The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 132

        

I shake the man's cool, manicured hand.

"Have we met before?" I say.

"Oh, I doubt it," the man says.

He turns to Sam. Gives her a warm hug.

"And you are?" he says.

"Sam. Hi," Sam says.

"Very nice to meet you. Please call me Cal," Cal says.

"You buy those boots on the drive over here?" Sam says as we sit down.

Cal chuckles. Raises his hands in the air.

"Guilty. I'm a total fish out of the water," Cal says. "I didn't realize no one wears cowboy boots around here. My feet are killing me."

A waitress comes over. Sets down three mugs and a coffee carafe.

Cal looks up at the waitress. "I'm sorry, I thought I ordered orange juice? It's on the menu," he says.

"All out of orange juice," the waitress says. "We have coffee, though."

Cal shrugs. Pours the hot liquid for us. We don't touch it.

"Hungry at all?" Cal says.

"Not really," I say. Especially after last night.

"Too late," he says. "I already ordered."

The waitress brings out heaping plates of bacon, sausage, pancakes and scrambled eggs. Cal scoops food onto smaller plates for us. Motions for us to eat.

"Please. You must be hungry at this time of the morning," Cal says.

I don't even pick up a fork. Sam stares at Cal.

Cal takes a couple pity bites of food. Shows his palms.

"Guys, relax. Enjoy this moment. Have a pancake. You can't sign paperwork on an empty stomach," Cal says.

Sam and I both open our mouths to say something. She gets it out first.

"Are you clueless?" she says.

I know Sam wants me to sign the contract. She's not acting like it with Cal. But I can see how she can't help herself. Last night was brutal. This guy's a total nob.

Cal takes Sam's question in stride.

"Clueless about what?" he says.

"Jane? Les? The Man Camp? Red? Gus? Everything," Sam says. "You're sitting there like it's no big deal. Are you in on this?"

Cal clears his throat. Takes a sip of coffee.

"I don't know those people. Our company runs a few Man Camps. Trailers, dorms and campgrounds. Very clean. Very nice," Cal says. "And I am in on this. The contract, that is. I'm the one who mailed it out."

I don't get the sense he's lying. It's clear he's a glad hand. An oil company hack. He has no idea what it took to get to this moment.

I unfold the contract onto the table.

"Let's talk. Maybe I'll find my appetite," I say.

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