As Mitch strolled in the direction of the lighthouse, lost in his thoughts, he came upon Yolie and Lieutenant Very seated together on a driftwood log watching the sun come up.
“Morning, kids!” he called out to them.
“Oh, hey, dude…” Very seemed surprised to see him. Also a bit guilty.
So did Yolie. She lowered her gaze, shifting around on the log.
“Whoa, is it six-thirty already?” Very said with a glance at his watch. “I had no idea. Although I did hear some righteous heavy metal a few minutes back. Somebody really bringing it.”
“That was me. And it was blues, actually.”
“No way. I definitely heard Leslie West’s opening riffs to ‘Mississippi Queen’ in there.”
“You know you your vintage axe men, Lieutenant. I’d offer you breakfast but Bitsy is no doubt building you a lumberjack special as we speak.”
“Yeah, I’d better head on over there. I want to hit the road soon.” He climbed to his feet. “Yolie, I’ll call you from the City as soon as I’ve had a go at Vinnie.”
“You do that,” she said quietly, her eyes large and soft.
“And, dude, I’ll holler good-bye before I shove off. If you’re still home, I mean.” Very gazed around at the idyllic Yankee Eden that was Big Sister Island, one knee jiggling, head nodding, nodding. “And here I thought nothing ever happened in a small town like this.”
“You thought wrong, Lieutenant. We play with live ammo here. If you want some real action come back to Dorset.”
“I hate to admit it,” he said, “but this place is cool.”
“Very.”
The lieutenant frowned at him. “Yeah, dude?”
Mitch sighed. “It’s very cool.”
“You got that right.”
Detective Lieutenant Romaine Very started his way up the beach toward Bitsy’s place. Yolie watched him go. Mitch sipped his coffee, saying nothing.
She got up off of the log, swiping the sand from her trousers. “It’s not how it looks, okay? I don’t give it up for men I barely know. I’m not like that.”
“Did I say you were?”
“Didn’t have to. That smirk is saying it for you.”
“I’m not smirking. I’m kvelling.”
“Kvelling? What’s that mean?”
“It means I’m happy for you. Can’t I be happy for you?”
“Whatever. We just talked is all. Talked all night. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. We spent a good two hours on politics. He’s a borderline socialist, you want my honest opinion. Then a solid hour on the works of Mr. Albert Camus, who he’s read in the original French. Not bragging on himself. Well, maybe just a little. Then, shortly before sunrise, he started reciting Howl by Mr. Allen Ginsberg, which I swear he knows entirely by heart.”
“It’s worth knowing by heart.”
“Hey, I’m there.” She glanced down the beach at Very’s retreating figure. “He’s a sweet guy. Smart, interesting. Drop-dead cute.”
“That nodding thing doesn’t bother you?”
“What nodding thing?”
“Nothing. Pay no attention to me.”
“I wonder what’s wrong with him.”
“Why does anything have to be wrong with him?”
“He told me he hasn’t been in a steady relationship in years.”
“Neither have you.”
“We were talking about him, not me. He’s probably the type who just smiles and dials whenever he feels like it. Except he doesn’t seem like the player type. Listen to me, will you? You’re all players.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re a freak.”
“Thank you large for noticing.” They started back up the beach toward his house. “What’d you find out last night at the casino?”
“Beth and Vinnie were definitely there Saturday night. Checked in at the front desk at nine-thirty. The hotel has them right there on their time-coded surveillance cameras. That means they had to be on the road somewhere between here and Uncasville at the time of Augie’s death.”
“So they’re in the clear.”
“Unless Vinnie put out a hit on him, like Very thinks. Where’s our girl?”
“Halfway to Boston by now, knowing her.”
“I should get rolling, too. I have to break this case open.”
“Can I pour you a cup of coffee? I just made it.”
“You talked me into it. And maybe I ought to change these stanky clothes before I have a go at Beth. I think I still have some clean ones left in the trunk of my ride.”
“You’re welcome to use my shower.”
“I believe I will. Find out for myself what all of the fuss is about.”
“Which fuss is that?”
She smiled at him. “Oh, I’ve heard about what goes on in there.” Then she came to a halt, turning serious. “I don’t want you thinking what you’re thinking, Mitch. We didn’t spend the night together.”
“Come here, you big lug.” He put his arm around her shoulder. It was like grabbing hold of a boulder. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m not your father. I’m your friend.”
“In that case I do have something to tell you…”
“What is it, Yolie?”
“I want to get with that boy so bad I can barely breathe. If he doesn’t come back here and bust a move, I swear I will explode.”
“There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.”
CHAPTER 16
“The Tokyo markets opened three percent higher today,” Des announced brightly as she leaned against her cruiser in Captain Richie Tedone’s driveway, holding his freshly delivered Monday morning edition of the Hartford Courant out to him.
The human lug nut stood there in his terry-cloth bathrobe, blinking at her sleepily. Unshaven and uncombed, Richie looked a whole lot more like a wild boar than Des was cool with. “What can I do for you, Master Sergeant Mitry?”
“Actually, it’s what I can do for you, sir.”
“And that is…?”
“I think I just may be able to save your life.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your career, your marriage, family… Pretty much everything you hold near and dear, Captain.”
Richie shot a quick glance at the house before he turned back to her, his chest all puffed out. “Look, I don’t know if you’ve been on an all-night bender or what, but showing up here at six o’clock in the morning blowing smoke at me is not what I’d classify as a real smart career move. I’m heading inside to have my breakfast now. You want to have a conversation with me, you call and make an appointment. Mondays are usually skunky but I’ll try to squeeze you in. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“I wouldn’t go inside for that breakfast yet, Captain. Not if I were you.”
He heaved a sigh of disgust. “All right, let’s have it. And make it fast.”
She held the manila envelope out to him. He took it from her and opened it. Inside were copies of the digital photos she’d printed out of Richie standing in the doorway of apartment C of the Edgewood Vista apartments, exchanging slurpy kisses with a half-naked Michael Reginald Toomey, aka Eboni.
Richie grew redder and redder as he riffled through them. “Why, you sneaky bitch. What in the hell do you think you’re…?”
“I ran Toomey’s arrest record. Turns out he has a long history of arrests for prostitution and drug possession. He was also up to his eyeballs in the Suburban Madam case, remember? The madam alleged that a member of the task force accepted sexual favors from one of her prostitutes. After conducting a thorough interrogation of said prostitute you determined that there was no merit to the charge. Case closed. Aside from the fact that you’re now paying the rent on said prostitute’s apartment and bought said prostitute that cute little red Beemer.”
He glared at her long and hard. “Are you trying to make a point?”
“Well, yeah. You’re keeping house with a key witness in a case you personally investigated. A pro, as it happens. A tranny pro, in fact. Not that I’m passing judgment on your lifestyle. But it’s really, really not the sort of behavior that Internal Affairs looks too kindly on.”