said.
“How come you won’t tell me?” Amber said. “I know Suit. He’s one of the cops sits outside when you’re not here.”
“I don’t want to tell you,” Jesse said.
“Then don’t,” Amber said. “I don’t care.”
“You know how much the Crowne estate is worth?” Jesse said to Jenn.
“A real-estate appraiser says eight to ten million.”
“How about the Fiedlers?” Jesse said. “You know how much they’re worth?”
“No, you think it matters?”
“Might. If they’re worth a hundred million, the estate would be a drop in the bucket. If they’re worth a hundred and fifty thousand, it would be something else.”
“I just assumed they were rich,” Jenn said.
“They seem rich,” Jesse said. “Why does Mr. Fiedler travel?”
In the living room, Amber focused deeply on the television set.
“Haven’t found out yet,” Jenn said.
“Maybe Suit can find out,” Jesse said.
“The undercover man,” Jenn said, and smiled.
In the living room sprawled on the floor in front of the television Amber was silent, showing in every way she could how little she cared about the conversation.
56.
Molly lived close enough that she could walk to her home from Jesse’s condo. It was raining gently and darker than usual for the time of day in late summer. She had put a kerchief over her hair and wore a light yellow raincoat over her uniform. As she turned onto Munroe Street, Crow fell in beside her.
“Evening,” he said.
“Hello.”
“Who’s minding the kids?” Crow said.
“My mother,” Molly said. “My husband is in Newport.”
Why did I say that?
“Why?” Crow said.
“A boat he built got damaged in a storm,” Molly said. “The owner won’t let anyone else work on it.”
“Good at his work,” Crow said.
“Yes.”
Crow nodded. They passed the head of the wharf.
“Got time for a drink?” Crow said.
Molly paused. She felt it in her stomach and along her spine. She looked at her watch.
