The Little Death (10 page)

“So, where did he get the watch?” Louis asked.

Reggie closed his eyes.

“Mr. Kent,” Louis pressed. “You have to tell us.”

“I kept asking him,” Reggie said softly. “Finally, he just exploded and said that he was—pardon my language, these are his words, not mine—that he was ‘fucking some of hottest bitches on the island’ and making more money than he ever thought possible. He said one of them gave him the watch.”

“He swung back to the ladies?” Louis asked.

“Not just any ladies,” Reggie said sharply. “My ladies. My friends.”

Louis sat back in the chair. “You sound angry.”

“I am angry!”

“Why, because he betrayed you?”

Reggie wrenched off his sunglasses. “He betrayed the profession! Don’t you get that?”

Louis just stared at him.

Reggie suddenly rose. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” And he disappeared into the house.

Louis heard the tinkle of ice and looked over at Mel. “What the hell is his problem?” Louis said.

“He’s angry,” Mel said, and took a sip of the lemonade.

“I’d say that’s a pretty good motive,” Louis said. “Durand led him on.”

Mel slowly set the tumbler down and sat forward, resting his long hands on his knees. “Forget about the personal shit for a moment,” he said. “Reggie took this guy under his wing and trained him in a profession. Now, we might think it’s a pretty weird profession, but to Reggie it’s a noble calling. And it wasn’t supposed to include sex.”

Louis shook his head.

“Think of it this way,” Mel went on. “How would you feel if you were a cop—”

“I was a cop once, Mel.”

“I know, I know. Okay, you’re a cop, and you have to train a rookie. But the rookie disregards the rules, screws up protocol, has no respect for the badge, and is generally an asshole. How would you feel?”

“It’s not the same thing, Mel.”

“It is to Reggie.”

At that moment, Reggie reappeared. His face was red, like he had scrubbed it hard. He had a fresh tumbler
of lemonade. He sat down in his chair, spotted his sunglasses on the patio floor, and scooped them up. He put them on and tilted his chin up toward Louis.

“What else do you need to know?” he said calmly.

“The police report said you and Durand got physical outside the restaurant,” Louis said. “What happened exactly? And don’t leave out any details.”

Reggie drew in deep breath. “I told Mark I didn’t care what he did to me, but I was not going to let him get away with trashing my reputation. He told me to go fuck myself and left. I followed him out.”

“And what happened?”

Reggie was silent.

“What did you say to him, Mr. Kent?” Louis asked.

“I wish you’d call me Reggie.”

“What did you say to him?”

Reggie glanced at Mel before he spoke. “I told him that all I had to do was whisper in the right ear, and he’d be dead in this town.”

“Dead?”

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Reggie said. “I meant that he would be a pariah. No more lunches, parties, or pretty watches. I told him that with one word from me, he would be escorted off the island and dropped off at the nearest Greyhound station.”

“Why did the cops come?” Mel asked.

Reggie looked miserable. “We argued, and he pushed me. So I pushed him back. I didn’t mean it, but I was so angry. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he was so drunk he just fell. He hit his hand on the sidewalk and broke the watch’s crystal. He lost it, just lost it, screaming at me about the watch and calling me ugly names.”

Louis remembered a detail from the police report. “There were people seated outside who heard you.”

“I suppose,” Reggie muttered. “And then the police came.”

“What did they do?” Louis asked.

Reggie shrugged. “They just told us to behave ourselves, and they left.”

“What happened to Durand?”

“I don’t know,” Reggie said. “The last I saw him, he was walking up Royal Poinciana.”

Louis glanced at Mel, who was spreading caviar on the last toast point. He wondered if Mel was thinking the same thing he was—that when Detective Barberry heard this whole story, he would be even more convinced of Kent’s guilt. If that was possible.

“We’re going to need the names of these women Durand was with,” Louis said.

