“Now what?” I asked Ryan. We were standing in the Duke Street parking lot.
“I don’t think Heidi was making the night scene, so we’re not going to accomplish anything running around to bars and clubs.”
“No.”
“Let’s call it a day. I’ll drive you back to the Love Boat.”
“It’s the
“Tess. Is that something you eat with corn bread and greens?”
“Ham hocks and yams.”
“Do you want the ride?”
“Sure.”
We rode in silence most of the way. I’d found Ryan annoying all day and couldn’t wait to be free of him. We were on the bridge when he broke the silence.
“I doubt she’d go to beauty parlors or tanning salons.”
“That’s amazing. I can see why you made detective.”
“Maybe we should focus on Brian. Maybe he worked for a time.”
“You’ve already run him. There’s no tax record, right?”
“Nothing.”
“He could have been paid in cash.”
“That narrows the possibilities.”
We turned in at Ollie’s.
“So where do we go from here?” I asked.
“I never got that hush puppy.”
“I meant the investigation. You’re on your own for dinner. I’m going to go home, take a shower, and make myself a scrumptious plate of instant macaroni. In that order.”
“Jesus, Brennan, that stuff has more preservatives than Lenin’s cadaver.”
“I’ve read the label.”
“You might as well swallow industrial waste. You’ll mess up your”—he mimicked Kathryn—“genetic potential.”
Some half-forgotten thought started to seep into my mind, formless, like the morning’s mist. I tried to reel it in, but the harder I concentrated the faster it dissolved.
“—Owens better keep his skivvies up. I’m going to be on his ass like flies on a Tootsie Roll.”
“What sort of gospel do you suppose he preaches?”
“Sounds like some combination of ecological Armageddon and self-improvement through Wheaties.”
When he pulled up at the pier the sky was beginning to clear over the marsh. Streaks of yellow lit the horizon.
“Kathryn knows something,” I said.
“Don’t we all.”
“You can be a real pain in the ass, Ryan.”
“Thank you for noticing. What makes you think she’s holding out?”
“She said babies.”
“So?”
“Babies.”
I saw thought working in his eyes. Then,
“Son of a bitch.”
“We never told her Heidi was carrying twins.”
Forty minutes later I heard a knock at the port-side entrance. I was wearing the Hornets T-shirt Katy had left, no panties, and a towel fashioned into a pretty slick turban. I peered through the blinds.
Ryan stood on the dock holding two six-packs and a pizza the size of a manhole cover. He’d abandoned his jacket and tie, and rolled his shirtsleeves to just below the elbows.
Shit.
I released the slats and pulled back. I could turn off the light and refuse to answer. I could ignore him. I could tell him to go away.
I peeked out again and found myself looking directly into Ryan’s eyes.
“I know you’re in there, Brennan. I’m a detective, remember?”
