The Blood Red Indian Summer

CHAPTER 11

There was a white Escalade parked in her driveway when Des got home. When she went inside the house she heard voices out on the back deck. Found the Deacon seated out there at the umbrella table having lemonade with Jamella and her father, Calvin. The Deacon had already gotten dressed for dinner with the Bergers in his customary charcoal flannel suit, crisp white dress shirt and muted tie. It was the first time Des had seen him wearing normal clothes since his surgery and it thrilled her beyond belief. Calvin had on a No. 54 Tyrone Grantham football jersey and a showy oyster gray cowboy hat with a feather stuck in its band. Kid Rock sat in his lap padding at his big belly. Jamella was dressed in the same yellow shift that she’d been wearing all day long. She looked wilted, bleary eyed and distraught. Her lower lip was fastened so firmly between her teeth that it was a wonder she didn’t draw blood.

“Ah, here she is,” the Deacon said brightly as Des joined them. “I told you she’d be right on time. If there’s one thing I taught Desiree it was punctuality.” He not only looked like his old self, he seemed much more animated and engaged.

A few kayakers were out on Uncas Lake enjoying the late day warmth. Thin gray clouds were moving in, dimming the hazy sunlight a bit.

Des sat down at the table and said, “How may I help you folks?”

“Not so much me, miss,” Calvin responded politely. “It’s my oldest girl Jamella here. She wanted to speak with you on your home turf. Got herself a bit emotional after what’s happened to our little girl Kinitra.” He paused so that Jamella could take it from there. She just sat there in guarded silence, so he kept on going. “I felt she was too upset to drive over here by herself, especially being seven months along. So I offered to drive her.” He sipped his lemonade, his face creasing with concern. “It turns out I’m an even worse father to my girls than I thought. Little Kinitra’s got herself pregnant, too. And here I’ve been under the same roof this whole time and didn’t even know anything was going on.”

“Nobody did,” Jamella said in a muted voice. “Don’t blame yourself, Popsy.”

“I wanted to visit her up at that hospital,” Calvin added. “But Jamella said Kinitra don’t want to see nobody or talk to nobody. You think she’ll be coming home soon, miss?”

Des nodded. “Assuming she doesn’t develop a lung infection.”

“I imagine she needs a little time alone to sort this whole business out, too.” Calvin let out a huge sigh. “I sure wish her mama was still around. She made sure both of my girls were quality young ladies. And they never gave her no cause to worry. Got good grades. Came right home when she told them to. My girls knew better than to hang around on street corners with trash. I’m the one was always in trouble,” he confessed. “But those days are behind me now.”

“That’s right, Popsy,” Jamella said reassuringly.

Des glanced over at the Deacon. His face revealed nothing. Never did. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Jamella?”

“I just thought that, I mean, I wanted to…” She broke off with a ragged sob. “God, this was a terrible idea. We should just go, Popsy. Stop bothering these people.”

“You’re not bothering us. What’s this about?”

Jamella reached for her lemonade and took a small sip, the glass shaking in her hand.

“She’s gotten herself all worked up,” Calvin explained. “Wondering if it could be her Tyrone who fathered Kinitra’s baby.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t,” Jamella insisted. “I’m just wondering -which I know is so unbelievably terrible. Not to trust the man who I love. But knowing what I know about his life before we met. All of those other women having his babies and…” She bit down hard on her lower lip again, her eyes puddling with tears.

“She did speak to Tyrone about it,” Calvin said. “The man swore to her he’s never touched Kinitra. But I could still see the doubt in her eyes. So I said, let’s go talk to the resident trooper about it. She’s investigating the case. She knows facts, not fears.”

“Speaking of facts…” The Deacon gazed at Des with chilly disapproval. “I understand from Jamella that Lieutenant Yolanda Snipes and Sergeant Toni Tedone of the Major Crime Squad have launched a criminal investigation.”

“That’s correct,” Des said, meeting his stern gaze before she turned back to Jamella. “Do you honestly believe Tyrone is capable of doing something like this?”

