KILLING PLATO (A Jack Shepherd crime thriller) by Jake Needham Page A

having any idea what else to do.
    “I got two boys back in Dallas with my ex-wife and I miss ‘em. I want to pop this bastard and go home, but I don’t feel any closer to doing that now than I did the day I arrived.”
    “So you’re still waiting for Karsarkis’ extradition to be approved by the Thais? Is that it?”
    “Yep. You got it, Slick.”
    CW’s eyes flicked at me and then away. For a moment he seemed like he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.
    “So then tell me, what’s your relationship with Karsarkis?” he asked instead.
    “Dinner guest.”
    “Nothing professional?”
    “For Christ’s sake, CW, you’re not going to start that again, are you?”
    “I asked you before if you were one of his lawyers, Slick. You said you weren’t and I believe you.”
    “How nice.”
    “Now I’m asking you if you have any other professional connection with him. Maybe a business arrangement of some kind.”
    The question surprised me, but I struggled to keep my eyes still so CW wouldn’t see it. Did he somehow know about the conversation Karsarkis and I had had about his hotel deal? From the photographs it was clear CW wasn’t operating alone, and he obviously had some pretty good technology going for him so I supposed it was at least possible. But even if he had somehow eavesdropped on the conversation at Karsarkis’ house, what was I worried about? I’d told Karsarkis clearly that I wanted nothing to do with his business, hadn’t I? Why was I feeling vaguely guilty now about nothing more than having the conversation with Karsarkis?
    “Should I take your silence to mean you
do
have some kind of arrangement with him?” CW prompted before I had finished my musings.
    “No. You should take my silence to mean I’m searching for a polite way to say it’s none of your goddamned business. So far I haven’t come up with one.”
    “You’d best tell me the truth right now, Slick. Things will go a lot better for you that way.”
    I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I really did. But I didn’t really see what that would accomplish and what I wanted even more than that was to put an end to the whole damned conversation so I could go back to the hotel and Anita.
    “I have no relationship at all with Plato Karsarkis. Neither business nor social. I met him by coincidence in a restaurant here.”
    “The Boathouse. Yeah, we know. How come Karsarkis recognized you?”
    “I have no idea. He said he’d heard of me and seen pictures of me.”
    “And you believed him?”
    “Why wouldn’t I believe him? Why would the most famous man in the world walk up to me and lie about knowing me?”
    “I can’t put my finger on it, Slick, but something just don’t sound right.” CW shrugged slightly and rubbed at his face again. “Okay. Go on. How have you been involved with Karsarkis since then?”
    “I haven’t been. Anita and I went to his house for dinner because…well, because he asked us and my wife was curious about him. I didn’t even want to go. That was the only time I’ve ever seen the man, other than at the Boathouse.”
    “So you have no commercial relationship with him.”
    I threw up my hands and rolled my eyes.
    “Lordy, Mr. Marshal, don’t hit me again with your big stick. I’ll confess everything.”
    “Stop being such a smart ass, Slick. Just answer the fucking question.”
    “I have no commercial relationship whatsoever with Plato Karsarkis. Clear enough for you?”
    “If you’re lying to me, I’m gonna use your butt for a broom, boy.”
    “Don’t you think you’re laying on all that cornpone bullshit a little thick?”
    CW smiled. “Yeah. Maybe I am at that.”
    He dug some bills out of his pocket, twisted around, and dropped them on the bar. Then he stood up and started to put on his hat, but perhaps remembering his promise to me he tucked it under his arm instead and jammed his hands into his pockets.
    “There’s somebody I want you to meet. You want to go someplace else