At the mention of her husband’s name Carolyn reached for a cigarette and lit it, her hands shaking badly. Then she sat back in her chair, one slender, dirty foot propped up on the table. She wore no panties under her T- shirt yet didn’t seem to care that she was flashing her goodies. Her long leg started twitching as she sat there pulling anxiously on her cigarette. She was sweating. And grinding her teeth. And picking at the skin on her face with her fingers.
Carolyn Procter: Portrait of a tweaker.
There was no doubt in Des’s mind that Carolyn Procter had gotten herself hooked on crystal meth, which kept you up, up, up for twelve or more hours straight, then sent you crashing into the shaky, agitated state Des found her in now. True, a woman who was as accomplished and classy as Carolyn hardly seemed the type. But Des had learned long ago that when it came to dope there was no type. And crystal meth was very popular around the casinos. Gamblers got off on its all-night rush.
She was shaking her head at Des in confusion. “You said…” Her voice seemed disconnected, as if the words had to travel several time zones from her brain. “Something about… Richard?”
“Yes, ma’am. I found him today out on Big Sister Island. I’m afraid he’s been in a fight of some kind.”
“He swung at me first.” Clay spoke up defensively. “And if he says otherwise he’s-”
“Professor Procter’s not saying much of anything right now, actually. He’s quite dazed and despondent.”
“I was just standing up for myself,” he went on. “And, speaking candidly, I don’t see any place for the law in this.”
“Mr. Mundy, no one is swearing out a complaint. I’m simply trying to help. So why don’t you just tell me what happened, okay?”
Clay shrugged his shoulders. “Not much to tell. He stopped by a few nights back and we had us a little scuffle out in the driveway.”
“Over…?”
“Him refusing to accept the new reality of his situation.”
“When I encountered him today he kept mumbling, ‘They both threw me out.’ By ‘they’ he was referring to Carolyn and you?”
“That’s right,” Clay confirmed. “I was trying to set the man straight, you know? And maybe things got a bit rough. But he started it. And he seemed okay when he took off. I wouldn’t have let him go if I thought he was in bad shape. That’s not my style at all. I try to get along with people. Right, hon?”
Carolyn didn’t answer him. Didn’t seem to hear him. Just sat there, bare leg twitching, cigarette burning down in her fingers.
“He’s been admitted to Connecticut Valley Hospital for observation,” Des informed her. “When he’s released he’ll need to be in a supervised home setting. Any idea who he can stay with?”
Slowly, Carolyn stubbed out her cigarette in a ceramic ashtray full of butts. Then she hurled the ashtray against the kitchen wall, shattering it and sending butts and ashes flying everywhere. “Not here!” she screamed, her eyes blazing with rage. “He can’t stay here!”
“That’s fine,” Des said to her gently. “I understand perfectly. Does he have any other family in the area?”
“Not… here,” she repeated, quieter this time. Slowly, she got back on her feet and weaved her way back toward the bedroom.
“That’s right, you get yourself back into bed,” Clay called after her. To Des he said, “Poor girl. Those viruses sure can hang on sometimes.”
“Yes, they certainly can,” Des said, starting for the front door.
Clay stayed right with her. “Real sorry about this business with the professor, ma’am. It was just one of those things. I had no idea he’d take it so hard, being he’s such an educated guy and all.”
Hector was still sitting on the front steps, burly shoulders hunched over a stock car magazine.
“Maybe you’re better off being a dumb ass like me,” Clay added with a not so easy laugh. “Know what I’m saying?”
“I absolutely do. Don’t sweat it, Mr. Mundy. And thanks for your time.” Des tipped her big hat at him and headed back across the lane, thinking about how she was going to run a criminal background check on these two just as soon as she had a chance.
Molly was still over there shooting baskets. A silver VW Passat was now parked behind her in the driveway.
“It’s happened to her, too, hasn’t it?” Molly said glumly.
“What has, Molly?”
“My mom’s body is still there but she isn’t. She’s been taken away same as my dad. It’s just like I Married a Monster from Outer Space with Mr. Tom Tryon.”
Des snagged the ball and bounce-passed it to her, feeling sorrier for this bespectacled little waif than she had for anyone in a long while. “How do you know about such a black-and-white oldie?”
“Mitch was always uber-cool about loaning me DVDs. I’m really into old-school sci-fi. Also anything that has haunted houses with secret passageways and dungeons.”
“You and Mitch really spoke the same language, didn’t you?”
“Totally. I really miss Mitch. He’s like my dad-real smart but he doesn’t try to make you feel stupid.” Molly drove to the hoop and laid it in off of the glass. “Why’d you break his heart?”
“Is that what you think happened?”
“Duh. It’s why he left town. Everybody knows that.”
“Sometimes two people just don’t belong together anymore.”
“Will you guys ever get back together?”
“No, Molly, we won’t.”
“But you’re supposed to be together,” Molly said insistently. “You belong together.”
“You’ve been talking to Mrs. Tillis about us, haven’t you?”
“Have not. I just know it, that’s all. I know about a lot of things.”
Des glanced back across the lane. Clay and Hector had gone inside the house. “Do you know if your mom has been to see a doctor lately?”
Molly shook her head. “She hasn’t been anywhere in weeks. Just sleeps all day. Clay does all of the grocery shopping and stuff.”
“Do you like Clay?”
“I hate him,” she said flatly. “He’s bossy and he’s mean. Always acting like he can tell me what to do.”
“Has he ever put his hands on you?”
“You mean like hit me? No way.” Molly lowered her eyes evasively before she added, “Hector’s okay. He shoots hoops with me sometimes.”
“And where does he live?”
“With us. Except sometimes he goes away for a few days. So does Clay.”
“They go away together?”
“No, when one of them leaves the other one stays behind. Hector crashes on the sofa usually. Except if Clay’s out of town. Then he gets to…” Molly trailed off, her pink nose twitching. “One morning I saw Hector coming out of my mom’s room without any clothes on. He sleeps in her bed just like Clay does. And sometimes they’re both in there with her at the same time.” Molly gazed up at her now, wide-eyed and earnest. “Trooper Des, what’s wrong with my mom?”
“Nothing we can’t set right,” Des answered confidently, even though she sure wasn’t feeling that way. The girl’s father was out to lunch and her drugged-out mother was getting it on with the entire staff of Nutmegger Professional Seamless Gutters. The truth was that this situation was edging dangerously close to actionable-if Des had reason to suspect that Molly was being abused, neglected or exposed to criminal behavior then she was supposed to toss it to the Department of Children and Families.
A driveway side door to the Beckwith farmhouse opened now. A fortyish, frizzy-haired redhead in a short- sleeved pink blouse and white slacks came bustling out with a basket of laundry and started around back with it.
“Don’t you worry, Molly,” Des said with a reassuring smile. “And hey, my folks split up, too. So if you ever want to talk I’m around, okay?” She offered the girl her card. Molly just stared at it. “Look, I know you were mad at