Jamella shook her head. “I don’t know. I-I just don’t…”

Calvin put his hand over hers. “Now don’t get all upset again. Just ask the lady what you came here to ask her.”

Jamella took another sip of her lemonade, her hand a bit steadier now. “I was wondering if Tyrone is a target of your investigation.”

“Technically? No. Because, technically, no crime has been committed.”

“How can you say that?” Calvin demanded. “Kinitra was raped.”

“She insists she wasn’t.”

“But you know she was!” Now Calvin was the one getting worked up. “Jamella said the doctors found awful scars and suchlike.”

“Kinitra’s still your little girl,” the Deacon put in, his voice calm and gentle. “But as far as the law is concerned, she’s a grown woman. If she says no crime took place then no crime took place. We see this all too often with domestic abuse cases. A neighbor will call us up and tell us that the man in the apartment next door is beating the heck out of his wife. We get there and the wife’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, her eye swollen half shut. She assures us she’s perfectly fine. Just fell down in the park while she was walking her dog. And there’s not a thing we can do.”

“That’s c-crazy!” Calvin sputtered in disbelief.

“That’s the law,” Des said. “But I promise you we’re trying to find out what happened.”

Calvin studied her from across the table. “You’re going the extra mile for my girl, aren’t you? You’ve got them investigating this thing even though she don’t want you to. How come, miss?”

“Because she’s afraid.”

“You mean afraid of Tyrone?”

“I don’t have anything concrete to implicate Tyrone at this point,” she replied. Meanwhile thinking that Calvin wasn’t exactly steering her away from Tyrone. Possibly the man knew something more. Something he wasn’t willing to spill in front of Jamella. “Where is Tyrone?”

“He was lifting with Clarence when we left,” Jamella said. “That’s what he does when he’s upset.”

“Does he know that you’ve come here?”

She shook her head. “I told him we were going out for ice cream.”

“And what about Rondell?”

“Working in his office, I imagine. I never know where he is. Rondell’s got to be the quietest man I’ve ever met. Tyrone says he’s been that way since they were boys and Chantal was into the drugs and all. Tyrone coped with it by getting so strong nobody could hurt him. Rondell shrank into the corner and got quieter.” She hesitated before she added, “He has a crush on Kinitra. I mean, it’s pretty obvious. But he’d never get rough with her. He has no meanness in him.”

“Yes, he does,” the Deacon countered. “We all do-if we’re riled a certain way.”

“True enough,” Calvin concurred, drinking down the last of his lemonade. “And you never know what’ll set somebody off. I’ve seen men get shanked in the yard over a danged candy bar.”

“What about Clarence?” Des asked Jamella. “Is he someone who we should be looking at?”

“Clarence has a big mouth. But he’s a decent person deep down. Besides, he’s got hot skanks coming and going. What does he need my baby sister for?”

“Maybe he’s in love with her.”

“Not so I’ve noticed. Have you, Popsy?”

“No, can’t say as I’ve ever gotten that particular vibe off of cousin Clarence. He does spend a lot of hours with Kinitra in the recording studio. I hear them lipping away at each other all of the time. But he’s strictly, you know, playful with her. Like she’s his own kid sister.”

Des found her thoughts straying to someone else who might know something-Chantal. She figured nothing went on there that Chantal didn’t know about. But she also felt certain that Chantal would never say one bad word about either of her sons. “I just realized I’m being a terrible hostess. I haven’t offered you folks more lemonade. I could go for a glass myself. Jamella, would you mind giving me a hand?”

“You sit, girl,” Calvin said. “I’ll help her out.”

“That’s okay, Popsy. If I don’t keep moving around I feel like a beached whale.” Jamella got herself up and followed Des inside with their empty glasses, leaving the two men out on the deck. “Girl, this is a real nice place you’ve got here. You must feel so proud owning your own home.”

