“Meaning what, he flunked your coolness test?”
“We lived in the same house-period.”
“You also worked together, didn’t you?”
“We didn’t work
“Are you hoping to become a full-time carrier?”
“I’m hoping you’ll go back upstairs and leave me the hell alone.”
“Suit yourself. Nice talking to you. Actually, I lied. No, it wasn’t.” Mitch started back toward the stairs.
“Wait a sec,” Casey said, allowing a tiny trace of hopefulness to creep into his voice. “Did Josie give you a message for me?”
“No, she didn’t. But I haven’t spoken to her today.”
“Yeah, you have.”
“So now you’re calling me a liar?”
“I’m betting a million bucks she asked you to tell me something. And
“Don’t ever bet with real money, Casey. You suck as a gambler.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He peered at Mitch with those nonpenetrating eyes of his. “Are you two getting it on?”
“Josie and I are nothing more than friends. I told you that yesterday.”
“I didn’t believe you yesterday. Still don’t.”
“That’s fine. I won’t bother to set you straight. There’s no point, since you’ve already got life all figured out. Hell, you’re sitting here in your mom’s basement watching TV in your jammies and you’re, what, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“When I was twenty-eight I was freelancing for two different magazines, teaching a class at NYU and finishing up my first movie encyclopedia.”
“Goodie for you, asshole.”
“I’m not bragging. I’m just saying that there was so much I wanted to do every single hour of every single day. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do?”
“Yeah, there is. I’d like to sit here without you hassling me. Jesus, you’re as bad as Hank. He was always on me about how I should be
“You take advice from Josie, don’t you? What does she tell you to do?”
Casey reached for a pack of Marlboros and found it empty. Crumpled it and tossed it aside. “She doesn’t
“To do what?”
He shrugged. “Be more assertive.”
“Is that why you gave her a black eye?”
“That was an accident. And I can’t believe she told you about it.”
“She didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“You did,” Mitch replied. “Just now.”
For a second, Casey looked as if he wanted to tear Mitch’s head off. But he’d already tried that yesterday and ended up with his face frozen to the causeway. So instead he stuck out his chin and said, “I guess you think you’re pretty smart. Trust me, you don’t know shit.”
“I know that you’re in love with Josie.”
“I
“Then why did you ask me about her?”
Casey said nothing to that. Just sat there in petulant silence.
Mitch glanced back down at the pile of NFL stats next to his chair. “Are you into the Patriots or the Giants?” Since Dorset was situated halfway between Boston and New York, its residents’ team loyalties were divided right down the middle.
“Patriots,” Casey grunted. “The Giants play down to the level of their competition. Hardly ever cover the spread.”
“It sounds like you’re in an office betting pool. Am I right?”
Casey had had enough. He got up out of the sagging chair and took off his robe. He wore an ancient Metallica T-shirt and long johns under it. He dug a Patriots hoodie and a pair of sweatpants out of a rumpled pile of clothing on the floor and put them on. Then he made his way upstairs to the TV room, where Paulette and Rut sat talking quietly. Mitch followed him.
“I’m going out for a while, Mom.”
Paulette frowned at him. “Where to?”
“Got some errands to run. I’m out of smokes, for one thing.”
“Okay, son. Would you mind getting me two packs of Merits?”
“Are you going to give me some money?”
Paulette fetched her wallet from the kitchen table and removed a twenty-dollar bill from it. “Just do me one small favor, will you?”
He rolled his eyes. “What is it?”
“Don’t spend the whole afternoon at the Rustic. I need you here, okay?”
“Whatever.” He snatched the money from her and stormed out of the house.
Paulette sat back down, a distraught expression on her face as she listened to Casey start up his pickup and go roaring off.
Rut reached over from the recliner next to hers and patted her hand. “Hank was a real fine fellow. Try to remember the good times you two had together.”
She glanced at him curiously. “I always thought you didn’t approve of Hank.”
“That’s not true at all. Hank was okay. I was just jealous. I’d be jealous of any man who’s lucky enough to wake up and see your shining face right there next to him every morning.”
“You’re a silly old man, Rutherford.”
Rut smiled faintly, his eighty-two-year-old heart overflowing with the hopeless, unrequited love that he’d kept to himself for all of these years. Briefly, Mitch thought he might tell Paulette how he genuinely felt. But Rut didn’t, couldn’t. Just nodded his tufty white head and said, “That’s me, all right-silly.”
CHAPTER 13
The world-class pissing contest-more commonly known as a team meeting-was held in the auxiliary conference room of Dorset’s Town Hall, a stately white-columned edifice that smelled all year round of mothballs, musty carpeting and Ben-Gay. Everyone was there at nine o’clock sharp with the noticeable exception of the agent from the FBI, who Des had no doubt would start throwing his weight around as soon as he walked in. The bureau was incredibly dependable that way.
Four members of the Connecticut State Police were in attendance: Des, Yolie, Toni and Capt. Joey Amalfitano, a rumpled old-timer who was with the Narcotics Task Force. Des had worked a drug case with Amalfitano on Sour Cherry Lane last spring. Everyone called him The Aardvark due to his huge, down-turned snout of a nose. Des thought of him more as a weasel.
The U.S. Postal Service had sent Inspector Sam Questa from New York City. Questa was in his late forties and bore a startling resemblance to Fred Flintstone. His huge, blunt featured head was set directly atop a massive torso with almost a complete absence of anything resembling a neck. Seated there at the conference table, Questa gave the impression of being a large man. Yet Des doubted he stood much taller than five-feet-four. He had the stubbiest little arms and legs she’d ever seen. She could not imagine how the man found clothing to fit him. He wore a plain gray suit, white shirt and muted tie. Kept his gleaming black hair combed carefully in place, but didn’t do nearly as good a job of keeping his emotions in check. He glanced repeatedly at his watch, growing more and
