Mr. Clarinet

What about Eddie Faustin? What part did he play? He'd definitely been trying to kidnap the boy the day he was killed. That was beyond doubt. Faustin had been waiting for the kidnappers to come and get Charlie at a prearranged rendezvous, and then the mob had turned up and things had gone badly wrong.

Or had it?

Maybe Eddie had been set up, double-crossed by the kidnappers. It was possible. They'd paid the mob to start a riot around the car and kill him. It would make sense if the kidnappers wanted to avoid being identified—or suspected.

Yet Codada had said that Faustin was loyal to Gustav Carver, that he loved Carver like a father. Why would he betray Carver? What had the kidnappers offered him? Or maybe they hadn't offered him anything at all—maybe they had something on him. That wasn't hard—an ex-Macoute with bloody hands, now working for the head of a child sex ring.

How much had Faustin known about Gustav's business? Was the kidnapping related to it?

But that still left Charlie unaccounted for and unexplained.

What was there to go on?

He didn't know. He'd hit a dead end.

Where to now?

* * *

Half an hour later, Paul came out to join him in the street.

"She's given me the location of the place in La Gonâve. They've got about twenty kids in there now. They used a cargo boat to get them over there. Every month they filled the hold up with new kids," Paul said. "We'll be getting them out tomorrow evening."

"What about the military here?"

"It'll be a joint operation with the UN. I have a good friend there," Paul explained.

"What about Gustav?" Max asked.

"You bring him in."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Max. Tomorrow. I want to avoid casualties. If we go up to the Carver estate his people will start shooting. The Americans are stationed quite close by and they'll come to investigate. Knowing them, they'll kill all of us and tell Carver to have a nice day."

"He's got a lot of security."

"You'll have plenty of backup, if you need it. Our guys will follow you up to the estate and wait close by. You'll have radio contact with them."

"Assuming I get him out, where do I take him?"

"Get him out on the main road. We'll take him from there."

Max didn't want to do it. He'd never had to bring a client in.

"Make sure you tell Francesca so she's out of the way. Allain too."

"It's in hand," Vincent said and started heading back to the house.

"What about them—Codada and Eloise?" Max asked. "You gonna let them live?"

"Would you?"

Chapter 54

THE NEXT MORNING Max woke up with the phone ringing in his ears.

It was Joe. He was all apologies. He said he'd been too busy to work on the stuff Max had asked for.

Max told him he needed to talk to Clyde Beeson. Joe said that was the main reason he was calling.

Beeson had been found dead in his trailer. Forensics estimated he'd been there at least two weeks. His pit bull had eaten away one leg and was working on the second when the cops had broken down the door. Although the postmortem report had yet to confirm it, it looked like suicide. Beeson had opted out with his Magnum.

Max took the news quietly, bitterly disappointed that he hadn't had a chance to have a detailed talk with Beeson about the case that had ruined his life.

He wasn't surprised that Beeson had died bad. He'd had it coming. He'd scored impressive results and made a small fortune off the back of them, but he'd pissed off a lot of people along the way; Max had been one of them, Joe another. He'd come within a hair of ruining their lives. They'd come within a hair of killing him.

Max had loathed and despised him.

"Anything you want to say about the late Clyde Beeson?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Adiós, motherfucker."

Chapter 55

GUSTAV CARVER SMILED warmly when he saw Max walk into the living room, his great gargoyle face turning into something straight out of a horror cartoon as it registered, processed, and displayed his pleasure: his eyebrows creased into upward arrowheads, his brow furrowed disjointedly like the spring bands on a collapsed chest expander, and his lips thinned to pale pink rubber bands as they stretched and curved toward his earlobes.

"Max! Welcome!" Gustav shouted to Max across the empty space.

They shook hands when they met. Carver overapplied his grip and accidentally pulled Max forward into him. They bumped shoulders, awkwardly, jock-style by default, neither knowing the drill. Carver, who had been using his other hand to balance himself on his silver-topped black cane, staggered back and threatened to keel over on his back but Max grabbed hold and steadied him. Gustav righted himself with Max's help, took in the remains of the minor panic in Max's expression, and giggled almost coquettishly. He smelled strongly of booze, cigarettes, and musky cologne.