“Yes, I do.” Des pulled the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and refilled their glasses. Found a glass for herself and filled that, too. She took a sip, lingering there in the kitchen with Tyrone Grantham’s pregnant wife. “Excuse me for asking but has Tyrone ever gotten rough with you?”

“You mean like slapped me around? No, never. I’d never let any man put his hands on me that way. I’ve got too much respect for myself.”

Des took another sip of her lemonade. Out on the deck, the Deacon and Calvin were talking softly. “Why are you really here, Jamella? What’s bothering you? You can trust me. I won’t tell a soul.”

Jamella gazed at Des imploringly. “Word?”

“Word.”

“I’m here…” She hesitated, swallowing. “Because I love Tyrone to death except I don’t know if I trust him. And that’s so messed up. I mean, how can you love a man and yet not be sure about him?”

“Easiest thing in the world. I did exactly that for three years with my ex-husband,” Des told her, having learned one simple truth long ago: When it comes to confiding, you need to give some to get some. “I even took him back again a few months ago-even though the bastard had cheated on me the whole time we were married and lied to my face about it. Didn’t matter. When it comes to men the heart wants what it wants and the head gets a great big dose of stupid. Hell, I actually convinced myself it would all be different this time.”

Jamella’s eyes searched hers. “And it wasn’t?”

“Not a chance.”

“How about Mitch?” she asked. “Do you trust him?”

“Yes, I do. I feel safe with him. How do you feel with Tyrone?”

“I don’t know what I feel,” Jamella answered wearily. “He’s never been anything but a perfect gentleman the whole time we’ve been together. But these stories about other women keep dogging him. Like this whole Stewart Plotka mess. Tyrone keeps telling me, ‘Baby, I don’t even know who Katie O’Brien is.’ And I’ve been believing him. But that man showed up outside our house today with a blouse of hers he says has Tyrone’s stuff on it. And now my own baby sister is pregnant. And, suddenly, I don’t know who to believe anymore. I feel like such a horrible person. But I want to know-really know -that it wasn’t him who went after Kinitra. Can you understand that?”

“I totally can. And I don’t think you’re a horrible person. You’re just watching out for yourself. I respect that. Now I need for you to respect me. Give us some time to do what we do. We’ll find out what really happened, okay?”

Jamella thought this over for a moment before she nodded and said, “Okay.”

Then they returned back outside to the deck.

“What you two ladies been jawing about in there?” Calvin asked them.

“I was just assuring Jamella that we’ll figure out who the man is,” Des answered. “And deal with him.”

“It’s me who he’s got to deal with,” Calvin said in a low, menacing voice. “Kinitra’s my little angel. No thug’s going to treat her like trash and get away with it. He’ll pay, all right, but not your kind of justice. My kind.”

“Don’t go making threats in front of us,” the Deacon said to him. “Your girls need you to be around for them. Not back in lockup.”

“You’re right about that, sir,” Calvin allowed. “But I just get so crazy when I think about it.”

“Why don’t you two go get that ice cream?” Des suggested. “And then head on home and relax. There’s an officer at your front gate twenty-four hours a day. And I’m five minutes away.” She handed Jamella her business card. “My cell’s right there at the bottom. Call me day or night.”

“Thank you,” Jamella said quietly. “And thank you, too, Mr. Mitry. Sorry to intrude on you like we did.”

“You didn’t intrude,” the Deacon said. “The door’s always open.”

Des showed Jamella and Calvin out. The Deacon was still seated there on the deck when she returned. “Thanks for playing host, Daddy. Just let me get out of this gunnysack and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Not so fast, young lady,” he growled. “Get back out here and sit yourself down now!”

She sat herself down, blinking at him in surprise.

“What in the hell did you think you were doing calling in the Major Crime Squad in the absence of a complainant?”

“I have a bad feeling about this one. Something very nasty has been going on in that house. Kinitra’s afraid to speak up. She needs me to look out for her. That’s what a resident trooper does.”

