Page 17 of The Furies

“Now give me his name,” said Kepler.

Reuben hesitated.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” he said.

“It’s too late for that.”

Reuben recalled what he had read about Edwin Ellerkamp’s end, and understood that his own life was hanging by a thread. He almost asked Kepler if he’d killed Ellerkamp, the question waiting to be spat out, until he realized that the reply, if given, would damn him. He knew the answer anyway, or thought he did, but sometimes a person desired confirmation, and to hell with the consequences.

“I received the coins from Egon Towle,” said Reuben, which was the truth.

But not the whole truth, and therefore nothing like the truth.

* * *

KEPLER WAVED THE GUN at Reuben, indicating that he should take one of the chairs. When Reuben sat, so, too, did Kepler, but heavily and wearily.

“I’m aware of Egon Towle,” said Kepler. “I had always considered him to be an inconsequential man. It bothers me that I was mistaken.”

“He loves coins,” said Reuben, “and his knowledge of them is remarkable.”

“His knowledge of other subjects, too,” said Kepler, almost wonderingly. “How long he must have spent stalking me. Such care he must have taken so that I would not become aware of his attention, or hear the approach of his footsteps.” He was silent again for a time, then: “But he couldn’t have planned and carried out the theft alone.”

“I only met Towle,” said Reuben.

True, but once more to a degree.

“Where is he now?” said Kepler.

“In hiding, I should think. From you,” Reuben added, even if this was obvious. But he was frightened, and a frightened man deplores silence.

“You must have a means of contacting him,” said Kepler.

“An email address and a phone number.”

“I want both.”

“Do you mind if I take out my cell phone?” asked Reuben.

“Not at all.”

Reuben retrieved his phone, pulled up Egon Towle’s contact details, and displayed the screen to Kepler.

“Write it all down,” said Kepler.

Reuben took a pen from his pocket and scribbled the number and email address on a receipt from his wallet.

“What did he say about the rest of my coins?” said Kepler, as he stored the paper away. “Did he plan to put them on the market?”

“I asked if there were more,” said Reuben. “He said there might be.”

“Is that all?” he said.

“Yes.”

And here, at last, was the big lie, but Reuben had been practicing it, and it sounded flawless to his ear. He waited for Kepler to call him on it, but the moment passed and Kepler’s attention moved on.

“I could shoot you for the inconvenience you’ve caused me,” he told Reuben. “It wouldn’t give me much satisfaction, but I admit it would give some.”

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