Page 30 of In a Far-Off Land
Oscar parked beside the roadster and stalked up to the door. He knocked. No answer. He pounded and heard a slurred shout from the place next door. Why should he care if he woke up the neighbors who caroused all night and slept all day?
The door opened and Max stood before him. His sagging pants and an untucked dress shirt looked like they’d been slept in. Lines creased his face. With skin lighter than Oscar’s, he could pass for agringo, but his hair gave away his mother’s side. Without the oil he used to tame it, it sprung into curls that reminded Oscar of Angel’s unruly mop. Max rubbed his hand over his red-rimmed eyes.“Caramba.”He stepped back.
It wasn’t exactly an invitation to come in, but Oscar brushed by him. Max’s entryway looked like he’d been robbed. A few picture hooks dangled from walls the color of egg yolk. An arched doorwayled to a room trimmed in walnut wainscoting, empty except for a tufted divan the color of a hot pepper and a box filled with books.
Max turned without a word and padded barefoot down a short hallway.
Oscar followed, his heavy work boots thudding on the polished wood floor. He passed a bedroom with a single bed and rumpled blankets. An evening jacket hung from a hook. A bow tie lay like a dead mouse in the middle of the floor. Maybe Max wasn’t as rich as he made people believe with his shiny LaSalle and sharp suits. The thought sparked a flicker of satisfaction.
Max led him into a small kitchen, as spotless as Mamá would have expected. A table with a speckled Formica top and two chairs sat on a shining black-and-white checked floor. A sink in the corner, a small gas stove, and an icebox took up the rest of the space. They faced each other, each sizing up their opponent like boxers in a ring.
An open bottle stood alongside a used glass. Oscar picked up the glass and sniffed. Tequila. And cheap. Max delved a hand into an almost-empty cupboard, coming out with another glass. He splashed some tequila in it and handed it to Oscar.
Oscar’s nose twitched and not because of the tequila. A mangy-looking calico with one ear lounged in a bright square of sunlight. Oscar drank the shot in one go and set the glass down on the table with a crack. “Still taking in strays, I see.”
As a child, Max had a soft spot for lost animals. Dogs, cats, even a baby raccoon at one time. The cats made Oscar sneeze, but Max took them in anyway and Oscar somehow ended up taking care of them. The drink burned its way down to his belly. He switched to Spanish. “Last night, you were at Lester’s party.”
Max took a wary sip. “It’s a free country.”
“With a girl, a redhead.”
Max frowned. “Yeah, so what?” He drank the rest in one swallow. “You’ll be happy to know she left me for the first old man who could get her where she wanted.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “History. Determined to repeat itself.”
Oscar didn’t have the time or the patience to figure out Max’s cryptic remarks. “So you don’t know about Roy Lester?”
“I know plenty about him.” Max reached for the bottle.
Oscar got in the first hit. “You know he’s dead?”
Max recoiled. “Dead?”
Oscar let loose another punch. “Murdered.”
Max staggered back. Either he hadn’t known or he’d become a good actor.
Now that Oscar had Max in a corner, he asked his question. “Why were you there last night, at Lester’s?”
Max ran a hand over his face, then turned his back on Oscar, leaning against the lip of the sink. When he turned around again, his face was shuttered. “Oscar, tell me how he died.”
“Answer my question first.” Oscar poured them each another shot and got ready for the next round.
Max ignored the drink. “A client of mine, she was invited to Lester’s. Now tell me how he died.”
“In his bedroom.”
Max let out a frustrated breath. “What killed him?”
Oscar sipped the tequila, eyeing Max’s clenched fists. “Stabbed.”
“Stabbed?” He said it like it couldn’t be true.
Oscar moved in for the knockout. “You had something to do with it, Max. You or that girl. I saw her this morning. She was a mess, running from the estate—”
“Saw her? What do you mean?” Max reached over the table andgrabbed the front of Oscar’s shirt. “Saw her where? If she came to harm, I swear I’ll—”
“Calm down!” Oscar jerked away and tequila splashed. He’d hit a nerve and that meant something. He just didn’t know what. “She’s fine. At least she was when I left her at her place this morning.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me all of it, Oscar.”