“I do not need a lecture from you on the job specifications of a resident trooper. It so happens I’m the man who has administered the entire program for the past eleven years. You have involved Major Crime Squad investigators despite the clear and obvious absence of a crime. You have squandered precious investigative man hours-”

“ Woman hours.”

“To follow up on nothing more than a-a cowboy hunch.”

“Cow girl hunch.”

“Desiree, you’re lucky I don’t pick up the phone this very minute and have a talk with Yolanda’s captain. I can guarantee you he knows nothing about this little adventure and he will not be pleased to find out she… why in the hell are you grinning at me like that?”

“Because this is the first time you’ve acted like you in I don’t know how long. I’ve tried everything. Honestly, Daddy, I was at my wit’s end. And the answer’s been staring me in the face all along-I just had to go rogue.”

“This is not funny, Desiree. There are rules. And those rules-”

“Exist for a very good reason, I know.”

“I cannot believe you roped in Yolanda.”

“She was free to say no. She’s her own woman.”

“Nonsense. She looks up to you. And who in the hell is Toni Tedone?”

“Their first she on Major Crimes. They call her Toni the Tiger. You’ll like her a lot.”

“That’ll be the day.” The Deacon despised the Tedones with every fiber of his being. It was Captain Richie Tedone of IA who’d tried to squeeze him out when he went in for his heart surgery. The asshole would have succeeded, too, if Des hadn’t squeezed back. “I should apprise their captain of what you have them doing. You’re just lucky that, technically speaking, I’m still on medical leave.”

“You could still pick up the phone. Why don’t you?”

He looked out at the lake. “Because I happen to agree with you. This one smells nasty.”

“Jamella has genuine doubts about Tyrone.”

“With good reason.”

“He says he’s cleaning up his act.”

“Not a chance. Men don’t change. They are who they are. He’s been Da Beast for his entire adult life. He’s made millions of dollars being Da Beast. He relishes it. This suspension by the NFL is nothing more than a minor bump in the road for him.”

“You haven’t met him, Daddy.”

“Don’t have to. I’ve known his kind since I was a boy in the schoolyard.”

“He’s complicated.”

“He’s a bully. There’s nothing complicated about it.”

“What did you and Calvin talk about while we were inside?”

“Calvin’s failure to assume responsibility for his own life. He’s filled with regret. And he knows more about this matter than he was willing to let on.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Calvin has spent a big chunk of his life in the yard. A man like that always holds on to a choice morsel or two of information. Information is power.” The Deacon thumbed his chin thoughtfully. “He’s also frightened.”

“Of?…”

“A few months ago the man was scuffing around the streets of Houston. Now he’s living in a waterfront mansion. If Jamella leaves Tyrone over this mess, he’ll be back out on the street again. He’s feeling vulnerable. And a little bit ashamed. It’s no fun for a middle-aged man to be dependent on his daughter.”

“Are we still talking about Calvin?”

The Deacon fell silent. He’d always been emotionally walled off. It had driven Des’s mother so nuts that she’d finally left him after twenty-five years of marriage.

“Daddy, you can go home tomorrow. And back to work whenever you’re ready. The doctor has cleared you. The only thing holding you back is your own uncertainty. Which I totally get. But you’ve still got game.”

“I couldn’t even hold off that piece of dirt Richie Tedone. You had to step in and save me.”

“Which I was glad to do.”

“There was a time when I would have eaten Richie Tedone for breakfast.”

“You were sick. You’re not sick anymore. You’re fine.”

“Sure, I’m fine,” he said in a hollow voice.

“Just let me change my clothes lickety-split, okay? You ready to go?”

“I don’t feel like company this evening, Desiree. Think I’ll just stay here and watch some TV.”

“But you’re all dressed.”

“So I’ll get all un dressed.”

“Please don’t do this to me, Daddy. The Bergers have flown all the way up here from Florida to meet you. They’re nice people. And you like Mitch. Please come to dinner with me.”

