“You’re not serious.”
“Why not? An all-expenses-paid week at a fancy resort in the mountains.”
“No.”
“Come on, Carla. We haven’t had a real vacation in years.”
“We’ve never had a real vacation, like, you know, getting on a plane and flying off somewhere.”
“Exactly. This is the chance of a lifetime.”
“No.”
“Why not? The guy needs help. He wants to come home and, I don’t know, maybe make things right with his family. There’s no harm in going down and meeting with him. Mack’s a nice guy.”
“He has two daughters that he left behind.”
“He did, and that’s terrible. But maybe he wants to make amends. Let’s give the guy a break.”
“Is he a fugitive?”
“I’m not sure. I’m meeting with Harry Rex at eight and I have some questions. The rumor was that Mack took a bunch of money and left town, but I don’t recall hearing about an indictment or anything like that. He filed for bankruptcy and divorce and vanished. Most of the lawyers in town were envious. Not me, of course.”
“Of course not. I remember all the gossip. The town talked of nothing else for months.”
Jake slid across the brochure and she took it.
（7）
The Riviera was a small 1950s-style motel at the edge of town. It had two wings of tiny rooms, some rumored to be available by the hour, and a dingy bar where lawyers and bankers and businessmen hid to discuss things that could not be overheard. Jake hadn’t been there in years and got a few looks as he walked in. He smiled at the bartender, ordered two draft beers, and took them to a table near the jukebox. He sipped one for fifteen minutes as he waited. Harry Rex was always late, especially for drinks. Getting him to the bar, though, was the easy part. Getting him out of one was usually a challenge. Things were not going well with his third wife and he preferred to stay away from home.
He lumbered in at 8:20 and spoke to three gentlemen at a table as he passed by. At times, it seemed as though he knew everyone.
He fell into a chair across from Jake, grabbed his mug, and drained half of it. Jake knew it wasn’t his first beer of the evening. He kept a fridge filled with Bud Light in his office and popped a top each evening after the last client left.
“Poachin’ my clients again, huh?” he said.
“Hardly. I doubt if Mack’s looking for a new lawyer.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“He left town, what, three years ago? Any word from him since then?”
“Not a peep. Nothing. The last time I spoke to Mack he was in my office lookin’ at the divorce papers. Gave her everything, includin’ fifty thousand in cash. That’s in the settlement. Nash was her lawyer, told me later that they’d never had fifty thousand in cash, nowhere close to that. He talked to Freda, his old secretary, and she had no idea where the money came from. Said they could barely pay the bills most months.”
“So, where did the money come from?”
“Slow down.” Another gulp. “This beer’s hot. How long’s it been sittin’ here?”
“Well, I bought it when I arrived promptly at eight, the agreed-upon hour. So, yes, it’s not as cold as it was.”
Harry Rex unfolded himself, walked to the bar, and ordered two more drafts. He set them on the table and said, “So, he’s contacted you?”
“Yep.” Jake told the story about Gene and Kathy Roupp and their surprise visit earlier in the day. He handed over the letter and Harry Rex read it slowly. He paused and said, “You know Lisa’s got breast cancer. Nash told me months ago.”
“Yes.”
Jake rarely bothered to chase gossip. He had Harry Rex to rely on.
He finished reading and took a drink. “Wonder why he didn’t offer me a nice vacation.”
“Could be the airplane thing.”
“That, plus I can’t imagine goin’ anywhere with Millie for a week. You takin’ the deal?”
“Carla says no, but she’ll come around. There’s no harm, right?”
“I don’t see a problem. He ain’t exactly a fugitive.”
“But I recall something about the grand jury poking around.”
“That’s right. I thought things might get hairy when the DA was askin’ questions. Hell, even the FBI stopped by to see me a couple of times.”
“You never told me that.”
“Jake, my friend, there are a lot of things you don’t know.”