I jump at the sound of the door knocking downstairs, still on edge from all that’s happened to me over the past day.
One of my father’s parishioners?
I guess I could just ignore them, but it seems rude. So even though I’m not sure what I’m going to say, I head downstairs and unlock the door, pulling it open and then falling still.
“Brian?”
“How are you doing, Malta? I heard what happened to your dad. Mind if I come in?”
He seems friendly enough, but there’s something off. For starters, Brian Hatcher has hardly been what I’d call a friend since I started working at the courthouse. A fellow lawyer, I’ve passed him in the hallway a few times and we know each other by name, but we haven’t worked on the same cases and we don’t share the same friendship groups.
Plus, Rebecca said she doesn’t trust him. That she gets the creeps every time he’s around. Not like he’s going to do something to her, but like there’s a lot of weakness there. Over the years I’ve learned to trust her instincts.
And then there’s the fact that there’s a little sweat on his brow. A shiftiness to his eyes, like he’s scanning for threats or he’s worried what someone might think.
“What’s this about?” I ask, trying to stall. I lean on the door, pulling it closed around me so I can slam it if I need to, even though I’m still not certain what I’m worried about.
“Just concerned for your…wellbeing,” he says, as if the word isn’t quite the right fit. “Really, it would be easier if I came in.”
“I’m kind of busy, Brian. I’ve got work, I’ve got to pack a few things for my dad. Perhaps some other—”
“Look, Malta…” He lowers his voice, leaning in a little too far so that I can smell the peppermint on his breath. “I don’t want to be here either, but we have some mutual friends. This isn’t something we can discuss on the doorstep, so are you going to invite me in or do I have to walk away? Trust me, walking away is the worse option for both of us.”
Mutual friends? What does that mean? Is he talking about Dan at the gambling place? If that’s the case, why didn’t Dan mention that he already had someone at the courthouse on his payroll?
I look around outside, but see only one car, parked up at the curb. A brand new shiny Lexus, presumably Brian’s car.
“You’d better come in,” I say finally, stepping back and holding the door open for him, and he doesn’t waste a second moving past me. “What’s this about?” I ask again as I close the door and turn to stare at him.
Brian doesn’t answer at first, wandering through to the living room but keeping his coat on.
“Nice place,” he says, and it would sound conversational if not for the hitch to his words, the way they sound reflexive, like he’s just going through the motions. “My place is nicer. No, I don’t mean… What I mean is, there’s money out there to be made, Malta.”
He turns and stares at me. He doesn’t sit down. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a brown envelope.
“What’s that?” I ask, staying too far away from him to take it.
“A down payment. I was told to deliver it to you.”
“By who?”
He frowns. “The people who own the place you visited last night. I’ve been working for them for a year and the pay is good. You think I can afford that car out there and a house in Sherwood Forest on a public defender’s salary?”
“I told Dan no. I meant it. Please get out.”
“I don’t know who Dan is. I was just told to…” He pauses, searching for words, then gulps back like he’s nervous as he sidesteps to the window, looking out like he might see something interesting instead of the quietest street in Detroit. “It’s the higher-ups you’d be working for, Malta,” he says as he turns around, holding the envelope a little closer to himself now. “Not some lackey. They keep their word. They protect you from any risk. Please, just take the money.”
That last sentence was the most believable thing he’s said. He really does want me to take the money from him. But why? I don’t understand. There’s something I’m not seeing. Why is he so desperate, why does he seem…
Frightened?
The word pops into my head but it makes sense. The way he’s acting, the sweat, the nervous words. Brian is afraid of something.
I take a step closer to him. “I’ll help you, Brian. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”
“You can’t!” He snaps, then seems to come to his senses, his eyes widening like he shouldn’t have said that. He takes a step back, his hands shaking, then glances out of the window and back at me. “Malta, come look at this. Out there. You need to see it.”