. Tell me, did he buy you off? Or did he give you something you think you need?”
    I didn’t say anything at first. Finally, I looked at my glass and said, “Your family problems have nothing to do with me.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong.”
    “Your father’s worried about you, Marie. He’s dying and wants to know that you’re okay.”
    “My father’s in a coma, Mac. Has been for the past six months. He’s dying, yes. But he’s the one who told me to run, to get as far away from my brother as I could and stay there.”
    I looked at her again. “According to Jean-Marc your father’s conscious.”
    “He lied. I doubt it was the only lie he told you.”
    I waited a moment, thinking about that, then said “Why did your father tell you to going into hiding?”
    “Because when he dies there’ll be nothing holding Jean-Marc back. Because when he dies all hell is going to break loose. All this, everything that’s happened up till now, this is just the start.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Does Jean-Marc know you met with me, that we talked?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then your life is in danger, Mac.”
    “Why?”
    “Because whatever deal you made with him, or think you made with him, was for his benefit and his benefit alone.”
    I said nothing to that.
    “If he knows you met with me, then it’s possible I told you.”
    “Told me what?”
    “What he doesn’t want anyone to know. What people are getting killed over.” She paused. “His secret.”
    “What secret, Marie?” I heard impatience in my voice, the beginnings of panic.
    Secrets were mines waiting to be triggered.
    “Not here.”
    “I’m not leaving.”
    “I’ll offer you a deal.”
    “I’m done with deals.”
    “This one’s easy.”
    I waited.
    “Scully is missing,” she said.
    His name caught me like a hook.
    “Help me find him and I’ll tell you everything. I’m dead without him, Mac. I need you to understand that. Maybe this will put it in perspective for you: I’d rather be back in the mouth of that rabid dog than in my brother’s hands again.” She paused to let that sink in. “Please help me, Mac.
    I thought about my deal with Jean-Marc, the gun hidden under my floorboards. I thought about Tina upstairs, leaving me with nowhere to go right now but headfirst into a bottle.
    But mostly I thought about Scully, out there somewhere, roaming free. I thought of Augie walking with his cane. I thought about the only promise I had made that really mattered to me.
    “Yeah, okay,” I said to Marie. “I’ll help you find him.”

Chapter Eleven

    Marie’s car was a Saab with shiny black paint. We rode in it to a cottage on the shore of Fort Pond Bay in Montauk, not far from the train station at the edge of the village.
    Marie pulled to the side of the narrow road and parked on the edge of the yard. We sat together in silence, watching the solitary cottage for a while. Its dark windows reflected the endless night around us, and an unsettling stillness hung over the place, like maybe no one had been there for a very long time.
    I could see the waves of the bay beyond the cottage moving toward shore like layers folding over layers. It was the only motion that my eye could detect in the dark night.
    Marie seemed preoccupied as she stared at the place. She had told me as we made the ride east that she had not heard from Scully since yesterday. She had driven by here several times but never saw any sign of him. She had a key but was afraid to go in by herself. She wanted me to check things out for her.
    I sized the place up, took the key from Marie and crossed the overgrown front lawn to the door. But before I was even halfway there something caught my eye.
    Scully’s pickup was parked in the driveway, on the other side of the cottage. We hadn’t seen it from Marie’s car. The truck’s door was open, its interior light on and burning brightly. I went around to the driveway and saw that someone was lying half in and half out of