to you this way-are you at least taking a good, hard look at Mitch Berger as your killer?”
“Why do you say killer?” Soave fired back. “We’re investigating an unexplained death, remember? Or do you know something we don’t know?”
“I know that he’s very well connected.” Chrissie stared right at Des as she said this, purposely trying to push her buttons. “I know that he and Tito really threw down at The Works.”
“Tito threw down,” Des corrected her. “Mitch hit the deck.”
“All the more reason for him to come after Tito that night,” Chrissie went on. “The man was publicly humiliated. Guys hate that. It drives them nuts. Seriously, shouldn’t you be talking to him?”
“We have talked to him,” Yolie blurted out.
“Really, what did he say?” Chrissie asked eagerly, smelling a choice morsel she could feed to the hungry horde outside.
“We’re talking to everybody,” Soave said brusquely, shooting a warning look at his young partner. Boom Boom still had a lot to learn about the Chrissie Hubermans of the world.
“And I sure do hope I don’t pick up the paper tomorrow and read that we’re focusing our attention on him,” Des added in a low, steely voice. “ ‘According to a high-level source close to the investigation.’ ”
“You have to admit it makes a good story,” Chrissie said.
“Good for who, girl?”
“You do your job, I do mine.”
“I’m down with that, only maybe you ought to pull into Jiffy Lube and get your value system checked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you are not going to pump up the volume by trashingMitch Berger,” Des told her. “If you try that I will come after you and I will put you in the hospital.”
“You’re a law officer,” Chrissie objected. “You can’t threaten me that way.”
“This isn’t the badge talking. This is me. Do we understand each other?”
“Sure, whatever. I mean, God, it’s so obvious that you people have nothing.”
“We’re talking to everybody,” Soave repeated coldly. “We’re especially interested in Tito’s lovers.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” she said. “A meaningless fling-that’s all we had, I swear. Why would I lie to you about it? I have no reason to.”
“You have every reason to,” Des countered. “Not only were you and Tito involved but you have no one to vouch for your whereabouts at the time of his death.”
Chrissie sat there in heavy silence for a moment. “You’re right, I don’t. So I can’t help you or myself. Live and learn. The one night when it would have paid for me to drag a warm body home, I have to hop into bed with my cold hard cell phone. There’s a valuable lesson to be learned here.”
“What lesson is that, Miss Huberman?” Soave asked.
“If you don’t watch out, being a good girl can get you in a whole lot of trouble,” she replied. “Now can I get the hell out of here? I have a client who needs me.”
CHAPTER 11
“Why would Becca let Dodge treat her that way?” Mitch asked Bitsy Peck as the two of them sat there in rocking chairs on her shaded porch, gazing out at the dead calm Sound. “What was she even doing there?”
“Mitch, that man has always had a peculiar power over her,” Bitsy replied, sipping her iced tea. “It’s something I had to face up to a long time ago. When it comes to Becca, Dodge is leaning on an open door. She’s weak and she’s pliable and she so wants to please him. He was her first, you see.”
“Her first lover?”
“Love had nothing to do with it,” Bitsy said bitterly.
Becca hadn’t said a word the whole way home in Mitch’s truck. Just sat there in between Mitch and Will, staring out the windshield as if she were in a trance. And she smelled bad-rank and coppery, like a handful of moist, dirty pennies. Will was very quiet himself. He seemed terribly upset by the scene they’d walked in on.
As for Mitch, he could not get over that this shell-shocked, twenty-three-year-old recovering heroin addict was Dodge’s idea of a lover. True, Becca was a consenting adult, as Dodge had taken pains to point out. But strictly in a legal sense. In a human sense, she was a lost little girl. What was she to Dodge-someone who he cared about? Or merely a limp rag he could tie up and plug to his heart’s content? Mitch had no idea. How could he?
He obviously didn’t know Dodge Crockett at all.
When he pulled up next to Will’s van at the entrance to Peck’s Point, Mitch told Becca he’d be right back, then hopped out with him, and said, “Will, did you have an idea that this was going on?” Keeping his voice low.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Will unlocked his van and got in.
“You seemed so worried about Dodge not showing up. Did you know about him and Becca?”
Will didn’t respond. Just started up his engine and sat there behind the wheel, a remote and silent keeper of secrets.
Mitch found himself wondering what those secrets were. What else did Will know about the man? How much was he holding on to?
“Don’t judge him, Mitch,” Will said, putting his van in gear. “The man’s not perfect, but here’s some news for you-none of us are.”
Then he’d driven off and Mitch had taken Becca across the causeway to Big Sister, where a silver VW Beetle was parked outside of the Pecks’ sprawling summer cottage.
Esme was seated there cross-legged on the veranda in a string bikini, calmly shucking peas with Bitsy, her signature mane of tousled blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Mitch couldn’t get over how much the beautiful actress resembled a ten-year-old child as she sat there intently popping open the pea pods, her pink tongue flicking distractedly at her raw, swollen lip. She had a girl’s tiny, delicate ears and snub nose, a girl’s blond peach fuzz on her tummy. But she was not a girl. She was a lithe, voluptuous woman who had cheekbones the camera loved, an Academy Award to call her own, and a very famous, very dead husband.
As he stood there looking at her, Mitch noticed that Esme Crockett also had thin, faint white scars on the inside of each of her wrists.
“Hey, girlfriend!” the actress called to Becca, smiling at her warmly. Until, that is, she spotted the thousand- yard stare coming from her old school chum. Then Esme said no more-just put down the bowl of shucked peas, hopped nimbly to her bare feet, and led Becca inside the house by the hand.
“She wasn’t… isn’t on drugs, is she, Mitch?” Bitsy had asked him first thing, her eyes wide with fright.
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I only worry about that girl every minute of every day. I don’t suppose you feel like telling me what happened to her, do you?”
Mitch hadn’t felt like telling her one bit. “What brings Esme by?”
“The poor dear’s having such a hard time, what with the police and the media and the grief. She needed a bit of a breather,” Bitsy said, fanning herself with her floppy straw hat. “We’ve been sitting here shucking peas and making girl talk, just like we used to.”
Esme came padding back out onto the porch, alone. “Becca’s taking a hot shower,” she said, reaching for a man’s white dress shirt to throw on. “I’d better get going. Mommy will freak out if I’m gone for long.”
“I’m sorry about Tito, Esme,” Mitch said.
“I know you are,” she said coolly. “Everyone is.”
“What I mean is, I liked him.”
Esme glanced at him searchingly, as if she were noticing him for the first time. “Thank you.” Then she went over to Bitsy and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, Bits.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Bitsy said affectionately. “Come back any time. You’re always welcome.”
Then the actress had headed off and Bitsy had asked Mitch, once again, what had happened to Becca. And so Mitch told her, Bitsy’s round cheeks mottling with anger as he detailed where and how they had found her.
“Dodge has always had a thing for teenaged girls,” Bitsy revealed to him now as they rocked back and forth, the floorboards creaking under them. “Some men can’t be trusted with other men’s wives. Dodge Crockett can’t be
