But by the time he was inside, the dogs had stopped barking and were merely standing before the door, apparently listening to something on the other side. He noticed the guest room door was open now.
“Elena?” he called as he set the equipment down.
No response.
He looked through the peephole and saw Bob Hitchcock standing on the front lawn, talking to her. Hitch seemed to be pleading, Elena looked obstinate. Hitch wore a dark golf shirt and slacks and was dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.
What the hell was Hitch doing here? he wondered. He stepped outside.
“Frank!” Hitch said with a smile, but it wasn’t a smile Frank liked much. Although the evening air was cool, Hitch was sweating, and Frank could see the pulse in his neck.
But Elena’s reaction bothered him more. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“What brings you to my door, Hitch?”
“I heard my old partner Rosario was staying with you, Frank.”
“Heard it where?”
“Word gets around.”
“Really? Who brought it around to you?”
“No, no — I’m not naming names. Besides, that’s not important. I gotta talk to the two of you.”
“About what?”
Hitch looked toward the ocean, as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Jesus, this is a great setup you have here, Frank. This close to the water — I never could afford a piece of property like this.”
Elena muttered something, and Hitch dabbed at his chin with the handkerchief. “I’m not implying anything,” he said quickly. “Everybody in the department knows the old lady that lived next door rented it to him and then sold it to him on the cheap ’cause she liked him. Well, who could blame her? Say, how about we take a walk along the beach?”
Elena glanced at Frank then, but Frank let the silence stretch. Hitch shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Talk about what?” Frank asked again.
“Lefebvre. The Randolphs. There are things I should have spoken up about before now.” He stared at Elena for a moment. “Jesus — and now I learn he had a kid with you, Rosario — God damn, that was a shock.”
Frank thought it was the first time that evening Hitch had been completely truthful. “I’m curious, Hitch — why now? In the evening, at my home? Why not just talk to me at the game tonight?”
“Screw the game!” He tried another smile. It looked more forced than ever. “Well, take a gander at me, Frank. I’m a fucking wreck — I can’t sleep, I’m on edge all the time — I can’t live like this, Frank.” He looked to see if he was having any effect. A little more desperately, he said, “Tonight I thought of being out on the ice with you, surrounded by everybody else on your team, knowing what I know—”
“Didn’t bother you much a few days ago at breakfast. Surrounded by the same guys.”
“Jesus Christ almighty, Frank, please don’t start being stubborn about this!”
“Leave Frank out of it, Hitch,” Elena said tonelessly. “This mess is between the two of us.”
Frank turned to her in surprise, but she had already moved away, starting to walk quickly toward the beach. He hurried after her.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked when he reached her, but she said nothing and still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, Elena, for God’s sake tell me. You know I’ll try to help you.”
She halted for a moment, but in the next instant Hitch caught up to them, and she shook her head and kept walking.
Hitch was panting now, straining to match her pace. “Could we go just a little slower?”
She speeded up.
She reached the stairs, paused briefly, then resolutely made her way toward a group of three men on the beach.
Frank had no difficulty recognizing them. Whitey Dane, Myles Volmer, and the wasp man. He turned to Hitch and said, “You’re on his fucking payroll, aren’t you, you bastard?”
Hitch wheezed and held his hands up as if to ward off a blow.
Frank turned his attention to the others now, ready to do all he could to protect Elena. But he soon realized that she wasn’t acting afraid.
Despite all the possibilities he considered in those few moments, he was still surprised to hear Dane call out, “If it isn’t my dear old friend Elena.”
40
Thursday, July 13, 8:10 P.M.
Las Piernas Beach
“I’m not your friend, Dane,” Elena said. “Not then, not now.”
Dane placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.” As Frank approached, Dane extended a hand and said, “Detective Harriman! So good of you to join us.”
Frank stood with his fists clenched.
