Maximum Security

He laughs. “Tomorrow,” he says, “I swear. We didn’t finish with the truck until late today and I don’t have class tomorrow until ten. I’ll go up in the morning.”

“And back in the afternoon,” I tell him.

He props himself up a little and looks at me, baffled. He’s his mother’s son. “Tomorrow is Friday,” I remind him.

He sits up straighter and counts—days, I presume—on his fingertips. “Cool,” he says when he finishes, a surprised look on his face. “It’s the weekend.”

Maybe his father is right after all.

Harry returns and settles on the floor again. Without hesitating, he moves a rook and then smiles at Luke.

Luke jumps up from the couch and gapes at the board. “I don’t believe it,” he says.

Harry’s smile widens. “Inspiration. You just never know when it’s going to hit.”

Luke sinks to the floor to plot his next move.

“Speaking of inspiration,” Harry says, looking up at me, “that was quite a performance we saw today, huh?” His upper body stiffens and he falls over sideways, a half-baked imitation of Anastasia’s collapse.

“That part wasn’t a performance,” I tell him, “but the keening sure was.”

“The fainting was too,” he says, falling over again. “Trust me. She’s up for an Oscar.”

“How could anyone fake a faint? She’d have instinctively reached out to break her fall.”

“The ski

“You?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, looking forlorn. “That mean lady with the eyes said I couldn’t come to her party. She hurt my feelings.”

“I wonder how the mean lady’s luncheon went. I’m guessing Anastasia doesn’t shine in the hostess department.”

“I wondered too,” he says, “so I drove by there about an hour and a half after we got back to the office.”

“You drove by there?” No one drives by Easy Street. It’s not on the way to anywhere.

He shrugs. “I was curious. Anyhow, all the guests had already left by the time I got there. Just one car in the driveway, a jalopy. Aside from that heap, the place looks like a magazine cover. No more cops. No more yellow tape. It looks like the goddamned Cleavers live there.”

“Right now Anastasia Rawlings and Lance Phillips live there,” I tell him. “A far cry from the Cleavers.”

“The Addams Family?” he tries.

“Now you’re talking. And now that Morticia and company have set up camp in there, I’m wondering if Louisa will ever be able to get them out.”

Harry looks up at me and shrugs. “It might not matter in the long run.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your move,” Luke a

“If Louisa goes to prison,” Harry says, focusing on the chess-board again, “the house will pass to Morticia anyhow. Along with everything else her father owned.”

He looks up at me again and I shake my head. “Why do you say that? Anastasia is specifically excluded from Herb Rawlings’s will.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry leans back against the overstuffed chair behind him and Luke groans.

“If Louisa is the sole beneficiary of Herb’s will,” Harry continues, “and she’s convicted of his murder, the will is automatically null and void. It’s as if he died without one, intestate. And if he had died intestate, Anastasia would have inherited the whole kit and caboodle—aside from the government’s take, anyhow—because she’s his only child.”

I knew that, of course. But I hadn’t given it a thought until now. And I’m astounded that Harry knows it. It’s not the kind of information that normally interests him. “Now who’s the nerd?” I ask. “Don’t tell me you actually attended your trusts and estates classes?”

“Hell, no.” The look on Harry’s face suggests I accused him of showing up for ballet lessons—in a pink tutu. “That’s one of the many legal principles I learned when I got out of law school,” he says, “about ten years out, as a matter of fact. I was assigned to a guy who couldn’t wait to get his mitts on his wife’s family money. She’d left him everything in her will, but dammit, she just wouldn’t die fast enough. So he fed her a lethal overdose of barbiturates with her nightly highballs. Then he realized he couldn’t move the body.”

“Speaking of moving,” Luke interjects, “why don’t you?”

“I don’t remember anymore,” Harry continues, “but I guess she must’ve been a full-figured gal.”

Luke groans again.

“’Course, my guy wasn’t exactly Atlas,” Harry adds.

“Bet he could’ve lifted one of those pawns,” Luke mumbles.

Their banter continues, but I’m not listening anymore. I’m registering that feeling again: my stomach ru

I had been talking to myself, really, but Harry nods anyway. “That’s why her schmo of a husband ended up in the Public Defender’s Office.” He looks over at Luke and arches his eyebrows. “The guy wasn’t playing with a full deck.”

“At least he was playing,” Luke answers.

I move Da

“Don’t worry,” Luke says, “take your time. We’ll be here. Right here. Right in this very spot.”

Harry looks like he’s full of questions, but I’m not hanging around to answer them.

The Herb Rawlings jigsaw puzzle isn’t finished yet, but the border pieces are starting to co

Taylor Peterson’s words come back to me as I start the Thunderbird and back out in the moonlight. He was wrong about Herb Rawlings being at the helm when the Carolina Girl left the dock. But he was right about a few other things. Whoever dumped Herb’s body in the Great South Cha

CHAPTER 31

The full moon bathes Easy Street in a pale yellow glow and scores of stars light the sky. I don’t give a damn about the scenery at the moment, but I am glad to be able to leave my flashlight behind in the glove compartment. Free hands seem like a good idea—I might need them to strangle Lucifer. I pat the small weight of the Lady Smith in my inside jacket pocket, cut the engine, and get out of the car.

I’m parked at number two, the saltbox, behind a row of hydrangeas on the side. My tires aren’t doing anything good for the manicured grass, but I can’t worry about landscaping right now. It occurs to me as I hurry down the hill toward number one that Louisa might have to foot the bill for her part-time neighbor’s lawn repair. And if my hunch is even close to accurate, she’ll have plenty of cash to cover it.

The forecast Judge Long mentioned was on target. It’s cold. For the first time this fall, I can see my breath. And as I get closer to the water, the wind picks up, making it feel even colder. I zip my jacket to the top and pull my hat down over my ears.

The jalopy Harry talked about isn’t in Louisa’s driveway. I’m hoping Lance took the little lady—and her mini-poodle—out to di