Flight

“There is no need for hostility or violence, Detective Harriman, I assure you. I’m not wearing a gun, and neither are Myles and Derrick. Have you met Myles and Derrick?” He smiled. “You may have seen them around town, at funerals or florists.”

Frank didn’t trust Dane to be telling the truth about being unarmed. He thought of his gun, locked away out of concern for Seth’s safety. He looked up and down the beach, but the nearest group of people were some way off, on the boardwalk near the pier.

“I would have preferred a comfortable little coze in your living room,” Dane went on, “but I asked Detective Hitchcock to bring you to me here — you see, I understand you share your home with a rather large Felis catus. There is much I admire in cats,” he said, taking a long and considering look at Elena. “However, ultimately, they may be the death of me.” He smiled, then turned to Frank. “That is, I am severely allergic to them. And I must admit that I also sent the intrepid Detective Hitchcock to your door because I thought you might be a tad more willing to open it to a fellow detective than to me.”

“‘A tad,’” Elena said, mimicking his voice. “Whitey thinks that bullshit way of talking makes him sound elegant, but he still acts like the little pimp from Pittsburgh he’s always been. That’s a tad pathetic, isn’t it?”

Derrick moved forward a little, but Dane checked him with a small gesture. “Still too impulsive for your own good, aren’t you, Elena? I wonder — all those years ago, was it impulse that led you to betray me?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Such poise! When I compare your response to the rather anxious one of your former partner, I must say, I’m tempted to believe you.” Dane studied her again, then glanced at Hitch, who was edging back. “Derrick, please make sure Detective Hitchcock remains with us.”

“Mr. Dane, please—” Hitch began, but fell silent as Derrick put an arm around his shoulders — a friendly gesture belied by Hitch’s wince — and moved him closer to Dane. Hitch’s face was pale, but he said nothing.

“Let’s not waste time,” Dane said. “Let me tell you my concerns. It’s just so — how shall I say it? — so inconvenient to be accused of murders one hasn’t committed. And now, at a time when I am winning the trust of businessmen and civic leaders—”

“Buying votes and favors is more like it,” Elena scoffed.

“Calling the kettle black, my dear? In return for a favor, I believe I once received certain assurances from you.”

She flinched and glanced at Frank. In a low voice, she said, “I kept my word, Whitey, and until tonight you kept yours.” She smiled coldly. “At this rate, I’m going to stop believing in the old adage about honor among thieves.”

“How tragic that would be! Perhaps I have been misinformed.” He turned toward Hitch, who appeared to be close to fainting, then back to Elena. “But you, my dear, seem so much more likely to have been an enemy posing as friend! Someone who had information about where I would be that evening. Someone who knew I would be among friends whose — shall we say, histories? — might be an obstacle for jurors asked to believe my alibi.”

“I’m not the only one who knew where you’d be that night,” Elena said. “And neither is Hitch, for that matter. You surround yourself with all these muscle-bound boy toys, they start to get jealous and spiteful.”

He shook his head. “Elena, Elena. Do strive to be more original.”

“What are you worried about, anyway?” Frank said. “The Randolph case never went to trial.”

“Oh, that’s another sore point. I’ve never been allowed to prove my innocence, have I? Indeed, I’d even settle for having all that phony evidence in my own hands. But someone else has it. Suppose it’s suddenly rediscovered in the LPPD property room?”

Frank shrugged. “Then your lawyers say the department lost control of the evidence for ten years, and the D.A. says good-bye to the case.”

“Detective Harriman, I have no doubt I would be able to extricate myself from any legal difficulties, but surely you understand how offended I am that someone attempted to set me up?”

“Get over it,” Elena said.

“No, I’m afraid I’m the type who isn’t forgiving. I keep thinking of all the elements that had to be in place, and I cannot help but see that I was betrayed by someone who knew me.” He began counting off points on his long, milky fingers. “Someone who knew that I favored deck shoes of a particular type, who knew that I would not be out on the Cygnet myself that night, who knew how to steal a boat — and let’s face it, who learns more about tricks of the criminal trade than police officers? — someone who made sure Lefebvre, the department’s star homicide detective, was at the marina and made certain that he discovered the Amanda.”

“Phil made that discovery on his own.”

“Did he? Or were you there to make sure he lingered near it? You see, I’ve heard a recent rumor that my old friend Elena Rosario—”

“I have never been your friend!”

“—Elena Rosario was being naughty with Lefebvre. You can hardly deny that rumor, my dear.”

“I’m proud of every moment I spent with Phil.”

“But when it comes to me—”

“I can’t think of anything I’m more ashamed of.”

Dane laughed. “Derrick?”

Frank stepped forward to protect her, but he had misjudged the target — the wasp man moved like lightning and planted a hard right in Hitch’s gut. Hitch doubled over and went to his knees, retching on the sand.

“On the other hand, Detective Hitchcock, I’m afraid, has no shame,” Dane said. “That’s what leads me to believe he lied to me a few years ago when he told me you tipped off Lefebvre.”

Elena stared at Hitch in disbelief. Hitch was weeping.