'Beat it. I'll give you a statement down at the station. And be glad I'm not pulling you in like Miss Quilliam.'
'Since you've blown my cover, could I just ask her a few questions?'
'No.'
'Miss Quilliam, how does it feel to have solved what promises to be the crime of the century?'
'Wet,' Quill said cheerfully. 'I'll be back in a second.'
'Out,' said Jerry. 'All of you.'
Outside, the rain continued in fitful gusts. Quill's euphoria ebbed the closer they came to the Palm Beach County police station. It was situated on PGA Boulevard, across from the Gardens Mall, near the community college. Despite the proximity of these three facilities, the area was blessedly free of the sprawling, neon-lit buildings that seemed to characterize Florida. It baffled Quill that drugstores, grocery stores, and gas stations were placed higgedly-piggedly among golf communities with high stone gates and pot-bellied security guards. The zoning committees must have had unlimited access to rum punches. But the police station was neither tasteless nor intimidating - just a large concrete block building stuccoed over with the ubiquitous white paint and, of course, a red-tiled roof. The building housed the DMV, the tax bureau, and other county offices as well as the jail.
Quill and Meg sat in the back of Jerry's Chevrolet. There was a huge crowd of vans and cars crowded in the parking lot. and a large clutch of people at the door. Some of them carried umbrellas against the rain, but most stood there unfazed by the weather, pale faces dripping, hair lank. To her amazement, Quill saw a few hand- lettered signs:
FREE CRESSIDA'S BOYS! and WE LOVE EVAN.
'My lord.' Meg gasped.
'Told you Miss Houghton knows all the tricks.' Jerry parked in the FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY spot and shut off the ignition. 'You two ready?'
The next few minutes reminded Quill of the session in the boat. Terrifying, chaotic, noisy, and wet. Hands plucked at her arms, her hair. Voices shouted in her ear. Microphones were thrust under her nose and the lights of video cameras shone in her eyes. She grabbed Jerry's raincoat with one hand and Meg's sweater with the other and they all ducked though the crowd.
Inside, they went through the metal detector at the entrance. The hallways were wide, the floors covered with a beige, rubberized tile. Quill noticed there was no odor of disinfectant or dust-just the scent of damp clothes. There was group of people clustered at the en- trance to the county judge's chambers. In the center of the group was a tall, graceful figure in immaculate beige.
Even the reporters kept a respectful distance. Cressida's silvery hair was gathered in a loose bun at her neck. In the strong light, she looked tired, beautiful, and fragile. Her eyes-pale blue, distant-fell on Quill and Meg. She nodded slightly in their direction. The reporters - two of whom Quill recognized as national anchors for evening news programs - turned as if they were one body. Jerry held up his hand in warning. Video cameras whirred, a few cameras flashed. Cressida bent her neck like a swan and said something in a sorrowful tone.
'Cressida's claim is,' Jerry said sarcastically, 'that you two older women were after the boys' fortune. That this whole kidnapping thing with Taylor was a set-up.'
'You're kidding!' Quill said.
'Come in here.' He took a key from his pocket and unlocked a side door set unobtrusively midway down the hall. They entered what was apparently a small interrogation room. There were three metal chairs, a square wood table, and bars on the window in the wall.
'The Houghton family is going to try to twist this around to say that we're responsible for Verger Taylor's kidnapping?' Meg said. 'Whew! That takes a lot of nerve.'
'Takes a lot of money,' said Jerry. 'But it's not going to work.'
'Not going to work?' Meg exploded. 'Of course it's not going to work! It's a huge lie!'
'Doesn't mean the defense isn't going to be successful.' He looked at them with deeply cynical eyes. 'We've got the whole business on videotape, of course. From the drop and the newspapers spilling out to the Taylor kids ramming your boat. There's some great footage of Evan grabbing your hair, Quill, and trying to keep you underwater. Cressy and her lawyers are going to have a tough time defending that.'
Meg grabbed Quill's hand and squeezed it hard. 'I guess I missed that.'
'There's also some good footage of Meg ramming Luis Mendoza's boat into the pier.' Jerry laughed silently and shook his head.
'Hah,' said Quill. 'I don't want to hear another word about my driving.'
'Okay,' said Meg, uncharacteristically subdued. 'There's got to be more evidence than the videotape, Jerry.' Quill ran her fingers through her hair. It was still damp.
'There's the money itself. The twenty thousand dollars that was missing from Verger's office. Evan had it stored in an identical tote in the back of his closet. But...'
A tap on the door interrupted him. He frowned. The woman Quill had seen with him the night before - his partner, Quill guessed - came in and shut the door be- hind her. She gave Quill a brief, angry glance.
'I've already ticked them off about interfering with the investigation, Trish,' Jerry said. 'And you have to admit that without them, we wouldn't have a charge that would stick.'
'We do now,' Trish said. 'Corrigan just confessed. He says he and Evan staged the break-in to look like a home invasion and shot Verger Taylor twice in the chest with a thirty-eight pistol.
'Where the hell's the body?' Jerry asked.
'That's just it, Jer. He claims they left the body there. Went back to their mother's at seven o'clock and waited for the Quilliams to join them for dinner. Corrigan says he has no idea what happened to Verger's body, and that the kidnapping came entirely from left field.'