He looked down at his big hands. “Sure, okay…”

Des darted into her bedroom with her stomach in knots. Changed from her uni into a white silk blouse and tan linen slacks. She was trying to decide whether or not to dab on lipstick when her cell rang. It was Yolie.

“What’s up, Miss Thing?”

“Just had a surprise visit from Jamella and her father,” Des informed her. “She’s afraid that Tyrone’s the father of Kinitra’s baby.”

“Well, that’s fairly damning.”

“Yeah, we thought so, too.”

“By ‘we’ you mean?…”

“My father and me.”

Yolie let out a gasp. “The Deacon know I’m working this with you?”

“I’m afraid so. But he’s cool. Well, not cool but he won’t say anything to your captain. What’ve you picked up?”

“Toni tracked down Lonnie Berryman through the University of Georgia Athletic Department. I just spoke to him on the phone. He told me Kinitra has been leaving him like twelve, fifteen text messages every day. Keeps telling him how much she loves him and wants to be with him again like when they were together in Glen Cove. Except, hear this, Lonnie swore to me they never were together. He told me he spoke to her for a little while at a pool party. She played him some of her music. And that was that. He never went near her. Just thought she was a cute kid. And now she’s practically stalking him. I asked him if he’d submit to a DNA test should it become necessary. He said he’d be happy to comply. Has no reason not to. The man sounded credible-unless he’s a lying dog.”

“Which is always a distinct possibility. What else?”

“We just caught up with Stewart Plotka and Andrea Halperin having themselves a drink by the pool at the Saybrook Point Inn. She jumped all over me when I asked Plotka where he was last night. Demanded to know why the Major Crime Squad was interested in his whereabouts and whether there was a criminal investigation underway and if so, what kind. I told her it was an unofficial inquiry. She told me I could unofficially go to hell. After some more warm, fuzzy sparring she decided to cooperate. Realized it was the only way she might learn something. Plus Plotka has nothing to hide. Or so she’s been led to believe. The two of them had dinner together last night right there at the inn. She went up to her room after dinner and worked until bedtime. Plotka hung out at the bar by himself and tried to hook a hottie. The waitress there, a good-looking blonde, told me Plotka kept bragging to her that he’d be coming into a lot of money soon. She was incredibly not interested. Thought Plotka was total scum.”

“This is a girl with keen instincts.”

“Plotka left the bar at about eleven. He told me he went straight to bed. But he has his own car parked out there in the lot. A Toyota Camry. The guests can access their rooms directly from the parking lot. Don’t have to go in and out by way of the front desk. Meaning he could have slipped out and driven to the Grantham place. Burrowed through that hole in the fence, gone after Kinitra and then returned to his room undetected. Toni’s at the New Haven newsroom of Channel Eight right now running their footage of the party for license plates. Maybe she’ll turn up Plotka’s Camry. She tried to get a guest list out of cousin Clarence but he wasn’t very helpful.”

“I smelled reefer smoke when I got there. He’s probably afraid that this could lead to a drug bust-which is the last thing in the world Tyrone needs right now.” Des dug a pair of sandals out of her closet and stepped into them. “Plotka’s media savvy. I don’t believe he’d park his car in full view of the news cameras. He’s not that dumb.”

“He’s that something.”

“Are you liking him for it?”

“Let’s just say I object to him using up our planet’s air, water and non-renewable fossil fuels.”

“But other than that, you’re a fan.”

Yolie let out a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Other than that, I am crushing on him huge.”

She drove her cruiser, the Deacon riding shotgun. He sat there straight and solemn in his gray flannel suit, big hands flat on his thighs, gaze fixed straight ahead. Didn’t say one word until she turned off Old Shore Road onto Turkey Neck.

“Since when is this the way to Big Sister Island?”

“I just have to make a quick stop, Daddy. It won’t take long.”

The usual mob of news crews, paparazzi and gawkers were clustered outside the Tyrone Grantham estate. The through-traffic was at a standstill despite the presence of the trooper who was trying to move drivers along.

