The Guilty (Will Robie 4)

of everything I said during our last call. Now it seems that you have been made by the people from the casino and they will undoubtedly seek payback.”

“I’m prepared for that.”

“And if they go after Victoria? Or her son?”

“I said I was prepared for that.”

“Saying it and it actually being so is not the same thing.”

“Why is Wurtzburger down here? I’d assumed it was for the folks at the Rebel Yell and whatever it is they’re involved in that makes more money than gambling.”

“I don’t know and didn’t ask. I was only focused on the Agency’s side of the equation, meaning you. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, if I were you, I would achieve some clarity on that point. And do it sooner rather than later, Robie. That is my best, and last, advice to you on the subject.”

This time Blue Man was the one who clicked off, leaving Robie to stare down at his phone and wonder if he was making a colossal mistake. That was as close to showing anger as Blue Man was likely ever to come. And it had shaken Robie more than a dozen people screaming at him.

He contemplated his next move and then made up his mind.

He bought a six-pack of beer and headed to Billy Faulconer’s house.

* * *

“Damn, that tastes good.”

Billy had just finished chugging one of the beers and then crushed it against his forehead.

Or tried to. The big man didn’t have the strength to finish the job. He let the partially crumpled can fall to the floor.

Robie sat across from him sipping on his beer. He looked around the Airstream. It seemed that Angie had come and cleaned up quite a bit. The dirty dishes were gone, the floor and counters were free of litter, and the place smelled of bleach and air freshener.

Billy popped another can.

“Shouldn’t you go slow on that?” asked Robie. “It might mess up your meds.”

Billy looked at him in surprise. “Ain’t on no meds, less you count the oxygen.”

“Isn’t the pain bad?”

Billy held up the beer and smiled weakly. “That’s what this here is for.”

He took a long drink and then rested the can against his chest. “How’re things goin’ with you?”

“Okay. Did you hear the Clancys’ house burned down?”

“Little Bill done told me. Ain’t had a fire like that for years and years. Lotta house to burn. Pete okay?”

Robie shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t seen him. By the way, my father pled not guilty. And he has a lawyer now. Toni Moses.”

“Hear she’s real good. And damn expensive.”

“Well, when you’re fighting for your life, what’s money?” As soon as Robie said it, he regretted his choice of words.

“Guess you right ’bout that.” Billy sank back on the couch and his breathing got a little heavier. “Fightin’ for your life,” he said in a low voice. “Only I’m past fightin’, right? Hell, done is done.” He tried to laugh but it died in his throat.

“What’s the name of your doctor again?”

“Huh, oh, Doc Holloway.”

“Where’s his office?”

Billy stared at him. “Why, you sick?”

“Got a thing on my arm I want him to look at.”

“Oh yeah, he’s real good. He’s on Wright Street. Near the Gulf Coast Diner. You ’member that place? Dollar pitchers and all the shrimp you could eat.”

“I remember. How many times did we get thrown out of there for eating too much?”

“At least five times. But they kept lettin’ us back in.”

“Because we kept winning ball games. The assholes.”

Billy laughed so hard he started choking. Robie rose quickly and got him breathing properly and settled again.

“So you got a problem with your arm?” wheezed Billy.

Robie nodded. “Nothing major. Just getting old.”

“Sounds like a good deal, gettin’ old,” muttered Billy. Then he finished the second beer in one gulp.

* * *

Robie left Billy’s an hour later and headed to see Doc Holloway.

He was in his fifties, slightly built, with a crown of graying hair and a bushy mustache. His blue eyes were capped by a pair of wild eyebrows.

Holloway had not been in Cantrell when Robie lived here, but he knew Robie’s father, he told him.

Robie had him examine his arm. Holloway looked over the burn and scar tissue and said, “You’re going to need surgery on this.”

“Know a good one?”

“Not in Cantrell. You’ll need to go over to Biloxi. I can give you a referral. How’d you come by that anyway? That’s a right bad burn.”

“Got too close to a fire.”

Holloway gave him a condescending look. “Well, I figured something like that.”

“I’ve been to see Billy Faulconer. Pretty sad to see him like that.”

Holloway took off his glasses and cleaned them with a paper towel.

“Well, people’s choices do have an impact on their health.”

“So lung cancer then? From smoking?”

“I can’t talk to you about that. Patient privacy.”

“Right, only Billy told me it was lung cancer.”

“Well, if he did I can’t dispute it, but I also can’t talk about it.”

“I guess if he had come in earlier, gotten an X-ray, PET and bone scan, CT scan, and had a biopsy done, you might have caught it. But I suppose it showed up on all those tests confirmed as lung cancer?”

Holloway wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Here are the referrals for surgeons in Biloxi. For now keep it clean and don’t exert yourself. Looks like you partially tore some of the scar tissue already.”

Robie took the paper. “Right, thanks.”

He walked out thinking Holloway was either just following the rules in not discussing Billy’s case, or he hadn’t done the tests he was supposed to have done to confirm the man actually had terminal lung cancer.

Only Robie wasn’t sure what he could do about it.

He drove back to the Willows.

Victoria’s Volvo was there. She must have finished her visit at the jail. He walked inside and looked around. Priscilla came out from the kitchen rubbing her hands on a towel.

“You should keep the front door locked,” said Robie.

“Since when? Ain’t nobody in Cantrell lock their doors. ’Specially durin’ the day. What if you got company comin’?”

“Then they can knock and you can come and unlock the door.”

“I’ll have to ask Ms. Victoria ’bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her about it. Where is she?”

“In her room.”

He climbed the stairs and knocked on Victoria’s bedroom door.

“Who is it? Priscilla?”

“It’s Will.”

“Oh, come on in.”

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Victoria was lying on the bed, her shoes on the floor next to her. She sat up a bit on a pillow. Her face was puffy with sleep.