Hemlock Bay

“What did your mom think of all the legends about Buck Savich? There were so many colorful ones floating about long before he died.”

“She’d just shake her head, grin like a bandit, and say she didn’t think the tales were exaggerations at all. Then, I swear it to you, she’d blush. I think she was talking about intimate things, and it always freaked us kids out. You just can’t think of your parents in that way, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do. I guess, on the other side of the coin, our parents look at us and see little kids who will be virgins for the rest of their lives.”

Lily laughed. “What about your parents? Where do they live?”

“My folks have been divorced for a very long time. My dad’s a lawyer, remarried to a woman half his age. They live in Boston. No little half-brothers or half-sisters. My mom didn’t remarry, lives in Los Angeles, runs her own makeover consulting firm. If they ever had any liking for each other, it was over before I could remember it. My sisters, both older than I am, told me they’d never seen anything resembling affection either.” He paused just a moment, slowed a bit for a particularly gnarly turn, then sped up again. “You know, Lily, I have a hard time seeing you as a bookie. Did you make some money for college?”

She gave him a shark’s grin, all white teeth, ready to bite. “You bet. Thing was, though, Mom decided it was better that Dad not know exactly what my earnings totaled from age sixteen to eighteen, especially since I hadn’t paid any taxes.”

“It boggles the mind.” He looked at her then, saying nothing, just looking. “Do you know that you’re looking more like a fairy princess again? I like you in all that black. How’s your scar doing?”

“My i

“I always did like to watch her move.” He gri

“Too well,” she said, “and I don’t like to think about it, so stop looking at me.”

“Okay.” For a couple of seconds, Simon kept his eyes on the road. Then he said, chuckling, “As I said, when I saw the black, I knew it was you. But you know, I think the biggest change was your getting all that ash and soot washed out of your hair and off your face.”

Every stitch she was wearing was black, even the boot socks. She said, not intending to, “Why haven’t you ever married?”

“I was married, a very long time ago.”

“Tell me.”

He gave her another sideways look, saw that she really wanted to know, and said, “Well, I was twenty-two years old, in overwhelming lust, as was Janice, and so we got married, divorced within six months, and both of us joined the army.”

“That was a long time ago. Where is Janice now?”

“She stayed in the army. She’s a two-star general, stationed in Washington, D.C. I heard she’s gorgeous as a general. She’s married to a four-star. Hey, maybe someday she’ll be chief of staff.”

“I wonder why Dillon didn’t tell me.”

“He would have been my best man in the normal course of things, but we eloped and he was off in Europe that summer, living on a shoestring, so I knew he didn’t have the money to fly home, then back to Europe again.” Simon shrugged. “It was just as well. Who was your first husband? Beth’s father?”

“His name was Jack Crane. He was a stockbroker for Phlidick, Dammerleigh and Pierson. He was a big wheeler-dealer at the Chicago Stock Exchange.”

“Why’d you split up?”

She tried to just shrug it off, give him a throwaway smile, but it wasn’t possible. She drew a deep breath and said, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay, for now. Here we are. Keep your eyes open, Lily, I really have a bad feeling about this.” He turned right onto the narrow asphalt road that led to the cottage, looked back, and saw their protection turning in behind them.

No motorcycle.

Simon did a quick scan, didn’t see a thing. “I really don’t like this.”

“Maybe he just went into town to get some barbeque sauce to go with his snails.”

Simon didn’t think so, but he didn’t argue as they walked up to the cottage. The door wasn’t locked. He didn’t say a word, just picked Lily up under her armpits and moved her behind him. He opened the door slowly. It was gloomy inside, all the blinds pulled down. The room was completely empty-no stacked paintings against the walls, no easel, no palette, not even a drop of paint anywhere or the smell of turpentine, just empty.

“Check the kitchen, Lily. I’m going to look in the bedroom.” They met back in the empty living room five minutes later.

Agent Colin Smith stood in the open doorway. “No sign of Abe Turkle?”

Simon shook his head and said, “Nope. All that’s left is a box of Puffed Wheat, a bit of milk, not soured, and a couple of apples, still edible, so he hasn’t been gone long.”

Lily said, “He’s packed up and left. All his clothes, suitcase, everything gone, even his toothpaste.”

“Do you think he went to London with that painting he was finishing?”

“I hope not. It was really very good, too good.”

Colin Smith asked, “You were afraid he was dead, weren’t you? Murdered. Like Mr. Monk.”

Simon nodded. “I had a bad feeling there for a while. Let’s tell Lieutenant Dobbs about this. Agent Smith, if you’ll call Clark Hoyt, fill him in. You know, Abe had lots of stuff-at least thirty paintings leaning against the walls. All he had was a motorcycle. Maybe he rented a U-Haul to carry everything away.”

“Or maybe one of the Frasiers loaned him a truck.”

“Maybe. Now then, Agent Smith, Lily and I are off to pay a visit to Morrie Jones. I need to speak to Lieutenant Dobbs and the DA, get their okay. I’ve got an offer for Morrie he can’t refuse.”

Lily held up a hand. “No, I don’t want to know. Maybe by now they know who’s paying his lawyer.” Simon closed the cottage door and waved to Agent Smith.

“Don’t count on it,” Simon said as he set the pillow gently over Lily’s stomach and fastened the seat belt.

19

Saint John’s, Antigua

Public Administration Building,

near Reed Airport

“It’s so bright and hot and blue,” Sherlock said, scratching her arm. Then she sighed. “You know, Sean would really like this place. We could strip him down and play in that sand, build a castle with him, even a moat. I can just see him rolling over on the castle, flattening it, laughing all the while.”

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Sherlock realized Dillon wasn’t listening. She could only imagine what was going through his mind, all the ifs and buts. It was his show, and naturally he was worried, impossible not to be. They were working through the American Consular Agent with the Royal Police Force at Police Headquarters located on, strangely enough, American Road. But they were still in a foreign country, dealing with locals who were both bewildered by the extreme reaction of the United States federal cops-all fifty of them-to one woman, who only had one arm and was supposedly coming to their airport. But they were cooperating, really serious now after Savich had shown the entire group photos of her victims, including the latest one on Tortola. That one really brought it home.

Tammy couldn’t have gotten to Antigua before late morning, no way, even with a fast boat. Tortola was just too far away. The weather had been calm, no high winds or waves. She couldn’t have gotten here ahead of them, except by plane, and they’d been checking air traffic from Tortola and nearby islands. And there was no indication at all that she knew how to fly. They’d had time to get everything set up, to get everyone in position.