Mitch went back to work on his sandwich. “You’re just worn down from your tour, that’s all. You’ll meet someone real soon.”
Abby smiled at him coyly. “You really think so?”
“I do. And I’ll tell you something else-Jeff’s out of his mind.”
She reached across the table and put her hand over his. “Come with me to Boston, Mitch. Have dinner with me tonight. Stay over with me.”
“I can’t, Abby,” he said, staring down at her soft little hand.
“Why not?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve known you for less than an hour.”
“Sometimes it happens that way,” she said, squeezing his hand tightly.
“Plus it would not be a good idea for me to leave the state right now.”
“I can vouch for you. I’m famous. I’m credible.”
“Plus I’m involved with someone.”
“Damn, I knew it. The good ones are always taken.” Abby released his hand and took a long gulp of her shake, peering at Mitch over her fountain glass. “So how do you know Jeffrey?”
“We walk together on the beach every morning.”
“How is he?” she asked, her nostrils flaring. “Not that I care.”
“Still in love with you, or so he says.”
Abby let out a shrill, mocking laugh. “Yeah, right,” she said scornfully. “Listen to me, Mitch, the single most important thing to remember in regards to Jeffrey and women is that every single word out of his mouth is a lie. And the little putz gets away with it, too. You know why? Because he happens to be among the world’s greatest swordsmen. You wouldn’t know it look at him, but it’s true. Jeffrey has absolutely spoiled me for other men. That’s my curse. I swear, when I was there in that hotel bed with Tito Molina all I kept thinking was ‘God, if only he were Jeffrey Wachtell.’ That’s crazy, isn’t it?”
“Not if you still love the little guy.”
“I hate the little guy! The little guy is despicable. The little guy is…” She fell silent, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “I understand he has a mother-daughter tag team thing going on now-he’s boinking Esme Crockett and her old lady at the same time. Chrissie told me all about it. You look surprised, Mitch. Don’t be. That man is the craftiest little pussy hound imaginable. Even beautiful women instinctively get all motherly and protective toward him. They can’t help themselves. Half of the time they seduce him- despite knowing he’s absolutely no good for them. Believe me, I’m the expert. I paid the price in the worst possible way.” Abby sat back in the booth, hugging herself with her bare arms. “I’m the one whowalked in on him boinking my own baby sister, Phyllis, in our own bed in our own apartment. Mitch, you have no idea how violated I felt. How dirty.”
“I’m sorry, Abby.”
“So am I,” she said, shivering. She had goose bumps up and down her bare arms now. “That’s why I won’t give him a nickel of my earnings. He’s not the injured party, I am.”
Mitch got up and fetched her linen jacket for her.
She snuggled back into it gratefully, studying him with her startled blue eyes. “I don’t know what Jeffrey’s told you about our settlement battle…”
“That he’s asking for twenty-five percent of the proceeds from the first book. He claims he was involved early on in the creative process, and therefore should participate in it.”
“Not in a million years.” Abby sniffed. “Never.”
“I don’t blame you at all. Still, you have to admit that, well, Jeff is Carleton, isn’t he?”
“Carleton is fiction,” Abby shot back, bristling. “Carleton is my creation. Jeffrey had nothing to do with him. Not one thing!”
“Are you ab-so-tootly sure of that?”
“And he does not own the copyright to that stupid expression! No one does. I was free to use it. And I’ll keep on using it for as long as I damned please. Carleton is not Jeffrey Wachtell. How could he be? Carleton isn’t a liar. Carleton doesn’t whine about every single thing twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Ask yourself this: Can you imagine Carleton hosing his wife’s sister?”
“No, of course not. Carleton’s not old enough. He’s still a little boy. Or fish. Or…”
“Carleton is good is what he is,” she asserted. “Carleton is honest and brave and true. And I will bankrupt Jeffrey Wachtell with lawyer fees before I ever give him one shiny nickel of my proceeds.” Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, silently mouthing a ten-count. Jeff was way under her skin, no two ways about that. “How is his bookstore doing, anyway? Chrissie told me it’s a real dump.”
“Not true. It’s a lovely little store. Although he is struggling to get by.”
“Good.”
“In fact, that’s the reason why I’m here-he was wondering if you would stop in and do a signing. You’ll be passing right by Dorset on the interstate, and he could really use the boost.”
“Not a chance,” she replied sharply. “After Boston I’m in Bar Harbor, then Martha’s Vineyard, then home. I am not stopping at some neighborhood bookshop in some out-of-the-way village no one’s ever heard of. It’s not worth my while, Mitch. How many books could he move-fifty? I just sold ten times that this afternoon.”
“Still, you could do it if you really wanted to.”
“It’s true, I could,” she admitted. “But you’ve put your finger right on it, Mitch. I really, really, don’t want to.”
“It sure would help him out, Abby.”
Abby cradled her chin in her palm, gazing at him in wonderment. “Cookie, have you been totally ignoring every single word I’ve been saying to you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then answer me this-why on earth would I help Jeffrey out?”
“Because you still love him. And he still loves you. You two should be looking out for each other, not trying to draw blood.”
