The Quiet Game

"You bet." Kelly takes the phone and dials the number, watching me in the mirror. "Hello, I'm calling for Noble… It is? This is Sergeant Kelly, Noble. Daniel Kelly… You don't recognize my voice? From Bragg?… Fort Bragg. I'm trying to track down some members of our old unit… You're kidding me, right?… Never been in the service? You're shining me, man. Well, Noble always said he was going to get out of Mississippi as soon as he could… Yeah? How old are you?… Well, that's the right age. What you do for a living?… Ha. Noble sure didn't know nothing about engines. You married?… No kidding. Man, I'm sorry I bothered you. My mistake all the way. You have a good Sunday, chief."

Kelly hangs up, and the bartender puts the phone back in front of the mirror.

"Noble Jackson works as a mechanic for Goodyear. He's thirty-eight years old, married with four kids, and he's lived in Natchez his whole life. He sounds happier about it than a lot of people would be."

This knowledge, mundane as it sounds, somehow eases my grief over Ruby. "Kelly, you're a funny guy."

His eyes twinkle. "That has been said."

He looks past me, and I hear the restaurant door open behind me. His expression tells me that whoever came in is a woman, an attractive one. I find myself hoping it's Caitlin.

"Female inbound on your six," he says. "You know her?"

I rotate my stool and watch a tanned brunette walk toward me. It's Jenny, the waitress. She's wearing black jeans and a T-shirt that says lilith fair. Her dark hair is swept back from her neck, and her large brown eyes are shining. She gives me a shy wave as she reaches us.

"Jenny, this is Daniel Kelly."

She smiles and shakes Kelly's hand, then looks back at me. "I'm surprised to see you here. Isn't the funeral today?"

"We just came from there."

"Oh. Um, could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure."

She looks furtively at Kelly. "Alone, I mean?"

Kelly starts to slide off his stool, but Jenny takes his arm and holds him there. "I didn't mean for you to leave."

"How about one of those booths?" I suggest.

"Well… I was hoping you'd come upstairs. To my apartment. Just for a minute."

My mental alarm is ringing now, soft but steady. Even modest fame can attract some strange people and propositions, and legal complications often follow. Caitlin pegged Jenny as having a fixation on me the first time she saw her. Maybe she's right.

"It's practically deserted in here," I say. "Let's just grab a booth."

Jenny suddenly looks on the verge of tears. "It's nothing weird, I promise. It's… personal. It has to do with what you're working on. Your case."

Curiosity muffles the alarm in my head. "The Payton case? What do you know about that?"

She glances at the bartender, who's totaling numbers on a calculator a few feet away. "It has to do with the Marston family."

I'm convinced. "Okay. Upstairs it is. Have another on me, Kelly."

"Glad to, boss. Keep your pants on."

Jenny leads me to the rear of the restaurant, where a spiral staircase winds up to the second floor. We pass some long tables set up for a party, then climb a short flight of stairs to a small landing and a red door. Jenny takes a key from her pocket, opens the door, and waits for me to go through.

Her apartment is as spartan as the cell of a lifer. You could bounce a quarter off the bed, and the linens are surprisingly masculine. A tall set of shelves stands against the wall to my right, and it's filled from top to bottom with books. Literary novels mostly, though the familiar spines of my books are among them, along with Martin Cruz Smith, Donna Tartt, and Peter Hoeg. There's no television, but a boom box sits beside the bed, an Indigo Girls concert flyer tacked to the wall above it. Caitlin's suspicion that Jenny has a crush on me is looking less accurate by the second.

With careful steps Jenny crosses the room to the far corner, where a microwave oven and coffeemaker stand on a table beside a lavatory. She pours water from a Kentwood bottle into the coffee carafe, then from the carafe to the coffeemaker. Her back is to me, but she appears to be concentrating on her movements.

"Is green tea okay?" she asks.

"It's fine."

A spoon jangles loudly in a cup. Jenny's hands are shaking.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods quickly, still facing away from me. "Just nervous."

"How do you know the Marston family? Are you originally from Natchez?"

"No." She turns and faces me, revealing the anxiety in her eyes. I have a sudden intuition that she's about to tell me Leo Marston forced her to commit some sexual act, or perhaps got her pregnant. She's far too young for him, but if an impoverished killer like Ray Presley can rob the cradle, why can't Leo Marston?

"But you know the Marstons," I press her.

"I know Olivia."

Olivia. "Does Livy have something to do with the Payton case?"

"I don't know."

"Jenny, why don't you just tell me what you know? Start at the beginning, and let me decide how important it is."

She shakes her head. "You've got the wrong idea. I mean-I misled you a little. This isn't about your case."