mother more than anything in the world. Don’t you think I’d make a good mother?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, I do, because I know what’s in my heart. Besides, the procedure he had is totally reversible. God, I don’t believe he’s trying topeddle such crap! Wait, what am I saying? Of course I do. This is Jeffrey we’re talking about.”
“My sense is that he really doesn’t want to dish, Abby. In fact, I don’t believe he will. But he’s in a tight spot financially.”
Abby recoiled, shaking her finger at him. “Wait one lousy minute. Now I know why you’re here-you’re trying to strong-arm me! Sure, that’s it. You came here to tell me that if I don’t show up at his crummy store he’ll go to the tabloids. You’re his stinking messenger boy, aren’t you? Tell me I’m wrong, Mitch. Go ahead!”
“Okay, you’re wrong. The thought never even occurred to me.”
“Maybe it didn’t,” she conceded. “But I can guarantee you that it occurred to him.”
“Abby, that’s really not how I read the situation.”
“Then you’d better go get your eyes checked, cookie. I know Jeffrey. I know how his mind works. And he’s telling me, through you, that if I don’t do this for him he’ll sell me out.”
“But he swore he wouldn’t,” Mitch pointed out. “He told me you were the only woman he’s ever loved, and that he’d take you back in a second.”
“And you believed him?” Abby demanded incredulously.
Mitch drained his milkshake and slumped there in the booth, suddenly feeling profoundly deflated and used up. “Abby, I honestly don’t know who to believe anymore.”
“If I were you,” Mitch advised, feeling the gentle lift and dip of the swell beneath him, “I’d do some checking up on Abby Kaminsky’s whereabouts the past couple of days. Or, more specifically, nights.”
“Jeff’s ex-wife?” asked Des, who was floating on her back next to him, wet skin gleaming in the moonlight. “Why is that?”
“Because she slept with Tito Molina.”
“No way. Her, too?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You think she might be involved in this?”
“She’s certainly in the mix. Quite the humid little pepper pot, too.”
The two of them were enjoying a late-night skinny dip off BigSister’s private beach. The water was bracing and the night air had turned gloriously crisp and clear. Overhead, the moon was full, the stars bright.
Mitch had spent much of the evening seated there on his favorite beach log, gloomily sampling the bottle of peppermint schnapps he’d bought out of morbid curiosity. It tasted awful, in his opinion. Strangely familiar as well, although he could not imagine why. Des had pulled up outside his carriage house at around ten o’clock and joined him on the beach a few minutes later, clutching two cold Bass ales and two towels.
He had never been happier to see her in his life.
As they floated there naked in the moonlight, the lights of the town a glow in the distance, Mitch reminded himself just how lucky he was to be here on this night with this woman. It was the one positive thing he had taken from losing Maisie the way he had-not a day went by when he took the good things for granted.
“How did you happen to meet up with said humid little pepper pot?”
“Jealous?”
“I’ll ask the questions, mister.”
“Jeff asked me to look her up. He wants her to sign books at his store.”
“Since when do you do Jeff’s bidding for him?”
“Since everything stopped making sense. I need for this to make sense.”
“It may not, Mitch. A lot of times things just get more and more confusing.”
“That’s not what I need to hear tonight, Des. Tonight I need to hear that life is nothing but one big long Frank Capra movie. And I actually detest Frank Capra-with the possible exception of Dirigible with Jack Holt and Fay Wray.”
“My miss,” she said, flashing a smile at him. “And thanks for the heads-up. I’ll pass it along to Rico.”
“Abby’s been sleeping with her escort, too-a big goon named Frankie. I don’t know his last name, but he might be worth lookinginto. Meanwhile, get this, Jeff’s actually been two-timing Martine with her very own-”
“With Esme. Yes, I know.”
“Esme told you?”
“She had to. Jeff’s her alibi. And, believe me, the news came as a real unpleasant surprise to Martine. I had to pull her off of the girl.”
“What did Jeff say about it?”
“He backs Esme up all the way. At the time of Tito’s death, she was getting busy with him at his condo. Yolie and I confirmed it with him this afternoon.”
“Hmm, that means each of them is the other’s alibi…”
“Where do you think you’re going with that?”
“Nowhere,” Mitch said, as they floated along. “Except, well, what if Esme and Jeff killed Tito together?”
“Why would they?”
“Revenge. He hated Tito for getting it on with Abby. Esme hated him because he beat on her and cheated on her. Do we know for a fact that Tito’s killer acted alone?”
“Mitch, we don’t know anything for a fact,” she said wearily, glancing over at him. “You cast an awesome glow in the moonlight, you know that?”
“You’ve obviously never gone skinny-dipping with a white boy when the moon was full.”
“No, I’m serious, Mitch. Check out your stomach-you look like you’ve swallowed something radioactive.”
“Only because my stomach happens to be sticking up out of the water,” Mitch growled at her. “But thanks for pointing it out to me, slats.”
“What I’m here for, doughboy,” she said sweetly. “Got anything else for me?”
He fed her the highlights of his morning. How he and Will had walked in on Dodge and Becca having rough sex together. How Becca had told him she and Dodge were taking a midnight stroll on the beach together when Tito died, meaning that he had someone to vouch for his whereabouts-and Martine very likely didn’t.
“Why would Martine want to kill her own son-in-law?” she wondered.
“Maybe she was romantically involved with Tito, too. Maybe he broke her poor, cheatin’ heart. It makes about as much sense as Martine and Esme both having extramarital affairs with Jeff Wachtell. I mean, once you get your mind around that unwholesome factoid nothing seems out of the realm of possibility, does it?”
“Now that you mention it, no.”
“Did Esme know about Jeff and her mom?”
“Totally, judging by the little smirk on her face when she gave out with the news. It was her own special way of inflicting pain on mommy dearest. For what specific reason I don’t know.”
“I do, Des,” Mitch said quietly. And now he told her about how Dodge started molesting Esme when she was fifteen. How Martine had refused to believe her. How Esme had attempted suicide. How Dodge had long been a plague on Dorset’s young girls and Will had been his enabler, in exchange for future considerations.
Des listened in stony silence before she said, “Well, that does explain the way Esme reacted this morning when Martine smacked her.”
“How did she?…”
“Like she’d been getting smacked around her whole life.”
“What, you think Dodge beat her up?”
“Believe me, a bright, beautiful fifteen-year-old girl doesn’t spread her legs for daddy without a fight. I’m with you, Mitch-she hates her mom for not protecting her. But I don’t buy that Martine didn’t know what was going on. She knew. That’s why she was so anxious to go to the police this morning. Because the longer this drags out, the deeper we’ll dig. And she’s terrified we’ll unearth it. How did you hear about it, anyway?”
“From Bitsy. Becca told her. I don’t think anyone else knows, except for Will.”
“And possibly Tito. Esme may have told him.”
Mitch glanced over at her, wondering where her mind was going. “Bitsy said I could tell you this. Does Soave have to know about it?”
