He had several problems, but he was only here to take care of one.
Father Wilkins glowered at him.
“Bash…do you know Bash? He gets a little impatient sometimes. Like now. He just wants what’s rightfully his. You understand that, don’t you, Marion? Bash also gets easily bored, so he snoops. Reminisce. Put the pieces together.”
At least when he was lucid.
“My aunt Celia told him something very interesting recently. I suppose Joe liked to talk. He talked to you about her. He talked to her about you. See how that goes? Just a big old loop-the-loop.”
The priest paled.
Easton patted his cheeks. “But, Marion, old friend, I have a problem. Webothhave a problem. I need to know who the club belongs to.”
“I don’t have that answer.”
“Youdon’t, but the will does.”
Father Wilkins drew himself up. “You’re fishing. If Joe had claimed to anyone, but especially Cee Cee Caldwell and Sharper Banks, that I had a copy of his will, I would’ve been dead long ago.”
“Hedidn’t tell anyone. My aunt told Bash and he told me. Smart woman that she is, she waited until Cleaner was gone and suggested I get on the job to uncover the truth.”
“How’d you find me?”
He’d talked to Johnnie, though Easton knew better than to reveal Bash’s suspicions about the will. The stupid motherfucker would get himselfandEaston killed. He’d simply asked if the Death Dwellers had a chaplain. One leading question and Johnnie blabbed everything.
Now that Bash, Cleaner, and Tío were back in Salt Lake City, Easton could breathe easier. Bash wanted him there in a couple of days. Once he finished here, he’d hit the road. Before he returned, he’d see what he could do to save Molly. Perhaps, after, he’d go to Outlaw.
The chess match between Bash and Outlaw wasn’t a fair playing field since the latter didn’t have full disclosure.
The day after Bash summoned Johnnie to the house and Cleaner and Tom Harris got Tío from whatever hospital to fly back home, Bash, Aunt Celia, and Easton were talking about the past when she’d brought up Big Joe.
“I wonder whatever happened to his friend, Marion,” she’d said. “I always thought it was so funny that a guy had that name.”
She’d gone a little further and mentioned Cee Cee thoughtFather Wilkinsa very discerning little criminal because he hadn’t liked Sharper.
Easton recognized the name. At some point, Johnnie mentioned him. Or he’d heard it from one of the Death Dwellers at the club.
“Big Joe once told me he gave a copy of his real will to Marion,” Aunt Celia went on.
Easton had seen the look on Bash’s face. His mind was spinning.
“Probably another fake. Joe Foy had more wills and documents than a courthouse archive.”
It didn’t seem as if Bash knew about the priest.So far. Once Bash left, Easton got to work, bugging the rectory while the priest had been at evening Mass.
If Marion had the correct will—most recently dated with the signatures of two witnesses—and it proved Meggie owned it all…
“Give me the will, Marion. I want to take it to Kendall so she can verify it and save Megan Caldwell if need be.”
“Do you think I’m a fool, sir?” Father Wilkins spat. “IfI had the will and gave it to you, you’d kill me and then have her killed.”
“You have no reason to trust me and I don’t have time to prove myself–”
“You’re Cee Cee’s grandson. A million years wouldn’t be enough time to convince me you’re trustworthy.”
Fuck, the little motherfucker was braver than expected.
Easton worked on borrowed time. Eventually, Bashwouldfigure out the priest’s identity and Easton’s stalling.AndMolly might be dead by the time he returned to Salt Lake City. Tom Harris’s statement didn’t bode well for her continued existence.
