The Kills

'Better be bringing a cannon for that job.'

'Helena Lisi's just a front,' I said.

'For what?'

'For the brains behind the operation, I have to think. Somebody else is paying the legal bills, but doesn't want to be connected to the courtroom. You've got to find out who that is. Yesterday.'

'You don't think Lisi will tell you, if you ask nice?'

'I can hear her start to whine before I even pose the question. I could try to subpoena her to the grand jury, on the theory that there's a criminal conspiracy, but she'll move to quash and we'll be arguing that one till doomsday.'

'Lawyer-client privilege?'

'Even the Supremes let us get into some disclosures about fees in certain circumstances, but I'm counting on you to beat the clock. Maybe you start with Mrs. Gatts. See what she knows.'

'So there's a new lawyer?'

'Shadow counsel. A stupid artifice that could undermine the whole case, and certainly toss a conviction, if we get anywhere close to one. If we nail Kevin-or someone else for Queenie's murder-this schmuck just becomes part of a fraud that greased the wheels for Tiffany to slide right into our laps, without any real representation.'

'Got it.'

'Thanks, Mike. We'll talk in the morning.'

'Deal,' he said, as I started to sign off. 'Coop? You okay up there? You're not alone, are you?'

'We're fine,' I said, misleading him with the plural pronoun. 'Promise. Speak to you tomorrow.'

I hung up and hit the number of Jake's cell phone. 'Hey,' I said as he came on the line. 'Can't believe I got you on one ring.'

I stretched out on the sofa and cradled the phone against my shoulder.

'Where are you?' he asked.

'Home. The Vineyard.' Jake knew it was the one place in the world where I was most content. The tension sloughed off my shoulders within half an hour of my arrival here, even in the worst of circumstances. 'And you?'

'Didn't Laura give you the message? I'm trying to get up there, too.'

'I haven't even checked the machine. I-I just needed to hear your voice.'

'I'm at Reagan National. Nothing's flying out at the moment. The wind has increased and the first bit of the storm is about to hit.'

The Vineyard weather was anywhere from twelve to eighteen hours behind D.C.'s, depending on the speed the system picked up along the way. I could expect Hurricane Gretchen to reach our shores by tomorrow afternoon.

'Go back to the hotel. The airport here has probably shut down already.'

'That's not a problem. I was planning to fly to Logan and get down in the morning if I had to. Till I had a brainstorm.'

'What's that?' I smiled, pulling a throw over my legs and stirring the ice cubes in the glass with my finger.

'I'm about a concourse away from the row of rental booths. I figure I'll get a car, turn the music up loud, drive up to Woods Hole-even if it takes the better part of the night-and be there in time for the first ferry. Nothing cozier than a great storm. We can stay the whole weekend and-'

I sat bolt upright and swung my legs to the floor, tangling myself in the mohair blanket. I shrieked into the receiver, 'You can't do that, Jake. Please don't do that.'

Didn't he remember what had happened to Adam Nyman, my fiance, on the night before we were supposed to be married? Driving to the Vineyard from Manhattan, he'd been killed when his car had been sideswiped on the turnpike and had crashed down onto a riverbed below.

Jake clearly didn't connect the urgency in my voice to that tragedy. 'Darling, either Mike's right about the fact that you're entirely too controlling,' he joked, 'or you're stowed away up there with some other foul-weather aficionado who doesn't want me in the neighborhood. C'mon, babe, the all-night drive'll make me feel like I'm in college again.'

The static on his phone was masking the panic that had seized me.

'No, no, no, no, no,' I kept repeating, until I could break into his response. 'Don't you understand, Jake? It's-it's about Adam. It's too painful to bear. Ten hours of highway driving, half of it bound to be in a blinding storm?'

'It's not raining yet, Alex. The roads are-'

'You're missing the point. I'm begging you not to do this, Jake. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you on your way here. Wait till the front passes and fly up if you want, for the weekend. Just swear to me you won't try to drive it.'

His tone chilled. 'There's probably a good reason you don't want me up there with you. I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready.'

I tried again to make him see it from my perspective, but he was still clipped when we said our good nights.

I picked up my glass and wandered into the bedroom. I felt more alone than I had in a very long time. I turned the steam unit on in the shower and set the temperature at ninety-nine degrees, letting it warm up while I undressed.

The phone rang but I ignored it. There was no point in arguing with Jake, so I opted to let the machine record the message while I listened.

'You there, Coop? You outside baying at the moon?'

'Just screening, Mike,' I said, grabbing the receiver from its dock. 'You forget to tell me to have pleasant dreams?'

'Val's a whiz with the computer. Got me onto the website for Lisi and Lisi, the husband-and-wife law firm, so I'd have a head start in the morning.'

'I didn't mean to get you riled up on Val's time, Mike. Tomorrow is fine.'

'Forget Helena. What do you know about Jimmy Lisi?'

'Former Legal Aid. Pretty decent guy.'

'Interesting bio, Coop. Born on the other side. Very proud of his roots.'

'Why not?' I could see the steam misting on the glass door of the shower, and I ached to get inside and relax.

'Generalissimo Lisi, Jimmy's pop. Know anything about him?'

'Tell me.'

'Jimmy was born in Rome. His old man rose through the ranks, wound up as head goombah in the Italian Secret Service. Puts him right near the kitchen where they cooked up some potent pasta e fagioli for Farouk the night he croaked back in sixty-five.'

'I like it,' I said, putting down the scotch and picking up a pen and pad.

'So I did the same kind of check for the other lawyers in the case. Unfortunately, the law firms that those guys are with don't do the same kind of family sagas on-line, like the Lisis. Just have their fancy degrees and the alma maters listed.'

'C'mon, Mike. I can tell you found something else that tweaked you.'

'So Jimmy Lisi gets to college-Yale, by the way-and ends up in the same frat as a guy whose old man was also a spook in Rome, for the Brits, at the very same time Lisi's dad was doing spy work.'

'I see where this is going. Forget about Josh Braydon and his shadow counsel role. We need to find out who's pulling the strings behind Helena Lisi.'

'Maybe,' Mike said, 'the man Tiffany Gatts is afraid of is actually Peter Robelon.'

33

The view from my bedroom's French doors out over the lawn that sloped down to the pond was a muted palette of grays and greens, moistened by a steady rainfall. Trees and tall grasses seemed colored by a dull