Stranger in Paradise

55.

It was 6:30 in the evening when Jesse got home. Suit saw him start up the stairs to the condo. He waved, Jesse waved back, Suit pulled the cruiser out of the parking slot and drove away.

Fast shift change, Jesse thought. Probably headed for a tryst with Miriam Fiedler. When he went into his apartment, Amber was lying on her stomach watching some kind of reality show where husbands and wives fought with each other. When she heard the door open, Molly appeared at the kitchen door. She had a dish towel tucked into her belt.

“Nice look,” Jesse said. “Is that like an apron?”

“You and Jenn don’t cook,” Molly said. “And I got bored. So I made you a casserole.”

“Is it any good?” Jesse said.

“I’m of Irish Catholic heritage,” Molly said.

“Oh, well,” Jesse said.

Without taking her eyes from the television battle, Amber said, “What kind of casserole?”

“American chop suey,” Molly said.

“Ick,” Amber said. “What’s that made of.”

“Macaroni and stuff,” Jesse said. “If you don’t like it we’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I want peanut butter,” Amber said. “And a Coke.”

“Sure,” Jesse said.

When Jenn arrived, Molly left. Jesse and Jenn took their drinks out onto the balcony and sat together. Amber hung around sometimes with them, sometimes in the living room with the door open. Partly with them, partly not. Jesse thought they could probably chart Amber’s feelings about them by her proximity to the balcony.

“I’ve found out some things,” Jenn said.

Jesse nodded. It had become domestic, coming home from work, having a drink before dinner with Jenn. Kid lingering near them. Sleeping on the couch, on the other hand, was not so domestic.

“The title to the Crowne estate is a little complicated,” Jenn said.

“Uh-huh.”

“The estate was originally built by a man named Herschel Crowne,” Jenn said. “When he died it was left to his son, Archibald Crowne. At his death, Archibald left it in trust for the benefit of some disadvantaged children from Marshport.”

Jenn paused.

Always dramatic.

“Being the ones now using the facility,” Jesse said.

Jenn nodded.

“However, in the event that there was no use to which it could be put on behalf of these disadvantaged children, it would pass on to his only heir, his daughter, Miriam Crowne…who is married to a man named Alex Fiedler.”

“Aha,” Jesse said. “Miriam Fiedler.”

“So maybe her motives aren’t so pure,” Jenn said.

“The motives she admitted to aren’t so pure,” Jesse said. “Know anything about Mr. Fiedler?”

“He apparently travels much of the time,” Jenn said.

“Works out good for Suit,” Jesse said.

“What works out for Suit,” Amber said from the living room. “What are you all talking about out there?”

“The woman who owns the Crowne estate,” Jesse said. “She would benefit if the kids from Marshport didn’t go there.”

“What about Suit?”

“Private joke,” Jesse said.

“How come you won’t tell me?” Amber said. “I know Suit. He’s one of the cops sits outside when you’re not here.”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Jesse said.

“Then don’t,” Amber said. “I don’t care.”

“You know how much the Crowne estate is worth?” Jesse said to Jenn.

“A real-estate appraiser says eight to ten million.”

“How about the Fiedlers?” Jesse said. “You know how much they’re worth?”

“No, you think it matters?”

“Might. If they’re worth a hundred million, the estate would be a drop in the bucket. If they’re worth a hundred and fifty thousand, it would be something else.”

“I just assumed they were rich,” Jenn said.

“They seem rich,” Jesse said. “Why does Mr. Fiedler travel?”

In the living room, Amber focused deeply on the television set.

“Haven’t found out yet,” Jenn said.

“Maybe Suit can find out,” Jesse said.

“The undercover man,” Jenn said, and smiled.

In the living room sprawled on the floor in front of the television Amber was silent, showing in every way she could how little she cared about the conversation.