Second Honeymoon

Chapter 46

TRUE TO MY word, I got Max and his brother back to camp in time for pepperoni pizza night. I should’ve grabbed a slice for myself. Less than halfway home, I was starving. Who knew all this catharsis stuff would give me such an appetite?

Salvation came soon enough with a place off the Taconic State Parkway called the Heavenly Diner. A handmade sign in the window read SINNERS WELCOME, TOO! Nice touch.

I passed on one of their blue vinyl booths for a seat at the counter and promptly ordered the Lipitor Special: a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake, extra thick.

“Coming right up,” said the seasoned waitress, whose blond wig needed a little tug to the left, to put it politely.

She shuffled off and I reached for my cell to check my e-mail. Nothing pressing. Unless, that is, you count that dead uncle I apparently have in Nigeria who left me thirty-five million dollars.

I was about to slip the phone back into my pocket when it rang in my hands. The caller ID didn’t come up with a name, but I recognized the number. It was police commissioner Eldridge down in Turks and Caicos.

“Hey, Joe,” I said.

We were now on a first-name basis with each other. In fact, he even threw out a “Johnny-o” at me the last time we spoke. That’s when I asked if he could find out how many Chinese passports had entered his country over the past couple of weeks.

The results were in.

“Seven,” said Eldridge.

A billion Chinese people in the world and only seven had traveled to Turks and Caicos. Oddly enough, that sounded about right.

“Anyone jump out at you?” I asked.

“What is it your Sarah Palin says up there? You betcha.”

There were three Chinese couples—six people total—who arrived on three separate days, he explained. In each case, the hotel they listed on the customs declaration was the hotel at which they stayed. He’d checked it out.

“Not that the killer had to be staying at the same resort as Ethan and Abigail Breslow,” he acknowledged. “But guess who was?”

That’s right. Contestant number seven.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“His name is Huang Li,” he said. “He checked into the Governor’s Club two days before the murders.”

“When did he check out?”

“Two days after.”

“Do we know anything else?” I asked.

“Not really. A pool guy remembered seeing him, but that’s it so far. I’m having to conduct these interviews off campus, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll look into the guy from here, see what I can dig up.”

“Let’s hope it’s more than I can find,” he said. “Of course, with all this I’m assuming that where the Breslows were honeymooning was public knowledge, right?”

I didn’t answer. In fact, I barely heard him. He might as well have been the adult in a Peanuts cartoon.

“John?” he asked. “You there?”

I was there, all right. But from the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw something that made me realize there was somewhere else I needed to be.

“Joe, I’ve got to call you back,” I said.

“Is everything all right?”

“I’m not sure.”