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She kissed him gently when she came in.
“I’ll join you,” she said. “Thank God it’s evening.”
S E A C H A N G E
She went to the kitchen and got some white wine and brought it with her to the balcony and sat in the other chair.
It was late enough to be dark. Je
“Domestic,” Je
“That’s us,” Jesse said.
“I mean it,” Je
“I know,” Jesse said.
“Just sitting together,” Je
“Maybe I should buy a couple of rocking chairs,” Jesse said.
“And a shawl,” Je
Jesse looked at his glass.
“Nothing like a bracing club soda,” he said, “at moments like this.”
“You still miss it,” Je
“Every day.”
“Is it a physical craving?”
“No, never quite has been a craving,” Jesse said. “It’s just, I like it and I miss it.”
Je
“Like me,” she said.
“No,” Jesse said. “You’re a craving.”
They were quiet for a time. There was a dim sound of mu-1 0 1
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sic from among the moored boats in near shore. Across the harbor, they could see the ru
“Glad I’m ahead of Joh
Je
“You know,” Jesse said. “Craving is pretty much all about the craver and nothing about the cravee.”
“No shit,” Je
Je
Jesse felt the surge of desire. What was that about? He’d seen her naked a thousand times. He’d had sex with her a thousand times. Why did he feel this way because her skirt slid up her thighs? He’d always assumed such feelings were the result of normal masculine humanity.
“I’m leering at your thighs,” Jesse said.
“Good.”
“You want to be desired, you dress sexy, you look sexy, you want to be seen as sexy. We both know that.”
“And we both know you are making something out of nothing, Looney Tunes,” Je
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“Looney Tunes,” Jesse said.
“It’s like we don’t have problems anymore,” Je
“And you’re trying to invent some.”
Jesse wished he had a drink. He shrugged.
“Anyway,” Jesse said. “It was a loving leer.”
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22
M olly came into Jesse’s office and stood in front of his desk.
“I called the registrar at Emory,” she
said. “The Plum sisters haven’t been students there since first semester last year.”
“I assume they didn’t graduate.”
“No, they left school after first semester of their junior year.”
“Did they say why?”
“They didn’t say anything. They just ceased to be there.”
Molly smiled.
“They didn’t get the boot or anything?”
S E A C H A N G E
“No. Just stopped going.”
“Take all their belongings?” Jesse said.
“I don’t know. I can check back.”
“Please,” Jesse said.
Molly went out. Jesse picked up his phone and called Kelly Cruz in Fort Lauderdale.
“Know anything new about the Plum sisters?” Jesse said.
“Models of decorous southern behavior,” Kelly Cruz said.
“Decorous?”
“I’m taking a night course,” Kelly Cruz said, “at the com-munity college. So far that’s what I’ve learned.”
“Who says they’re, ah, decorous?” Jesse said.
“Mom and Dad.”
“You check with anyone else?”
“Not yet,” Kelly Cruz said. “I told you, this isn’t the big one on my caseload, you know? This is yours.”
“And here’s what I know,” Jesse said. “The Plum girls haven’t been in Europe looking at art. They’ve been in Sag Harbor, Long Island, partying. And they dropped out of Emory last fall.”
“But did they do it decorously?” Kelly Cruz said.
“I think we need to know more.”
“Wonder what else the parents don’t know?” Kelly Cruz said.
“Or do know and aren’t saying. What do you know about the three yachts registered in Fort Lauderdale?”
“Thomas Ralston, Allan Pinkton, Harold Berger,” Kelly Cruz said.
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“Wow,” Jesse said.
“Thank you,” Kelly Cruz said. “Berger is up there with his wife and three children. Pinkton has his grown daughters and their husbands aboard, along with their combined four children, and his wife.”
“How about Ralston.”
“Owns the Sea Cloud, ” Kelly Cruz said. “He’s single, up there with some guests.”
“Find anything on Harrison Darnell?”
“Family money,” she said. “Been rich for a couple genera-tions. Real estate development. Never married. Playboy rep-utation. No record.”
“Never married,” Jesse said.
“Everyone concurs that he’s straight, and actively so.”
“Hence the playboy rep,” Jesse said.
“Hence,” Kelly Cruz said.
“How about Darnell? Any co
“They’re about the same age,” Kelly Cruz said. “Single playboys who live in South Florida and own yachts which they sailed up to Paradise for Race Week. They could easily know each other.”
“Or not,” Jesse said.
“Or not,” Kelly Cruz said. “I’ll look into it.”
“How about the ex-husbands?”
“Aside from Horvath? Can’t find one of them. He’s not in the area, wherever he is. The other one is convinced she was a nymphomaniac.”
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S E A C H A N G E
“I don’t think we use that term anymore, do we?” Jesse said.
“This guy does, with an accent. He’s an Argentine polo player.”
“When were they married?”
“Nineteen ninety-four, ninety-five,” Kelly Cruz said.
“Divorced?”
“Nineteen ninety-five,” Kelly Cruz said. “Sex life was hurt-ing his game.”
“Tired all the time?”
“That’s what he says.”
“He get a nice settlement?” Jesse asked.
“Yes.”
“You know where he’s been the last couple of months?”
“Playing polo. Every day. In Miami. I checked the papers.
He was there.”
“There’s polo writeups in the papers down there?”
“You know what papers to look in,” Kelly Cruz said.
“Okay. So he’s not a prime suspect.”
“Too bad, I was hoping I’d need to interview him more.”
“Didn’t you say you had kids?”
“I did, but no husband.”
“And rich polo players make notoriously good fathers,”
Jesse said.
“Notoriously,” Kelly Cruz said.
“What you need to do,” Jesse said, “is see if there’s a co
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“No more Miss Nice Girl?” Kelly Cruz said.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, I need to do that,” Kelly Cruz said. “What do you need?”
“I need to get a look at their boats,” Jesse said.
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