The Deacon watched him with keen-eyed disapproval. “Does that trooper actually believe he’s helping matters by standing in the middle of the road?”

“I don’t know, Daddy. Would you like to ask him?”

“No,” he said stiffly. “Just drive on if you can. Paying a call on Mr. Grantham?”

“His next door neighbor.” Des inched her way past the Grantham place and pulled into the driveway of Justy Bond’s waterfront home. Two cars were parked out front. She parked alongside them and shut off her engine. “Couple of questions I need to ask, okay?”

“Whatever you need to do, Desiree. I’ll wait right here.”

“You will not. You’re coming with me. You were a big help just now with Calvin.”

“Don’t patronize me, young lady.”

“I’m not. I would never do that. But you don’t seem to realize how much gravitas you bring to the table. Please join me, will you?”

He climbed out of the car, glowering at her. “ Now what are you grinning about?”

“This is epic, Daddy. I dreamt about this moment when I was a little girl but I never actually thought it would happen.”

“ What would?”

“You and me-we’re actually working a case together.”

“We’re not ‘working a case.’ You’re playing a hunch and making a supremely clumsy effort to pump up my ego. You’re not fooling me, you know.”

“Daddy, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I swear, sometimes you’re just like your mother.”

“Um, okay, is that good thing?”

Bonita was swimming laps in the pool, her stroke steady and strong, the water gleaming on her tanned flesh. A shirtless, broad-shouldered June was down on the dock buttoning up the Calliope for the rainstorm that was forecast for later that evening. The sky was definitely turning grayer.

When Bonita noticed them there, she swam to the shallow end and got out, looking trim, toned and fabulous in her white bikini. “How nice to see you again, Trooper Des,” she said with a complete absence of warmth.

“Bonita, this is my father, Deputy Superintendent Mitry.”

She raised a speculative eyebrow at him. “Pleased to meet you.”

He studied her curiously. “Don’t I know you from those commercials? You used to be the Bond Girl.”

Bonita let out a throaty laugh. “You have a good memory. It’s been a while since I retired. These days I’m what’s known in polite Dorset society as a trophy bimbo.” She fetched a beach towel and dabbed herself dry. “Justy’s not here, I’m afraid. He’s got a regional dealership pow-wow up in Hartford. Probably won’t come rolling home until after eleven.”

“Actually, we’re here to speak to June.”

“In that case you’re in luck.” Bonita glanced down toward the dock at him. “He’s like a mother hen with that boat of his, I swear.”

Des and the Deacon started their way across the lawn toward him. No more than a hundred feet separated the Calliope from the dock where Da Beast was moored, looking long, low and positively obscene in the water. Tyrone Grantham’s little strip of private beach was plainly visible from there, too. The very beach from where Kinitra had taken her near fatal swim late last night.

“Hey, Des,” June said brightly as he scampered fore and aft, securing the Calliope ’s lines.

“June, this is Deputy Superintendent Mitry. Also known as my father.”

“Glad to know you, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I understand you’ve been sleeping out here on the Calliope lately,” she said.

June’s eyes flicked across the lawn toward Bonita, who was now stretched out in a lounge chair. The Deacon followed his gaze, his own eyes narrowing fractionally. “Well, yeah,” June acknowledged. “Mitch… told you about that?”

“He told me you were prepping for an epic sea voyage. Wanted to get used to sleeping aboard.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m sailing her down to the Florida Keys.”

“June, there was an incident next door late last night. I wondered if you might have heard something.”

“I heard their party, if that’s what you mean. It sounded outrageous. Tons of people, great music. Did my dad call you and complain? Because they quieted down real fast at around eleven o’clock. I’m guessing that’s when you showed up.”

“You’re guessing right.”

“He was out of line, Des. The party wasn’t that loud. Besides, people have a right to enjoy themselves, don’t they?”

“I was interested in something that happened later on.”

June lowered his eyes, swallowing uncomfortably. “Later on?”