“You’re sweet, Mitch, but you’re living in a make-believe world. In real life, people who hate each other really do hate each other.”
“You want real life? A tabloid has offered Jeff a quarter of a million dollars for dirt on you.”
“Dirt?” Abby immediately paled. “What dirt? What has that weasel been telling you about me?”
“That you hate kids so much you made him get a vasectomy.”
“That was his idea, not mine,” she said heatedly. “He’s the one who’s terrified of parenthood. I want to be a mother more than anything in the world. Don’t you think I’d make a good mother?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, I do, because I know what’s in my heart. Besides, the procedure he had is totally reversible. God, I don’t believe he’s trying topeddle such crap! Wait, what am I saying? Of course I do. This is Jeffrey we’re talking about.”
“My sense is that he really doesn’t want to dish, Abby. In fact, I don’t believe he will. But he’s in a tight spot financially.”
Abby recoiled, shaking her finger at him. “Wait one lousy minute. Now I know why you’re here-you’re trying to strong-arm me! Sure, that’s it. You came here to tell me that if I don’t show up at his crummy store he’ll go to the tabloids. You’re his stinking messenger boy, aren’t you? Tell me I’m wrong, Mitch. Go ahead!”
“Okay, you’re wrong. The thought never even occurred to me.”
“Maybe it didn’t,” she conceded. “But I can guarantee you that it occurred to him.”
“Abby, that’s really not how I read the situation.”
“Then you’d better go get your eyes checked, cookie. I know Jeffrey. I know how his mind works. And he’s telling me, through you, that if I don’t do this for him he’ll sell me out.”
“But he swore he wouldn’t,” Mitch pointed out. “He told me you were the only woman he’s ever loved, and that he’d take you back in a second.”
“And you believed him?” Abby demanded incredulously.
Mitch drained his milkshake and slumped there in the booth, suddenly feeling profoundly deflated a
nd used up. “Abby, I honestly don’t know who to believe anymore.”
“If I were you,” Mitch advised, feeling the gentle lift and dip of the swell beneath him, “I’d do some checking up on Abby Kaminsky’s whereabouts the past couple of days. Or, more specifically, nights.”
“Jeff’s ex-wife?” asked Des, who was floating on her back next to him, wet skin gleaming in the moonlight. “Why is that?”
“Because she slept with Tito Molina.”
“No way. Her, too?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You think she might be involved in this?”
“She’s certainly in the mix. Quite the humid little pepper pot, too.”
The two of them were enjoying a late-night skinny dip off BigSister’s private beach. The water was bracing and the night air had turned gloriously crisp and clear. Overhead, the moon was full, the stars bright.
Mitch had spent much of the evening seated there on his favorite beach log, gloomily sampling the bottle of peppermint schnapps he’d bought out of morbid curiosity. It tasted awful, in his opinion. Strangely familiar as well, although he could not imagine why. Des had pulled up outside his carriage house at around ten o’clock and joined him on the beach a few minutes later, clutching two cold Bass ales and two towels.
He had never been happier to see her in his life.
As they floated there naked in the moonlight, the lights of the town a glow in the distance, Mitch reminded himself just how lucky he was to be here on this night with this woman. It was the one positive thing he had taken from losing Maisie the way he had-not a day went by when he took the good things for granted.
“How did you happen to meet up with said humid little pepper pot?”
“Jealous?”
“I’ll ask the questions, mister.”
“Jeff asked me to look her up. He wants her to sign books at his store.”
“Since when do you do Jeff’s bidding for him?”
“Since everything stopped making sense. I need for this to make sense.”
“It may not, Mitch. A lot of times things just get more and more confusing.”
“That’s not what I need to hear tonight, Des. Tonight I need to hear that life is nothing but one big long Frank Capra movie. And I actually detest Frank Capra-with the possible exception of Dirigible with Jack Holt and Fay Wray.”
“My miss,” she said, flashing a smile at him. “And thanks for the heads-up. I’ll pass it along to Rico.”
“Abby’s been sleeping with her escort, too-a big goon named Frankie. I don’t know his last name, but he might be worth lookinginto. Meanwhile, get this, Jeff’s actually been two-timing Martine with her very own-”
“With Esme. Yes, I know.”
“Esme told you?”
“She had to. Jeff’s her alibi. And, believe me, the news came as a real unpleasant surprise to Martine. I had to pull her off of the girl.”
“What did Jeff say about it?”
“He backs Esme up all the way. At the time of Tito’s death, she was getting busy with him at his condo. Yolie and I confirmed it with him this afternoon.”
“Hmm, that means each of them is the other’s alibi…”
“Where do you think you’re going with that?”
“Nowhere,” Mitch said, as they floated along. “Except, well, what if Esme and Jeff killed Tito together?”
“Why would they?”
“Revenge. He hated Tito for getting it on with Abby. Esme hated him because he beat on her and cheated on her. Do we know for a fact that Tito’s killer acted alone?”
“Mitch, we don’t know anything for a fact,” she said wearily, glancing over at him. “You cast an awesome glow in the moonlight, you know that?”
“You’ve obviously never gone skinny-dipping with a white boy when the moon was full.”