“I don’t know who they are,” Reggie said. He gave an indignant tip of his chin. “Ironically, I would have been the first to know this sort of thing before. Gossip is currency in this town. But now—”

Before Louis could reply, a delicate ringing drifted from the house. Reggie perked up like an English pointer, then pushed his chair back.

“My phone,” Reggie said. “It hasn’t rung in days. Please excuse me.”

Louis watched Reggie until he disappeared, then leaned over toward Mel. Mel’s face was turned toward the salted breeze, his eyes closed.

“Mel, your friend is in deep shit here.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“The level of rage in this crime points to someone the
victim knew,” Louis said. “Give me another theory that jibes with that kind of senseless torture.”

“A hate crime. Maybe Durand was still cruising the bars across the bridge.”

“Good news!”

Louis looked up. Reggie was walking toward them holding a white cordless phone. “That was Margery,” Reggie said, smiling broadly. “She wants me to take her to the ballet tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh, dear, I have to get to the cleaner’s. My best tux is in there.”

Louis stood up. “Look, Mr. Kent, I think it might be better if you laid low for a while.”

“You don’t understand,” Reggie said. “This is Margery Leigh Cooper Laroche. You don’t say no to Margery. She’s one of the core people.”

“Core people?” Mel said.

Reggie’s face was lit with excitement. “I knew they’d rally around. I knew they’d help me. Margery must have put in a word. The dear, dear lady…”

“Reg, I think Louis is right,” Mel said. “I don’t think you should be going out right now.”

Reggie ignored him, gathering up the plates and silverware. “I know this is very rude, and I know we have things to talk about, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have a million things to do.”

He stopped suddenly, turning to Mel.

“Wait, wait!” he said. “I just had the best idea. Do you have a tux?”

“What?” Mel croaked.

“A tux, do you—?” Reggie frowned slightly. “No, no, of course you don’t. What am I thinking.” He set the
plates down. “We’ll have to find a rental. Horrifying, I know, but I think there’s a place—”

“Reggie, what the hell are you talking about?” Mel asked.

Reggie stared at them. “Well, you’re coming to the ballet with me, of course.”

Louis laughed.

“And you,” Reggie said. “You have to come, too.”

“Get serious.” Louis was still laughing.

Reggie’s expression had gone slack. “I’m quite serious,” he said. “As you keep telling me, my life is at stake here. If anyone knows the women Mark was sleeping with, Margery does. And if you’re ever going to get any doors to open for you in this town, Margery is the key.” He paused. “Now, do you want to meet her or not?”

Louis looked back at Mel, who had taken out the Zippo and was lighting up one of Reggie’s Gauloises.

“Looks like we’re going to the ballet, Rocky,” he said.

Chapter Eight
 

Louis thought it was damned ironic that they had to go to West Palm Beach to rent tuxedos. But as Reggie pointed out, every man who lived on the island owned his own formal wear.

“Renting a tux is like…” Reggie curled his lip. “It’s like wearing bowling shoes. You don’t know who has done what in them before you.”

They were in Reggie’s living room, sharing a quick
glass of wine before they left for the ballet. Mel was sitting down, one patent-leather shoe propped on a knee, long arm draped over the back of the sofa. He looked like the rented tux had been custom-made for him.

Louis turned and caught sight of himself in a mirror. He, on the other hand, looked like he was going to a prom.

He felt Reggie staring at him.

“What?” Louis snapped.

“That tie. You can’t go out wearing that tie.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t they have one that wasn’t a hook kind?”

“What do you mean?”

“One that ties, like the kind Mel has on.”

Louis looked at Mel, who just shrugged.

“You said it had to be black. This was the only black one they had left,” Louis said through gritted teeth.

Reggie sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into a bedroom. Louis looked at Mel. “You start up again, and I will deck you, I swear.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” Mel said. “I think you look swell.”

Reggie returned with a tie. “Here, but make sure I get it back.”

Louis took it but didn’t move. The tie dangled like a dead snake in his hand.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to tie a bow tie,” Reggie said.

“No, I don’t know how to tie a fucking bow tie.”

