“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”
“Mr. Ross was working for me.”
“You can’t get your money back.”
Mathers had insisted on being paid to be interviewed about his experiences related to the Corley Foundation. He and Lew Ross had agreed on three hundred dollars.
“I don’t want my money back, Mr. Mathers. I’m here to talk to you about what you told Mr. Ross.”
“I said everything I had to say. I got no more.”
“I just need to confirm a few things, hear it unfiltered, in your own words. You wouldn’t let Mr. Ross record you.”
“Nobody records me, you neither. Get your ass outta here.”
“I don’t want to record you. And I’ll pay. Again.”
Mathers chewed on his lower lip, from which curled shreds of dry skin. “This must be something bigger than I thought. So maybe I need like a thousand bucks.”
“It’s not that big. I’ll pay five hundred cash. Not a dime more.”
Mathers thought about it. He turned his head to look back at someone or something in the trailer. Maybe he had a girl in there. Maybe he was packaging drugs for resale.
“I don’t got all day,” he said. “You get like fifteen minutes for five hundred.”
Mathers stepped down the stacked railroad ties that served as stairs, pulling the door shut behind him.
He was about five feet ten, lean but solid. Red sneakers, faded jeans, and a T-shirt emblazoned with the word Resistance.
After counting out the five hundred dollars and giving it to Mathers, indicating the T-shirt, David said, “Resistance to what?”
“To everything. To the whole freakin’ world. To every shitty thing. You got a phone? Let me see your phone.”
David took his smartphone from a jacket pocket.
“You can record with that. Go put it in the car, and so I can see you do it.” He dropped onto one of the lawn chairs, in the shade of the trailer.
When David returned from the Porsche, a snub-nosed revolver lay on the makeshift table. His host must have drawn it from an ankle holster or from the small of his back.
“I’m not gonna mess with you,” Mathers said. “But I can’t see what’s really in your heart, can I? The gun is just insurance.”
Without comment, David used one hand to cast debris off the second chair.
Mathers issued a snort of derisive laughter. With one finger, he tapped his wristwatch. “Your fifteen minutes started, dude.”
Settling in the chair, David said, “This thing that happened—it was about a year and a half ago?”
“Labor Day weekend. I’d been watching the place on and off for like two weeks. No one ever seemed to be there.”
“We’re talking about the Corley Foundation, the house at the end of Rock Point Lane?”
“Yeah. I’d gone in close several times. Scoping it out, you know. Looking through windows, that kind of shit. There’s furniture and stuff, but I never see no one. No sign of an alarm system.”
“So you broke in on Labor Day.”
“Broke in? Hell, no. It was just a bad window.”
“Bad window?”
Mathers shrugged. “It broke itself. So I go in for a look around. I got a big curiosity. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“There’s food in the fridge, but the place don’t feel lived in. No dirty dishes. No laundry to be done. Nothing out of place. It’s like a furniture showroom set up neat to get you to buy shit.”
“Jewelry? Money?” When his host’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, David said, “I’m just curious. Like you, I have a big curiosity.”
“Some jewelry in a woman’s closet. Nothing special. No money anywhere. Not even a coin jar where like they collect pocket change. No safe.” Mathers’s brow pleated, his mouth tightened, and his face grew dark in the shade. He glanced at the revolver on the table, but he didn’t reach for it. “The place creeped me out, dude.”
“You told Lew Ross the house is—”
“I know what I told him,” Mathers interrupted. “He gave me a down-the-nose look I didn’t like. Nobody makes me out a fool.”
“And I have no intention of doing so.”
“And I have no intention of doing so,” Mathers quoted, mocking David’s diction. “You got too much damn school in you.”
“I agree. Half the time I spent in college was a waste.”
Mathers’ double-barreled stare sought some sign of sarcasm, but he evidently didn’t detect any. “I told the bitch I’m with, and she thought it was bullshit, you know, like I’m a little kid needs to make up stories. I got her mind right, quick enough.”