“Maybe two, three o’clock in the morning. It was a warm night. I’m guessing you had your hatch open. Wondered if you might have overheard an altercation between a man and a woman on the beach over there. Did you have the hatch open?”

“Yeah, I did,” he murmured.

“Were you on board alone?”

“Callie didn’t stay over. She was pulling an all-nighter at the studio.”

“You didn’t answer the question, son,” the Deacon pointed out. “She asked if you were alone.”

June reddened. “Yeah, I was alone.”

No wonder June was no good at selling cars. He was one sucky liar.

“And I think I did hear something going on over there-now that you mention it. A couple woke me up some time in the middle of the night. I don’t know when. But it didn’t sound like any altercation. More like they, you know, snuck away after the party and were getting busy on the beach.”

“Did you hear anything besides them getting busy?”

June frowned. “Yeah, I heard someone spashing around in the water. I think it was her. Yeah, it was definitely her. Because the guy called out to her.”

“How did he sound? Was he angry?”

“No, more like he was afraid she’d drown or something.” June’s eyes widened. “Did somebody drown?”

“Nobody drowned. Did you get a look at either of them?”

“No, I was below deck. Just woke up for a second and then went right back to sleep. I’d completely forgotten about it until you mentioned it.”

“June, do you remember if he called her by her name? Or used a term of endearment of any kind?”

June pondered this for a moment. “He called her ‘girl.’”

“Can you tell me anything about his voice?”

“Not really. Just that he sounded… black. Not that I’m trying to racially profile him or anything. It was just the impression I got.”

“Understood. Did you get any kind of impression in regards to his age? Was he young? Educated? Not so educated?”

“I really didn’t get any kind of read on that. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. You’ve been a huge help, June. Thanks.”

“No problem. And, hey, please thank Mitch, will you?”

“For?…”

“Callie’s been conflicted about some things. She told me he’s been helping her sort them out.”

“That’s my man.”

Des and the Deacon started back across the lawn now toward the patio, where Bonita lay stretched languorously in that lounge chair, her long, lovely legs crossed at the ankles.

“June’s not in some kind of trouble, is he?” she asked them.

“Not at all,” Des assured her. “I was just asking him if he heard a disturbance down on your neighbor’s beach late last night-perhaps two or three o’clock. Were you up that late by any chance?”

“Why, no. That party of theirs was so out of control that I took an Ambien. As soon as you quieted them down, I went to sleep and stayed asleep.”

“And how about your husband?”

“He drank an entire bottle of Scotch and conked out, too.”

“How do you know that?” the Deacon asked her.

Bonita batted her baby blues at him. “How do I know what?”

“That he drank an entire bottle of Scotch and conked out. You just said that you were asleep.”

“Well, I don’t know it. But that’s what he does every single night of the year. Why would last night be any different?”

“No reason at all,” he said to her politely. “Lovely home you have here.”

“Why, thank you, Deputy Superintendent Mitry.”

They took the bluestone path back toward her cruiser.

The Deacon was a very patient man. He waited until he got back in the car, closed his door and fastened his seat belt before he turned to Des and said, “How long has that boy been sleeping with his stepmother?”

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“I’d hardly classify that lady as subtle.”

“I’d hardly classify that lady as a lady. Think she took that Ambien?”

“Not a chance,” the Deacon replied. “I don’t think she slept in her own bed either.”

“June told Mitch that it was she who initiated things-for whatever that’s worth. He’s sailing out of here before she gets her nasty on and tells his dad.”

“And this girlfriend, Callie, of his? How much does she know?”

“Poor girl hasn’t got a clue. June wants her to drop out of school and come with him. Mitch is trying to talk her into finishing out the semester first.”

He gazed through the windshield at the Bonds’ picture-postcard home with its multimillion-dollar view of the Sound. “These people make me sick.”

“Welcome to Dorset, Popsy.”

“Get us the hell out of here, Desiree. And don’t you ever call me ‘Popsy’ again.”