Reggie snatched the tie from Louis. Before Louis could react, Reggie reached up, unhooked the rental tie, and flung it to the sofa. He wrapped the black silk
around Louis’s neck and started to fumble with the ends.

Louis raised his chin, his eyes going to the ceiling. The starched collar of the shirt was digging into his neck. Reggie’s wine breath was warm on his face.

“Stop fidgeting,” Reggie said.

“Just tie the damn thing,” Louis muttered.

Finally, Reggie threw up his hands. “I’ve never done this from this side before!” He looked at Mel.

“You’re on your own, boys,” Mel said.

Reggie grabbed Louis’s shoulders and spun him around so he was facing the mirror. Then Reggie lined up behind him, and his hands came up around Louis’s neck from the back.

“Hey!” Louis said.

“Hold still! This is the only way I can do this!”

Louis shut his eyes, steeling himself against the soft touch of Reggie’s hands on his neck. Finally, he felt Reggie back away.

Louis opened his eyes. He didn’t think the tie looked any different from the other one, and it was crooked. But he was damned if he was going to give Reggie a second chance.

Mel was laughing.

“Let’s go,” Louis muttered.

He got his revenge when they went outside. Reggie stopped cold in the driveway when he saw the Mustang.

“That’s your car?” he said.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “And it’s not a rental, so I know exactly who has done what in it.”

Louis opened the door, flipped the passenger seat forward,
and gestured to the backseat. “Mel rides shotgun. You get the back.”

But Reggie’s eyes were focused on something over Louis’s shoulder. And he was smiling. Louis turned just as a black Rolls pulled into the driveway. The car was so quiet Louis hadn’t heard it coming.

A stout guy in a dark suit and cap got out and opened the back door.

Louis was amazed to see tears brim in Reggie’s eyes. “She sent the car,” he whispered. “The dear thing sent the car.”

He wiped at his eyes and turned to Louis and Mel. “We’d better go before it turns into a pumpkin.”

The Royal Poinciana Playhouse was a small jewel box of a theater with red velvet flocked wallpaper, gold sconces, and a view of the Intracoastal Waterway from its terrace. As soon as they got inside, Reggie told them he had to meet Margery Cooper Laroche at the private party for the ballet patrons. He apologized that he couldn’t take them along but stuffed two tickets in Mel’s hand and pointed them to the lobby bar before he disappeared.

They got some wine and found their way to the terrace. It was crowded with men in tuxedos and women in gowns. The temperature had taken a dip into the sixties, giving the women an excuse to drag their furs out of storage. Diamonds glinted in the mink like animal eyes in headlights. The air smelled of expensive perfume and a coming rain.

Mel took one of the tickets from his pocket and peered at it. “I can’t read this,” he said, handing it to Louis. “What’s on the bill?”

Louis took the ticket.
“Swan Lake.”

Mel grimaced. “Going to be a long night.”

“You’ve seen this before?”

“Sure,” Mel said. “Great love story. The dashing young prince Siegfried is seduced away from his true love, the white swan Odette, by the evil black swan Odile.”

Louis took a drink. “How’s it end?”

“He’s eaten up with guilt, so he throws himself in the lake and drowns.”

Louis finished the wine in one gulp and looked out over the water. For a second, he thought about telling Mel about Sam. A part of him felt bad because she was married. But that wasn’t what was really bothering him. It was the fact that with one act of sex with a stranger, he was admitting it was over with Joe. She had been the one who opened the door to the possibility. But last night, he had been the one who shut it.

Mel was his friend. He wanted to talk to him, but he couldn’t, because Mel and Joe had once had their own relationship, and he wasn’t sure whose side Mel would take.

“Speaking of swans,” Mel said. “He’s going to be a problem, you know.”

Louis turned back, glad for something to take his mind off Joe. “He’s just a guard dog.”

“Yeah, but he’s like that cockroach dog that tried to take me out yesterday. It may be small, but you don’t want to get between it and its master.”