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Number one: De
Frederick Stanton believed the death was drug-related. Profiles indicated traffic between the U.S. and Canada. Profiles indicated the 3rd Sister as a red-hot possibility. And she was the only concession working the island that week with known dive capabilities. If Stanton could get a case up, the 3rd Sister would be impounded. The Bradshaws would be out of a living and, more to the point, out of a life. Diving was all they had, all they cared about.
Number two: Mrs. Scotty Butkus had vanished, beaten certainly, and, if Tinker and Damien were right, consumed as if by a Windigo, the ca
Number three: Tinker and Damien now had a mystery all their own. Who was threatening them? What happened in 1978 to, in, or because of “Hopkins”?
Four: Why had Jim Tattinger been ru
And five-or was she already to six? What was De
Why was Molly’s client wearing suspenders and a belt? More to the point, how was Hawk Bradshaw in bed?
A
A clatter of footsteps broke into her thoughts. Invisible in the shadowless dark, she lay still. The clatter ended in a flop. A pale shape dumped itself on the wooden step a couple of yards from A
“Evening, Carrie A
“Not hardly.” Carrie, at thirteen, had already mastered the art of adolescent sulle
“Ah.” A
Carrie squirmed, a shush of denimed buttocks over the wood. “Mom send you out here to keep an eye on me?”
“I was here first,” A
Mystery number seven-or was it eight? Who was Carrie A
A
“Nothing,” Carrie grumbled. “Mom thinks I’m a baby.”
A
With the teenager’s paranoid ear, Carrie heard the implied agreement. “I’m not. I’m thirteen. Juliet Whatsername was married when she was thirteen.”
“And dead at thirteen and a half. Careful of your allusions.”
“Mom grew up in the sixties. She probably slept with every guy in Santa Cruz. Now it’s like sex has been recalled or something. Like a Pinto. Rear-ended once and it blows up.”
A
“Oh. Yeah. Like everybody’s got AIDS,” Carrie sneered. “Can I have some of that wine?”
“Nope.”
“You drink too much.”
A
Carrie began scooting over to where A
A
“Mom likes to pretend she’s cosmopolitan.” Carrie shrugged off the compliment she’d worked so hard for. “I’ve been drinking wine since I was five.”
“Watered?” A
“I guess,” Carrie replied indifferently. “You ought to ask her for some of her secret stash. But you can’t guzzle it.”
A
“Carrie!” came a call.
“Oh God,” the girl groaned. “Mom.” She lumbered off.
Whether to or from the voice, A
“Carrie!”
Evidently Carrie A
“Sorry,” Patience said curtly. “Have you seen Carrie? I’m going to strangle her.”
“In that case, yes I have. She went thataway.” A
“She must’ve slipped off the edge of the deck and run around through the bushes. Little beast.” Patience sighed, clicked off the flashlight, and sat down on the step. “I’m damned if I’m going to go ru
“You can strangle her then,” A
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“I encourage it,” A
“Carrie A
“Coloreds.” A
“What else could generate all this creeping around and lying?” Patience asked.
A
“Enough!” Patience cried. “I feel better already just talking with you.” She laughed. “Any Graves left?”
“A glass or two.” A
“I never do this.” A white flutter blurred the darkness. She took a swig from the bottle, then neatly wiped the mouth clean with her hankie.
“Keep it,” A
“Damn Carrie.” Patience returned to her former theme. “You’d think she’d…” She seemed to be mentally listing things any sensible person would do under like circumstances and rejecting the possibility that her daughter would do likewise. “Damn, damn, damn, double damn, hell!” she fumed and A