Secret Prey

it’s going to find its way into a gossip column.’’
    ‘‘Not from me it won’t,’’ Lucas said.
    A piece of art hung from the wall behind Jones’s desk. The print was colorful and maybe even beautiful, though it resembled a woman hacked up with a pizza cutter. Lucas, who knew almost nothing about fine art, suspected it was a Picasso.
    ‘‘And the thing is, if it does, I’d be severely damaged . . .’’
    ‘‘I can assure you it won’t happen,’’ Lucas said patiently.
    Jones rubbed the back of his neck and said, ‘‘All right. If somebody absolutely pushed T-Bone up against the wall, when the only option was kill or be killed, he’d kill. But this situation isn’t like that. He’s already got a lot of money, and he’s good enough that he could go somewhere else in a top job. So I don’t see it.’’
    ‘‘Assume that somehow, we don’t know how, he was pushed to the wall. Emotionally, psychologically, or maybe he gambles and we don’t know it.’’
    Jones shook his head. ‘‘Even then . . . he’s the kind of guy who’d always figure he could recover. Always get back. The thing is, he grew up poor. Did you know that?’’
    ‘‘No.’’
    ‘‘Yeah, some cracker family down south somewhere, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama. He made it all on his own. He’s a guy who figures he can always do it again. I don’t think he’d . . .’’
    His voice died away.
    ‘‘What?’’ Lucas asked.
    ‘‘You know . . . If you come at this from another angle . . . We’re talking about whether he’d cold-bloodedly kill someone because he’d lose money or his job; and I don’t think he would. But I can see him killing somebody if the other person had something on him,’’ Jones said. ‘‘ Blackmail, for instance. If Kresge had something really serious on him, and threatened to use it, for some reason, I can see Bone killing him for that reason. Not to keep it from being used, but because the threat, or the extortion, would . . . besmirch his honor.’’ He mused over the thought, then jerked his head in a nod: ‘‘Yep. That would do it. That’s the only way I see Bone deliberately killing somebody. But it would have to be deadly serious, and it would have to be deadly personal.’’
    ‘‘What about Terrance Robles?’’
    ‘‘I don’t know him well enough to answer. I really don’t.’’
    ‘‘Susan O’Dell?’’
    ‘‘Susan couldn’t do it. She’s crusty and calculating and all that, but she’s got a soft interior.’’
    ‘‘I’ve seen a deer that would disagree with you,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘You mean the hunting? That’s cultural,’’ Jones said. ‘‘People from out there, out on the prairie, farmers, have a whole different attitude toward the life and death of animals than they do the life and death of people. I really don’t think she could kill anyone. I’m not even sure she could do it in self-defense, to be honest with you. Nope. You’re barking up the wrong tree with Susan.’’
    ‘‘Wilson McDonald.’’
    Jones frowned. ‘‘I can see him killing somebody, but it’d be in hot blood, not cold blood. If he was drunk and angry, he might strike out. He’s got a violent streak, and he can be sneaky about it. But as for pulling off a calculated killing . . . I don’t think so. Actually, I think he’d be chicken. He’d start imagining all the things that could go wrong, and, you know, being thrown in prison with a bunch of sodomites. I don’t think so.’’
    ‘‘What about the moral equation—would it be . . .’’
    ‘‘Oh, it wouldn’t be a moral problem for him. He’d just be chicken. Wilson McDonald’s a classic bully, with all the classic characteristics of a bully: he’s a coward at heart.’’
    LUCAS MET SHERRILL IN THE SKYWAY OFF CITY CENTER, and she was shaking her head as she came up. ‘‘They’re all innocent,’’ she said. ‘‘What happened with Louise Freeman?’’
    Louise Freeman was the gossip mentioned by Bone’s attorney friend Sandra Ollsen. ‘‘She and her old man went to New York,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘She’s back on Friday. I talked to Jones instead.’’
    ‘‘How about Black? Did he get anything?’’
    ‘‘Haven’t talked to him yet. He’s supposed to call when he’s done talking with Markham. So: You’ll take Bennett, and I’ll take Kerr.’’
    ‘‘Why don’t we go over to Saks first,’’ she suggested. ‘‘You can buy me something expensive.’’
    ‘‘I’ve got about