over.”
“We need to let base know the situation.” Cork turned to the radio.
He explained everything to Larson, said that Dina would stay until morning, then would be sent back. To which she shook her head with a definite no. Larson gave him the latest weather forecast-clear skies, cold temperatures-and then gave him the difficult news.
“Faith Gray says you have one more chance to keep your appointment with her before she orders your suspension.”
“Christ, doesn’t she understand the circumstances?”
“The circumstances don’t matter, Cork. The language of the rule is clear. You ought to know. Your rule.”
Cork signed off feeling tired, feeling as if there was too much on his shoulders at the moment.
With hard dark, the stars came out by the millions and the sky through the branches above the campsite looked as if it were full of a thin frost.
“At least the weather’s holding,” Morgan noted.
“A little snow would be good,” Meloux said.
“Snow?” Dina sounded surprised.
“Just enough,” Meloux said.
“We call it a hunter’s snow,” Cork explained.
“I get it. The tracks.”
Fineday had been quiet. Meloux said, “Worry will not save her.”
For the first time, Fineday spoke to Meloux harshly. “Sitting here won’t either. We haven’t seen a single sign of them. How do we know they came this way? They could be miles from here.”
Meloux replied calmly, “If they are, what can we do? Better to believe that we have been guided well.”
“By an old man with failing eyes?”
“By the spirits of these woods.”
“That’s what’s been leading us? Spirits?”
“We have not failed yet,” Meloux said. “There’s no reason to distrust or despair.”
Despite the old Mide’s encouraging words, Cork wondered if he saw uncertainty in Meloux’s dark eyes.
“So in the morning the plan is that we cut between those two islands, hit Carson Creek, and see what happens from there?” Morgan said. “Sounds a lot like the plan we followed today.”
His tone was not accusatory, but his point was clear. All the evidence so far seemed to indicate that they’d spent their time in a fruitless hunt that had netted them nothing except tired muscles and the prospect of a long night on cold ground. Cork understood that as a working plan for the next day it lacked appeal.
“Until Henry says different, we stay on the trail,” he said.
“You’re the boss. Anybody want more coffee?” Morgan got up from where he sat on his sleeping bag and took the pan to the lake to fill it with water. It was dark and he carried a flashlight. A minute later he hollered, “Hey, look at this.”
Cork and the others hurried to Morgan, who stood on the lakeshore near the overturned canoes. He pointed the beam of his flashlight at the water a few feet out. Something gold glinted in the light.
“It looks like a watch,” Dina said.
Cork used his own flashlight to locate a stick, then he fished the watch from the lake bottom.
Fineday grabbed it from him. “It’s Lizzie’s. I gave it to her when she turned sixteen.”
“Do you think she dropped it on purpose, to let us know?”
Meloux said, “She would drop nothing that Stone did not know about.”
“Stone left it?” Morgan asked.
Meloux looked across the dark water of the lake. “Fish and honey,” he said.
40
It was soft twilight when Jo pulled off Sheridan Road onto a long drive that cut through a hundred yards of dark lawn. The tires growled over dun-colored bricks that had been used for paving. She pulled up to a house big as a convent, with a red tile roof and stucco walls. In every way, it rivaled the home of Lou Jacoby.
Ben met her at the door. “Come in. I just got home.” He was still dressed in his three-piece pinstriped suit, looking handsome, distinguished.
She stepped inside.
“It’s a little dark,” Ben said. “I can turn on some lights if you prefer.”
“No, I’m fine.”
They were in a large entryway that opened left and right onto huge rooms.
“Where would you like to talk? In the parlor?”
“You have a parlor?”
“And a billiard room, a library, a study. With a candlestick and a lead pipe we could be a game of Clue. It’s way too big, but it’s what Miriam wanted. How about we sit in the kitchen? It’s really the coziest room in the house.”
He led the way through a large dining room with French doors that opened onto a wide veranda. Jo could see a long stretch of lawn, green and tidy as an ironed tablecloth, with a turquoise swimming pool as a centerpiece. A tall hedge marked the rear boundary, and beyond that lay Lake Michigan, dark silver in the evening light.
The kitchen, which Ben had called cozy, was larger than any room in Jo’s house on Gooseberry Lane. The floor was black-and-white tile. There were long counters, a dozen cupboards, and a butcher-block island. A round table with chairs was set near a sliding door that, like the dining room French doors, opened onto the veranda.
“You must eat well,” Jo said.
“Miriam hired fine cooks.” Ben indicated the table. “Have a chair. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Thank you.”
“Red? You used to love a good red.”
“I don’t drink red anymore. It gives me a headache.”
“Things change, don’t they? How about a chardonnay?”
He took a bottle from the refrigerator and opened it. From a rack above one of the counters, he took two glasses that hung upside down by their stems.
Several books lay stacked on one of the chairs at the table. They appeared to be college textbooks.
“What are these?” Jo asked.
Jacoby carried the wineglasses to the table and sat down. “They’re Phillip’s. He’s around the house somewhere. He got expelled from his fraternity, and he’s staying here for a while until he can arrange for other housing.”
Jo had no idea what transgression might result in expulsion from a fraternity, but her sense, given the Animal House image she held, was that it had to be significant.
“All right,” Ben said. “Let’s talk. What do you want to know?”
“You get reports from a woman who’s helping with the investigation of Eddie’s murder, is that right?”
“Dina Willner.”
“So what’s going on out there?”
He settled back and folded his hands, a movement that seemed designed to give him a moment to think. “How much do you know?”
“Not much. When I call the department, they’re evasive. I’m sure they’re just following Cork’s instructions. My guess is that it’s because he’s involved in something that I’m not supposed to worry about.” When she said it, she heard a flutter of anger in her voice, and realized how strongly she felt.
“If they don’t want you to know, why hit on me?”
“Because you’re not one of his people. You can do what you like.”
