Overkill(71)

Sid knew he was lying. Up had recognized the unconstrained malice in Eban’s character. For years, he’d tried to open Sid’s eyes to it, advising him to exercise some discipline over his son. In all else, Sid had heeded Up’s counsel, but he had dismissed the admonishments regarding Eban. But, jarred by Up’s death, he stopped deceiving himself. His son didn’t possess a conscience.

Sid spoke slowly and deliberately. “The last piece of advice Up gave us was that you leave the country. I believe that was sound advice. In any case, it’s no longer your choice. I’m mandating it, Eban. I want you to go upstairs, pack, and leave. Today.”

Eban gaped at him and then began to laugh.

Sid shot out of his chair and squared off with him. “You find this amusing?”

“Well, it is kind of funny, because I’m way ahead of you, Dad. My bags are already packed. I’m headed to Belize later today. Cal and Theo are tagging along. We got together last night and decided it was time we had a getaway. It’s going to be just like old times.”

“Not quite. What about their probations?”

“That’s why we chose Belize.” He winked. “They’re lax about checking the passports of people flying in on private jets. I’ll send the two of them home in a few days. They’ll be back in the States before anybody in authority has missed them.”

“What about Cal’s missus?”

“She’s not invited.”

“I mean, how does she feel about his going on this getaway?”

He chortled. “She doesn’t get a vote. Of the three of us, Cal’s the most excited. If ever a guy needed a getaway… Oh, listen, I’ve booked the company jet. I hope that’s okay.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Six o’clock this evening. Theo insisted on finishing his shift at the library.” He rolled his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, damn. When is Uncle Up’s funeral?”

“It hasn’t been arranged yet, but I’ll make your excuses. You don’t need to come back for it.”

“Well, Up won’t miss me, that’s for sure.” He flashed a grin, but dropped it just as quickly. “Sorry. Gallows humor. Now, I’ll let you get back to your grieving. I’ve got a shitload of stuff to do before I leave.”

He was about to turn away when he hesitated and looked at Sid with pity. “I really am sorry about Up. Like losing your right arm, I’ll bet.” He turned, jogged across the terrace, and reentered the house.

Sid sat back down, and for several minutes stared thoughtfully into a concrete planter overflowing with ivy and white chrysanthemums, then took his phone from his pocket. He thumbed to a number in his contacts and placed the call.

The pilot he kept on retainer answered on the first ring. “Yes, sir, Mr. Clarke.”

“I was just checking to see if Eban had ordered catering for his flight to Belize this evening.”

The pilot chuckled. “Fried chicken and all the fixin’s.”

“Ah, good. He usually forgets to order until the last minute. And he does love fried chicken. Did he order enough for the two of them?”

“He told me there would be three passengers. Him and two friends. Did someone cancel?”

“Theo Simpson was questionable, but I guess he managed to get off work after all.” Checking up on Eban had felt sneaky, but Sid forgave himself for doing it. Eban had given him little reason to trust him.

The pilot was saying, “My copilot and I and the best flight attendant available will be expecting them at the FBO at five-thirty. We’ll be good to go at six.”

“Thank you. Have a safe flight.”

“Sure you won’t come along with them, Mr. Clarke?”

“No, unfortunately I’ll be attending the funeral of a good friend.”

Sid ended the call, but couldn’t work up the will to do more than that. He remained for the longest time, phone in hand, staring into the near distance and pondering how he—a man who had accumulated so much wealth—could feel this bankrupt.





Chapter 31





Kate had told Zach that the only play she had left was to approach Cal Parsons and Theo Simpson with an offer of clemency in exchange for their eyewitness testimony, this time for the prosecution.

So when he pointed out that the AG couldn’t hamstring him as he had her, he’d thought she would jump on the idea of his talking to the two men in her stead. He was mystified and frustrated by her reluctance to act on the suggestion.

“Why not?” he asked. “After reading Franklin’s suicide note, your boss backed down from his stand last night.”

“To a degree, yes, but he didn’t give me the green light to take up the case again. On the chance that he will at some point in the future, I don’t want to do anything now that might provoke him, like talking to Parsons and Simpson without first consulting him.”

“You wouldn’t be talking to them, I would. If you just happen to be along, what can he do?”

“Fire me.”

“He won’t. He’d be shooting himself in the foot. Firing an ambitious female prosecutor who’s seeking justice for a sex offender? Un-huh. Women’s rights groups would be all over that, and there go their votes come election day.”