"The dead are very honest, Mr. Stirling. They don't lie."
He took a step towards me, face very sincere. "My entire future is riding on you, Ms. Blake."
"No, Mr. Stirling, your future rides on the dead at your feet. Whatever comes out of their mouths will decide it."
He nodded. "I suppose that is fair."
"Fair or not, it's the truth."
He nodded again. Some light had gone out of his face, like someone had turned down the power. The lines in his face were suddenly clearer. He aged ten years in a few seconds. When he met my gaze, his dramatic eyes were woeful.
"I'll give you a piece of the profits, Ms. Blake. You could be a billionaire in a few years."
"You know bribing won't work."
"I knew it wouldn't work just a few minutes after we met, but I had to try."
"You really do believe this is the Bouvier family plot, don't you?" I asked.
He took a deep breath and walked away from me to gaze off at the trees. He wasn't going to answer my question, but he didn't have to. He wouldn't be so desperate if he didn't believe he was screwed.
"Why won't the Bouviers sell?"
He glanced back at me. "I don't know."
"Look, Stirling, there are just the two of us up here, nobody to impress, no witnesses. You know why they won't sell. Just tell me."
"I don't know, Ms. Blake," he said.
"You're a control freak, Mr. Stirling. You've overseen every detail of this deal. You have personally seen that every 'i' was dotted, every 't' crossed. This is your baby. You know everything about the Bouviers and their problem. Just tell me."
He just looked at me. His pale eyes were opaque, empty as a window with no one home. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell me. Why?
"What do you know about the Bouviers?"
"The locals think they're witches. They do a little fortune-telling, a few harmless spells." There was something about the way he said it, too casual, too offhand. Made me want to meet the Bouviers in person.
"They any good at magic?" I asked.
"How am I supposed to know?"
I shrugged. "Just curious. Is there a reason why it had to be this mountain?"
"Look at it." He spread his arms wide. "It's perfect. It is perfect."
"It is a great view," I said. "But wouldn't the view be equally good over on that mountaintop? Why did you have to have this one? Why did you have to have the Bouviers' mountain?"
His shoulders slumped; then he straightened and glared at me. "I wanted this land, and I got it."
"You got it. Trick is, Raymond, can you keep it?"
"If you are not going to help me, then don't taunt me. And don't call me Raymond."
I opened my mouth to say something else and my beeper went off. I fished under the coverall for it, and checked the number. "Shit," I said.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm being paged by the police. I've got to get to a phone."