know that they went with Mickey Dolenz over me at the very last minute?”
“No, I did not.”
“It’s the absolute truth. I had the part. They told me I had it-for twenty-four blissful hours I was actually a Monkee. And then, just like that, I wasn’t. They wanted a new face, was what my agent said. God, I was bitter. It is not easy to be told you’re an old face when you still can’t buy a drink or vote. I was washed up at twenty, Mitch. When I didn’t get The Monkees-that’s when I knew.” He let out a heavy sigh. “That’s also when I started getting heavily into drugs.”
They seemed to be slowing a little now. Evan took over the tiller from Jamie, but to no avail. “The wind’s shifting,” Evan said. “Let’s come about.” He immediately started busying himself with the lines.
“What do I do?” Mitch asked.
“You duck,” Jamie ordered sharply.
Mitch did-just as the boom swung directly over his head.
Soon, they were zipping through the water again.
They were approaching a tiny speck of an island-not much more than a heap of rocks with a light tower on it. Cormorants perched on the tower. There was a crude dock. Jamie steered them directly for it, nudging the sailboat up gently next to the piling. Evan hopped out and tied them to it. Mitch hopped out as well, grateful to have something firm under his feet again.
“Do they mind people docking out here?” he asked Evan.
“Does who mind, Mitch?”
“Whoever owns it.”
“I own it,” Evan said modestly. “This is Little Sister. It became mine when I turned twenty-one.” He glanced around at it a moment, hands on his slim hips. “We camp out here fairly often. Sleep under the stars. It’s just incredibly peaceful. I’d love to build a cabin out here someday.”
They had brought a portable barbeque to grill on. Evan got busy lighting the coals while Jamie uncorked a cold bottle of Sancerre and poured three glasses.
After he had handed them around Jamie lit a cigarette and stretched out on the dock, watching his young lover with a mixture of affection and apprehension. “You may as well know, Mitch, that Evan and I have been spatting. He wasn’t planning to go to Seymour’s funeral. I told him it was fine by me, since I’m not planning to go. Only now he’s decided he will go, out of respect for Dolly. I think he’s being a complete hypocrite. What do you think?”
Mostly, Mitch thought that he did not want to get caught in the middle. “How did you feel about your stepfather?” he asked Evan.
“First of all, I didn’t consider him my stepfather,” Evan replied angrily. “Just some low-life sleaze she was living with. I honestly don’t understand why she married him.”
“Possibly, he was exceedingly well hung,” Jamie suggested.
“Jaymo, that’s my mother you’re talking about,” Evan said indignantly.
“I know, but she is something of a cunning little user, our Dolly,” Jamie observed, puffing on his cigarette. “That helpless act of hers, designed to make every man she meets go four paws up. It amazes me it works. But it does work. Why, I’ll bet she’s even hit on our young friend here.”
“Not really. All she’s done is ask me to open her pimientos for her.”
Jamie let out a huge guffaw. “Let me guess-she was wearing something low-cut at the time. Am I right?”
He was, but Mitch didn’t feel like touching that one in front of Evan. He sat there perched on a rock, sipping his wine and wondering if Jamie was on to something. Was Dolly a scheming manipulator? She certainly did have Bud jumping through flaming hoops for her. Maybe she had persuaded him to raid those accounts for her. Maybe that wasn’t all she’d persuaded him to do. Maybe he had killed for her.
“So spill, you tight-lipped cipher,” Jamie commanded Mitch. “What did Lieutenant Mitry say? Whom does she suspect? Dish, damn it.”
“Well, there’s a third victim. Same gun. Her name was Torry Mordarksi.”
“My God,” Evan gasped.
Mitch looked at him in surprise. “You knew her?”
“No, no.” Evan came over with the wine and refilled their glasses. “But I do remember her murder-it was on the news a few weeks ago. She was real pretty and she had a nice little boy who she was raising by herself. I just thought it was so sad.”
“Where did this one happen?” Jamie asked.
“They found her body in the woods somewhere near Meriden,” Evan replied.
Jamie stiffened. “No way. Niles bragged to me once that he had a girlfriend up in Meriden…”
“He did?” said Evan. “You never told me that.”
“He even went into graphic detail about how she used to suck on his dick,” Jamie went on, his voice rising angrily. “The crude, homophobic bastard wanted to know if I thought a man could ever be as good at it as a woman.” He stubbed out his cigarette, glancing at Evan. “I didn’t say anything to you about it because I thought you’d get upset.”
“Does the lieutenant know about this?” Mitch broke in.
“Absolutely,” Jamie replied. “I told her sergeant person, that short one with the muscles and the fuzzy lip.”
“And…?”
“He didn’t react one bit. But they never do, do they?” Jamie’s eyes gleamed at Mitch intently now. “Let’s not kid each other, Mitch. Does she suspect either one of us?”
Mitch sipped his wine uneasily. It had just occurred to him, with a sinking feeling, that he had not been very smart. Here he was, alone on this deserted island with two of the prime suspects. No one knew they were out here together. If they were to murder him and dump his body overboard into the Sound not a soul would ever know. “She knows that you disliked him. But she gave me no indication that you were at the top of her list.”
Jamie said, “If Bud Havenhurst had one ounce of nerve he’d be her most logical suspect. Hell, he had more reason than any of us to despise Niles. But I just can’t imagine him killing anyone. He hasn’t the cojones.”
Evan poked at the coals. Judged them ready. Put the tuna steaks on the grill, where they immediately began to sizzle. “I agree. Mandy is way more the type. Hot-blooded. High-strung. Tough as nails.”
“Okay, what if Mandy was boinking Niles on the side,” Jamie speculated aloud. “And when she found out that he was two-timing her with Torry, she killed them both.”
“But what about Weems?” Evan wondered. “Why’d she kill Tuck?”
“He found out,” Jamie answered. “Saw her burying the body in the garden.”
“Why bury it in the garden?” Evan persisted.
Jamie had no answer to that one. Stymied, he turned to Mitch.
“Clearly, whoever did it assumed that it wouldn’t be dug up,” Mitch said. “My being there was not part of the original equation. But I do have to admit that the same question has occurred to me. Why the garden? Why not dump Niles out in the Sound somewhere?”
“Bodies have a way of washing ashore,” Jamie pointed out.
“Okay, then why not bury him in the woods?”
“Couldn’t take the chance of transporting him,” Jamie suggested. “He was buried in the garden because he was shot near the garden. Must be.”
“Suggesting he was killed in Dolly’s house,” Mitch mused aloud. “Or in her barn.”
“Or in your carriage house,” Evan added.
Mitch fell silent. That was not a thought he wanted to dwell upon.
“Surely the lieutenant must have someone in mind,” Jamie said to him.
“Judging by the direction her questions were taking,” Mitch said, “it would seem that her leading candidate is Dolly.”
“Not a chance,” Evan said. “My mother is not capable of doing that.”
“No one is, my boy,” Jamie said darkly. “Until they do it. Me, I keep thinking about Red.”
“What about Red?” asked Mitch.
“He logs four flights a month, right? That means he’s gone four days a week, every week. Face it, Red’s got
