“I can give you two. There’s a place in Newport called the Black Pearl that’s supposed to serve the world’s best New England clam chowder. And we have to talk.”
“About what?”
“Not what,” Mitch corrected her. “Who.”
She drew her breath in, exasperated. “Okay, who?”
“Yogi Berra-as in it ain’t over till it’s over. Good night, Lieutenant.”
Mitch hung up the phone and flicked on his computer. A plan was forming in his mind. One that was ingenious and daring and foolproof. He began to write, setting the wheels of his plan in motion. As his fingers flew over the keyboard he realized he was so excited that he could barely sit still.
It would work. Mitch knew it would work.
He knew it because he had seen this movie before.
CHAPTER 18
MITCH BERGER’S HIGH RIDING, kidney-colored Studebaker pickup truck was not exactly hard to spot in the half-empty Stop amp; Shop parking lot. The man himself was seated there behind the steering wheel, drumming it nervously with his fingers when Des pulled into the empty space alongside of him.
He climbed out and got in next to her, looking rumpled and unshaven. His hair was uncombed, his sad puppy eyes red and puffy. “Morning, Lieutenant. How’s your cold?”
“It was never a cold. And I feel a whole lot better than you look, if you want to know the truth.”
“I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“Why all of this secrecy?” she demanded as the two of them sat there in her cruiser, engine idling.
“It’s important that no one on the island see us together.”
“You told me that already. What you didn’t tell me was why.”
“I’ve never been in a police car before,” he spoke up, glancing around at the interior with keen, sudden interest. “You don’t have an on-board computer?”
Des shook her head. “Mobile data terminals cost major bucks. And we’re a big public agency. The bigger they are, the slower they are at keeping current. The IRS is still using equipment that’s twenty years out of date.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“The only agency using equipment that’s even older is the FAA.”
“Well, that’s not,” Mitch said, his fingers busily probing the dashboard. “What’s this thing?”
“My radio.”
“And what does this do?”
“Stop touching my damned stuff, will you?!”
“Sorry, I’m a little wired this morning,” he said. “Kind of grouchy yourself, aren’t you?”
“I have excellent reason to be,” Des huffed, easing her car out onto Route 1 in the direction of the I-95 on- ramp.
Mostly, she was anxious. When Mitch had said there might be more to the Tal Bliss suicide, she had had to find out what it was. She desperately wanted there to be more-something, anything that would make her feel less responsible for his death. She also knew, down deep inside, that she had agreed to let Mitch tag along because she wanted to see him again. Although now that the man was sitting there next to her she could not imagine why. He was pudgy. He was strange. He dressed like a high school chemistry teacher. Plus he was edgy and annoying and way, way white.
Damn, girl, what were you thinking?
She steered them onto the highway, heading north. Newport was about an hour and a half ride up the coast, much of it through dropdead gorgeous little shoreline towns like Mystic and Stonington and Watch Hill, Rhode Island, which had the distinction of being home to the oldest merry-go-round in America. She settled into the right lane at a comfortable 60, a lengthy procession of cars and trucks falling cautiously into line behind her, and said, “Okay, you’re on. Talk at me.”
“You first,” he insisted. “Why are we going to Newport?”
“We’re going because Superintendent Crowther is the lunchtime speaker today at the annual convention of the Northeastern Association of Forensic Scientists. I can buttonhole him afterward. Otherwise, the man’s totally not accessible. Not unless I snag him outside his house, which would not be appropriate. It would be like I’m stalking him.”
“And this isn’t?”
“I have to talk to him,” Des said firmly.
“Why, what does he know?”
“What actually happened to Roy and Louisa Weems. The real story behind their deaths. The real story behind Dolly Peck’s rape.”
“Wait, Dolly was raped?”
“By Roy,” Des affirmed, glancing sidelong at him. “Tal Bliss found their bodies. Crowther was the investigating officer. His report was full of holes. That’s why I have to see him. I have to find out what he knows.”
“We both do.” Mitch rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Hot damn, my article just got a whole lot better.”
“What article?” she demanded sharply. “You didn’t tell me about any article.”
“I’m writing a piece for my paper’s Sunday magazine.”
“I thought you weren’t that kind of journalist.”
“I’m usually not. But this sort of thing doesn’t usually happen to me. So when they asked me, I said yes. Why, do you have a problem with it?”
“Hell, yes. When I agreed to let you tag along I didn’t realize you were acting as a member of the news media.”
“You’re not going to kick me out of the car now, are you?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she fumed angrily. “I sure as hell am.”
They rode on in charged silence. They were nearing Stonington, the one-time Portuguese fishing village near the Rhode Island state line that was now a yachter’s paradise. Lush green pastures and wetlands surrounded it, the Sound glittering in the distance. There were certainly worse places to be ditched. But it was still a long way from home. And the gentle blue morning sky was streaked with red along the horizon. A storm was due to arrive before nightfall.
“Look, I’ll fill you in on as much as I can,” Des said finally. “But I have to see the man alone. And you are not quoting me as a source on this particular aspect of the case. I am already in enough trouble. Deal?”
“Deal. Only, what makes you think he’ll talk to you?”
“He’ll talk to me.”
“Why, because your father is deputy superintendent?”
“That’s got nothing to do with anything.” She could feel Mitch’s eyes on her.
“How come you didn’t tell me about him?”
“Did you tell me about your people?”
“No,” he conceded. “No, I didn’t.”
“So why should I be telling you about mine? Besides, never mind about me. You’re the one who’s up now. Talk at me.”
“Not a chance,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If I tell you what I know before you talk to Crowther, then I’m handing you my only leverage. You’ll have zero reason to fill me in.”
“Um, okay, our relationship is deteriorating by the second here…”
“We haven’t got a relationship-not when it comes to business. First you talk to Crowther. Then I’ll talk. For now, let’s just enjoy the scenery. Beautiful part of the country, isn’t it?”
Des promptly pulled over onto the shoulder and came to a stop, seething.
“Hey, isn’t this illegal unless it’s an emergency?”
