“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t take the life savings of senior citizens,” Perry offered. “A little three-card monte, a few vari
ations on the shell game, but mostly I make my living hustlin’ cards and pool.”
“Perry’s a good friend, Tara. I’d trust him with my life,” Blake added simply.
She softened. “I’m not presuming to judge you, Perry. You’re here this evening to help us, and I appreciate that.”
“No offense taken, Miz Tara,” he assured her, stretching the syllables as far as they’d go.
Blake nodded and got down to business. “I told you a bit of our situation on the phone this afternoon,” he said to Perry.
Perry nodded. “Sounds like y’all’ve got yourself into a heap of trouble.”
Tara was beginning to wonder if Perry used that Southern accent like a disguise, hiding his real thoughts behind platitudes and clichés. She’d like to know how he and Blake had become such good friends.
Something told her there was an interesting story behind that meeting.
“What can you tell me that I don’t already know about Jack Willfort?” Blake asked Perry.
Perry shrugged. “Rumor has it that he’s planning a run for office during the next election.”
“I’ve heard that one.”
“Rumor has it that he’s going to play heavily on his rep as a solid family man, a rock of the community, a real straight arrow.”
“C’mon, man, I need something I don’t already know.”
“Rumor has it,” Perry murmured, stirring his coffee, “that he’s been bangin’ a rich, married society lady in Atlanta for more’n a few years.”
Blake’s left eyebrow shot upward. “Is that so?”
“Like I said, that’s the scoop.”
Blake’s eyes met Tara’s across the table.
“Liz Pryce?” she whispered.
Blake looked to Perry, who shrugged. “Don’t have any names, bud, just talk.”
“Any more where that came from?”
Perry cleared his throat. “Maybe.”
Grinning wryly, Blake slid something across the table to his friend, who picked it up and pocketed it without glancing at it “I’ve heard there’s a couple of paintings in his collection that shouldn’t ought to be there.”
“And where ought they to be?”
Perry shrugged. “Wherever someone might fence stolen paintings. They got a pawn shop for stuff like that?”
Blake glanced swiftly around them, then leaned closer to the other man. “Are you saying the paintings were never stolen?”
“Man, I’m only passin’ along some street talk. What you make of it is up to you.”
Perry drained his coffee cup and then pushed away from the table. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ve got an appointment this evening. Blake, it’s been good to see you again.”
The two men solemnly shook hands. And then Perry took Tara’s hand and lifted it once again to his lips. This time he lingered a bit longer over the gesture.
“Ma’am,” he said when he released her hand. “It’s been a real pleasure.”