On the other end, Rolvaag heard what sounded like the soft pop of a bottle being opened. The detective felt a sudden craving for a cold Foster's.
Corbett Wheeler said, "It looks like my late little sister needs someone to see after her interests. And, by the way, the real will doesn't leave me anything, either-in case you're wondering about my motive."
The detective assured Joey's brother that he wasn't. "When will you be arriving?" he asked.
"Day after tomorrow. The service is next Thursday."
Again Rolvaag was caught off guard. "What service?"
"The one I'm arranging in memory of Joey," Corbett Wheeler replied with a muffled burp. "Can you recommend a nice church, Karl? Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist-doesn't really matter, as long as there's room for a choir."
As Red Hammernut listened to Chaz Perrone's story, he thought of the many blessings that had come his way, but also of the toil. A big farming operation like his was a challenging enterprise, relying as it did on rampant pollution and the systematic mistreatment of immigrant labor. For Red it was no small feat to keep the feds off his back while at the same time soaking taxpayers for lucrative crop subsidies and dirt-cheap loans that might or might not be repaid this cen-
tury. He reflected upon the hundreds of thousands of dollars that he'd handed out as campaign donations; the untallied thousands more for straight-up bribes, hookers, private-yacht charters, gambling stakes and other discreet favors; and, finally, the countless hours of ass-kissing he'd been forced to endure with the same knucklehead politicians whose loyalties he had purchased.
This was no easy gig. Red Hammernut got infuriated every time he heard some pissy liberal refer to the federal farm bill as corporate welfare. The term implied contented idleness, and nobody worked harder than Red to keep the money flowing and to stay out of trouble. Now the whole goddamn shebang was in danger of falling apart because of one man.
"Pay him. That's my advice," Chaz Perrone said in cocksure summary. "I know it's a shitload of money, but what else can we do?"
They were sitting in Red Hammernut's office, overlooking the toxic though tranquil pond. Chaz and Tool had driven straight from Flamingo to LaBelle, arriving at four in the morning and nodding off like junkies in the parking lot. Chaz's nostrils were blood-encrusted and his face was pocked extravagantly with crimson insect bites. Red Hammernut couldn't help but stare. The man looked like a photo out of an exotic medical textbook.
"He's got us by the short and curlies," Chaz was saying of the blackmailer. "I don't see where there's any other choice but to pay him."
Red Hammernut said there was never only one choice, regardless of the problem. "But lemme see if I understand the situation, 'cause you tore through it pretty fast. What about the cop? The one you thought was breakin' into your house and talkin' like Moses on the telephone?"
"I was wrong. It's not him," Chaz said shortly. "He's not mixed up in this."
"Which is at least one piece a semi-good news, right?"
"Except he found out from the dealership about you buying me the Hummer."
"Well, hell," Red Hammernut said.
"So I told him you were friends with Joey and you did it as a favor to her-got me the Hummer for my birthday. And then she paid you back."
"That's the best you could do? Sweet Jesus." Red Hammernut turned to look at Tool, whose head was lolling. "You all right?"
"Just real tarred."
"Then go lie down."
"Yessir, that's an idea." Tool kicked the chair away and curled up like a bloated bear on the carpet in front of the desk. Red Hammernut shook his head.
Chaz said, "So if the detective asks you about the Hummer-"
"Don't worry, son, I'll give'm the same story you did," Red Hammernut said. "Now let's talk about this blackmail business. The sumbitch wants half a million bucks, and for some reason you think I'm the one ought to pay."
"Red, I don't have that kind of money."
"My question is, What's he gonna do if you don't pay? Worst case? Tell the cops he saw you push poor Joey overboard."
Chaz bleated, "Isn't that enough?"
"First, he's gotta prove he was on board that ship."
"Don't worry. He was."
"Then it's his word against yours." Red Hammernut thinking how the media would go wild once the accusation became public. So far, Chaz had demonstrated no capacity for steadiness under pressure, and Red Hammernut doubted that his composure would improve once he was named a murder suspect. If Chaz had in fact killed his wife, he might come unspooled under tough questioning by the cops. That could prove catastrophic for Hammernut Farms, and even more so for Red personally.
"This asshole knows everything," Chaz was saying.
Red Hammernut clicked his teeth. "Yeah, I heard you the first time."
"Knows about the Hummer, the phosphorus tests-don't ask me how, but he put it all together."
"Bad luck," Red Hammernut said.
It was his own damn fault for buying that Hi; he'd done it only because he was sick of hearing Chaz whine about needing a four-wheel drive. The way Red figured it, the blackmailer probably hired a private eye to do a paper check on Chaz, which led him to the Hummer's bill of sale. Once Red's name popped up, it wouldn't take fucking Matlock to make the connection between the farm and the biologist who was testing its waters for pollution.
"It's a tur'ble fix, I give you that," Red Hammernut said to Chaz. "But half a million big ones ain't a very appetizin' option."
"But Joey left me zippo, Red. All I've got is what's in the bank."
Red Hammernut calculated that he'd slipped Chaz twenty to thirty grand in cash over the years, most of which had probably been pissed away on greens fees and lap dances.
"Relax, boys. Let's put on our thinkin' caps."
Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, Red pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's and poured three glasses. Tool slurped his from a supine position.
"So, how long till he wants an answer?" Red Hammernut asked.
"He said he'd call Monday morning," Chaz said.
"And he ain't alone in this deal, right? You said there's a girlfriend."
Tool spoke up from the floor. "Name of Anna somethin' or other. She don't know much."
"Good," Red Hammernut said, though he had marginal confidence in Tool's assessment. "She wasn't totally scared to pieces of you?"
Tool grunted. "Didn't appear to be."
"Don't you think that's strange?"
"Chief, I give up tryin' to figger out women a long time ago."
"Amen," said Chaz Perrone.
"Well, let's assume the girlfriend knows what the blackmailer knows," Red Hammernut said, "and proceed from there. Who's ready for another belt?"
Tool raised his glass for a refill. "When can I go home, Red?"
"Soon as this mess is over. Won't be long, I promise."
"I miss my yard. All them pretty white crosses."
"Just hang in there, son," Red Hammernut said. "You're doin' a world-class job."
Chaz Perrone cleared his throat. "To be honest, Red, there's room for improvement. No offense, but it needs to be said."
Red Hammernut hoped Chaz would have more sense than to complain about Tool in Tool's presence, but he was wrong.
"Take last night," Chaz pressed on. "I end up all alone with that psycho blackmailer in the middle of the frigging Everglades. In a canoe."
"You're alive, ain't ya?" Tool said.
Red Hammernut couldn't see over the edge of the desk, but it sounded like Tool was scratching himself.
"Yeah, I'm alive. No thanks to you," Chaz snapped. Then, appeal-
ing to Red: "The bastard hit me over the head with a paddle. And look what he did to my nose!"