He pursed his lips. "That's a puzzle. Any reason to think it wasn't gang retribution?"
"I'll let you know."
She did her own runs on the tenants of the building, and filled her briefcase with files for the trip home. She made certain she was home before dark.
Phoebe wanted all her family tucked inside before sundown, in case the rumblings in the city turned to a roar. In case those blocks between Jones and Hitch weren't enough to hold back the flood if it came.
She broke her own hard-and-fast rule, and though she put her weapon up on the high shelf in her closet, she kept it unlocked and loaded. Once Carly was settled for the night, Phoebe checked the locks, the alarms, then settled at her own desk. She kept the TV on low, in case of a bulletin, and began reading through the logs, the reports, the witness statements.
When her cell phone rang, she answered it absently, her mind on the diagram of the apartment building on Hitch. "Phoebe MacNamara."
"Duncan Swift. Hiya, cutie."
The idea of being called "cutie" when she was surrounded by ballistics, diagrams and various crime-scene reports made her smile. "Hello,
Duncan."
"Just checking to make sure I still have a crew for tomorrow."
"I think you'd best use the term 'crew' loosely, but yes, we're on for that. Carly would give me the silent treatment until her eighteenth birthday if I pulled out of this."
"Silent treatment's a formidable weapon. It makes me beg every time."
"Good to know."
"And stupid to admit. Anyway, I was meeting with Phin earlier today, and ended up asking his gang to come along tomorrow. That all right with you?"
"Absolutely. Carly'll be thrilled to have someone her age around.
She loves me, but I will bore her after a bit." She leaned back from the work, rising to walk to the terrace windows. "It sounds more like a party. I could use a party, I think."
"Figured you had a rough one. I caught you on TV this afternoon. Is it shallow of me to say you looked hot?"
She laughed. "Yes, and thank you. It's a god-awful mess, Duncan. God-awful."
"Why don't I come over for a bit? I'll be shallow again, sneak up to your room and distract you with heroic sex."
She had one silly and delightful fantasy image of him scaling the wall to her terrace. "Oh God, that sounds amazing. But no. Are you home? On the island?"
"Yeah, I had some stuff, so I'm here. But I've dealt with a good chunk of the stuff, and the rest can wait. If heroic sex is out, we can just neck like teenagers in the parlor, or watch a bad movie."
"I'd love to do any of that. Possibly all of that. But I don't want you coming into the city, not tonight. Things are bubbling tonight. You're good where you are, should they boil over." She disengaged the alarm on her zone so she could step out onto her terrace. "It's warm tonight. Not hot but warm, and that's good. Heat can set these things off."
"How about if I tell you besides looking hot, you handled yourself really well in that press conference? Anybody looking at you during it who didn't see you cared had to be blind."
"A lot of this kind of thing is about blindness. And could I be any more depressing?"
"What are you wearing?" he asked after a beat. "What?"
"I'm cheering you up with phone sex. What are you wearing?"
"Oh. Hmmm." She looked down at her cotton pants and tank. That would never do. "Oh, nothing much, just this little black slip I picked up in a vintage shop."
"Nice. Anything under it?"
"Just a few dabs of perfume… here and there."
"Very nice."
"How about you? What are you wearing?"
"Guess."
"Jeans. Just jeans, those washed-a-few-hundred-times Levi's. Riding low on the hips with the waistband button carelessly open."
"My God. You must be psychic."
With a sound of amusement, she sat down. For the first time in twenty-four hours her stomach wasn't knotted. "Oh my, these straps just keep falling off my shoulders. Those would be my delicately scented creamy white shoulders. I probably shouldn't be out here dressed like this, leaning over the railing. Why, my soft yet firm breasts might-oops-spill right out. What would the neighbors think?"
"You're a killer, Phoebe."
"Honey, I'm just getting started."
In the morning, it was easy to put the work away, to tuck it into a corner of her mind. Death and sadness, Phoebe supposed, had a way of making those who brushed up against them appreciate a blue-skied, sunny day, and the excited chatter of a child.
And Carly's first sight of the boat said it all.
"It's big! And it's pretty! This is going to be the best time ever."
"Then we better get started," Duncan decided.
"But where are the sails? You said it was a sailboat."
"They're rolled up right now. We'll hoist 'em once we're clear." He clambered on, then held out a hand for the girl. "Here you go. Welcome aboard."
"Can I look at stuff?"
"Sure."
"But don't touch," Phoebe called out as she came aboard. "It is big, and it is pretty. And I realized I should have asked if you really know how to handle this thing."
"I've only capsized her four times. Kidding. I always wanted to sail. Used to come down here and watch the boats. So when I decided to get a boat, I took lessons-and a course-as I didn't want to drown after achieving a lifelong dream. Still, the kids need to wear PFDs. Personal flotation devices. So will Biff."
"Who's Biff?"
"That would be Biff." Duncan pointed.
Phoebe spotted Phin, his wife and his little girl coming down the dock. Lumbering on a leash ahead of them was a stubby-legged, homely faced bulldog.
"Phin's dog. He figured a bulldog would lend an air of dignity. Which, you could say, he does if you discount the drool." Obviously an old sea hand, Biffjumped aboard, then wiggled his butt until Duncan hunkered down to rub him all over.
"What a perfect day for this. I'm going to do as much of absolutely nothing as possible." Loo stretched. "Hi, Phoebe. I hope you'll be joining me."
"I'll be glad to. Hi, Phin. Hi, Livvy."
"Puppy!" Carly scrambled on deck from the cabin below and all but tackled Biff. "Oh, he's so cute! What's his name? Mama, can't we get a puppy?"
"She's painfully shy," Phoebe announced. "I hope you'll pardon her."
"He's Biff." Not quite as outgoing as Carly, Livvy clung to her mother's hand. "He likes his belly rubbed."
Carly beamed and obliged the now ecstatic Biff. "There're beds downstairs and tables, and a kitchen and a bathroom and everything. Do you want to see?"
"I've seen it before."
"Let's go see it again. With Biff."
Livvy looked up at her mother. "I guess so."
"Those are pretty shoes," Carly said as they started down. "Maybe I can try them on. You can try mine on, too.
It was an experience, Phoebe thought, to motor away from the dock, steam and slip through the water with the little girls fused together at the stern, and the not-so-dignified dog sitting on the starboard bench with his funny face lifted to the air.
But it was nothing to the moment when the white sails rose and filled with wind. Like the dog, Phoebe lifted her face.
"Mimosas," Loo announced, and offered a glass as she sat beside Phoebe.
"Oh God. This must be heaven. Are we going to have to jib or hoist or some other salty term?"
"Only if the spirit moves. Phin doesn't know what the hell he's doing unless Duncan tells him, but he likes to pretend he does." She smiled over at the men. "But he's game. Me, I tried to talk Dune into a motorboat-cabin cruiser. But he just had to have sails." She drew in a long breath, stretched out incredibly long legs. "Hard to argue at times like this."