“No, I’m serious, Mitch. Check out your stomach-you look like you’ve swallowed something radioactive.”
“Only because my stomach happens to be sticking up out of the water,” Mitch growled at her. “But thanks for pointing it out to me, slats.”
“What I’m here for, doughboy,” she said sweetly. “Got anything else for me?”
He fed her the highlights of his morning. How he and Will had walked in on Dodge and Becca having rough sex together. How Becca had told him she and Dodge were taking a midnight stroll on the beach together when Tito died, meaning that he had someone to vouch for his whereabouts-and Martine very likely didn’t.
“Why would Martine want to kill her own son-in-law?” she wondered.
“Maybe she was romantically involved with Tito, too. Maybe he broke her poor, cheatin’ heart. It makes about as much sense as Martine and Esme both having extramarital affairs with Jeff Wachtell. I mean, once you get your mind around that unwholesome factoid nothing seems out of the realm of possibility, does it?”
“Now that you mention it, no.”
“Did Esme know about Jeff and her mom?”
“Totally, judging by the little smirk on her face when she gave out with the news. It was her own special way of inflicting pain on mommy dearest. For what specific reason I don’t know.”
“I do, Des,” Mitch said quietly. And now he told her about how Dodge started molesting Esme when she was fifteen. How Martine had refused to believe her. How Esme had attempted suicide. How Dodge had long been a plague on Dorset’s young girls and Will had been his enabler, in exchange for future considerations.
Des listened in stony silence before she said, “Well, that does explain the way Esme reacted this morning when Martine smacked her.”
“How did she?…”
“Like she’d been getting smacked around her whole life.”
“What, you think Dodge beat her up?”
“Believe me, a bright, beautiful fifteen-year-old girl doesn’t spread her legs for daddy without a fight. I’m with you, Mitch-she hates her mom for not protecting her. But I don’t buy that Martine didn’t know what was going on. She knew. That’s why she was so anxious to go to the police this morning. Because the longer this drags out, the deeper we’ll dig. And she’s terrified we’ll unearth it. How did you hear about it, anyway?”
“From Bitsy. Becca told her. I don’t think anyone else knows, except for Will.”
“And possibly Tito. Esme may have told him.”
Mitch glanced over at her, wondering where her mind was going. “Bitsy said I could tell you this. Does Soave have to know about it?”
“Maybe I can withhold it from him,” Des answered slowly. “If it’s not vital to the investigation, that is.”
He smiled at her. “You’re one of us now, you know that?”
“One of who?”
“A Dorseteer.”
“Let’s not get carried away, doughboy. I said maybe.”
“Sure, sure. Are you getting cold?” he asked, paddling gently to stay afloat.
“A little, but I’m okay. You?”
“I’m fine. This is why I maintain the extra layer of subcutaneous fat.”
“So that’s it.”
“Ab-so-tootly.”
“Mitch, I want you to promise me you’ll never say that word again.”
“Promise,” he said, grinning at her. “Bitsy did tell me one other thing about the Crocketts-they’re so strapped for cash that Martine can’t write a check anywhere in town. Apparently, just to round out the whole bogus illusion, Dodge sucks as a businessman.” He gazed back ashore at Bitsy’s rambling house. There were several lights on upstairs, a porch light downstairs. “She’s real worried about Becca being mixed up with him again. Becca’s fragile and vulnerable, and there’s no way that having some guy stuff your panties in your mouth can be good for your… Oh, hell, never mind.”
“No, it’s okay, baby. What are trying to tell me?”
“I just don’t want to be friends with Dodge anymore, that’s all.”
“I don’t blame you. But what about the Mesmers?”
“I won’t be walking w
ith them again.”
“I’m sorry, Mitch.”
“So am I. That was something I really looked forward to doing every morning. But I can’t now. Not without my skin crawling. Would you believe Will actually defended the guy to me this morning? ‘Don’t judge him,’ is what he said. He and Donna are having some problems of their own, by the way. Donna told me.”
“Since when does Donna Durslag talk to you about her marriage?”
“Since she had one too many margaritas at the beach club.”
“Sounds like maybe she made her a little play for you, too.”
“Jealous?”
“I already told you. I’ll ask the questions, mister.”
“Des, I don’t belong around these people,” Mitch confessed. “I gave it my best shot. I tried to be a normal, socialized member of the species. But if this is what passes for normal-”
“Believe me, Mitch, this is normal. It’s what I deal with every single day of my life.”
“Then I’m proud to be a maladjusted geek who sits in the dark by myself all day, staring at flickering images on a wall.” He reached for her hand in the water and found it and squeezed it. “When do people stop surprising you?”
“They don’t. But the surprise doesn’t always have to be an unpleasant one. In fact, when you least expect it, you might bump right into somebody who just makes you feel good all over.”
“Are you trying to cheer me up?”
“Actually, that was me flirting with you shamelessly. Not very good at it, am I?”
“That all depends-do you put out?”
“Only for a certain glowing gentleman.”
Mitch maneuvered his way over closer to her and planted a salty kiss on her wet, cold mouth. “Am I that gentleman?”
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