Read Online The Price of Malice by Archer Mayor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Archer Mayor
Tags: Mystery
Ads: Link
late. Why don’t we wrap this up . . .”
Sam had raised her hand, like a schoolgirl. “Anything specific you want me to do tomorrow?”
“Wayne’s coworkers,” he told her succinctly. “Also, a Bratt PD cop—a new guy named Gary Nelson—interviewed two of Castine’s neighbors, one of whom saw Castine with a young girl he claimed was his niece. Reinterview that witness and see if you can’t get a fix on the girl. Also, there was one neighbor Nelson missed—could be the one who knows something.”
Sam didn’t look up from the notes she was taking. “Got it.”
Joe stood up. “All right. That’s it. Keep in touch. Reconvene here tomorrow at sixteen hundred, but send up a flare if you find anything hot before then.”
Everyone gathered their belongings—except Willy, of course, who merely sauntered out the door. Joe moved to his desk, pretending to settle in for some late-night paperwork, and waved good night to the last person to leave.
But he wasn’t interested in paperwork. What was on his mind had been plaguing him all day—and building for the past few weeks.
With a New Englander’s ingrained respect for personal privacy, he hadn’t intruded on Lyn’s request to be left alone. He had broken the news to her of the lobster boat’s discovery during a hike up Mt. Wantastiquet, across the river from downtown Brattleboro. The view had been spectacular, the weather perfect, her welcome of him earlierencouraging. He’d recognized the burden he had to share, guessed at the magnitude of its effect, but had hoped it might be tolerably borne, at least after the initial shock.
But it hadn’t been. It had crippled her, and then the two of them. He had tried to keep her company, quietly, supportively. She’d become almost mute, distracted, as if lost in an immense and all-consuming calculation. He had sensed himself changing in her eyes from someone she could just stand to a downright nuisance, before she’d finally affirmed the fact by asking him to keep his distance. She needed “space,” she’d told him, and he’d rarely hated a word more. At first, his distress had been all about her, enhanced by the guilt that he’d been the bearer of her bad news. With time, in her absence, missing her, his emotions had turned more selfish.
He didn’t doubt that this latest case had ratcheted up his desire to see her. Major investigations took time, cut into sleep, and destroyed all previously scheduled events, especially leisure ones. Weekends vanished, nine-to-five had no meaning. But it was also when the job became intoxicating, driving the brain into high gear, allowing adrenaline to replace sleep—and making him crave both a good sounding board, and some company in bed.
He envied Sam and Willy most now, and Lester with his wife, Susan. They all had someone with whom to share the odd thought that comes unexpectedly, over dinner or while taking a shower, the one that sometimes blows a case wide open. More importantly—even with Sam and Willy, who worked together days—such sharing could counterbalance the tension of the investigation with the need to fill a grocery list, or take out the trash, or make love and welcome oblivion.
Whatever his motivation or its timing, Joe missed her. Lyn hadreignited a love of companionship he hadn’t experienced in a long while. Things with Gail had hardened over time, often becoming couched in discourse and debate, disguising that their minds had gradually been asked to handle what had faded from their hearts.
The time Joe had spent with Lyn reminded him of how natural and uncomplicated a relationship could be.
And right now, he was longing for that enough to break his promise to her and act upon it.
Lyn’s bar on Elliot Street, like a reminder of the trouble between them, was named “Silva’s,” which she’d told him once was more in honor of her father than a reflection of her own last name. It was better than a going concern—it had been the proverbial
Sam had raised her hand, like a schoolgirl. “Anything specific you want me to do tomorrow?”
“Wayne’s coworkers,” he told her succinctly. “Also, a Bratt PD cop—a new guy named Gary Nelson—interviewed two of Castine’s neighbors, one of whom saw Castine with a young girl he claimed was his niece. Reinterview that witness and see if you can’t get a fix on the girl. Also, there was one neighbor Nelson missed—could be the one who knows something.”
Sam didn’t look up from the notes she was taking. “Got it.”
Joe stood up. “All right. That’s it. Keep in touch. Reconvene here tomorrow at sixteen hundred, but send up a flare if you find anything hot before then.”
Everyone gathered their belongings—except Willy, of course, who merely sauntered out the door. Joe moved to his desk, pretending to settle in for some late-night paperwork, and waved good night to the last person to leave.
But he wasn’t interested in paperwork. What was on his mind had been plaguing him all day—and building for the past few weeks.
With a New Englander’s ingrained respect for personal privacy, he hadn’t intruded on Lyn’s request to be left alone. He had broken the news to her of the lobster boat’s discovery during a hike up Mt. Wantastiquet, across the river from downtown Brattleboro. The view had been spectacular, the weather perfect, her welcome of him earlierencouraging. He’d recognized the burden he had to share, guessed at the magnitude of its effect, but had hoped it might be tolerably borne, at least after the initial shock.
But it hadn’t been. It had crippled her, and then the two of them. He had tried to keep her company, quietly, supportively. She’d become almost mute, distracted, as if lost in an immense and all-consuming calculation. He had sensed himself changing in her eyes from someone she could just stand to a downright nuisance, before she’d finally affirmed the fact by asking him to keep his distance. She needed “space,” she’d told him, and he’d rarely hated a word more. At first, his distress had been all about her, enhanced by the guilt that he’d been the bearer of her bad news. With time, in her absence, missing her, his emotions had turned more selfish.
He didn’t doubt that this latest case had ratcheted up his desire to see her. Major investigations took time, cut into sleep, and destroyed all previously scheduled events, especially leisure ones. Weekends vanished, nine-to-five had no meaning. But it was also when the job became intoxicating, driving the brain into high gear, allowing adrenaline to replace sleep—and making him crave both a good sounding board, and some company in bed.
He envied Sam and Willy most now, and Lester with his wife, Susan. They all had someone with whom to share the odd thought that comes unexpectedly, over dinner or while taking a shower, the one that sometimes blows a case wide open. More importantly—even with Sam and Willy, who worked together days—such sharing could counterbalance the tension of the investigation with the need to fill a grocery list, or take out the trash, or make love and welcome oblivion.
Whatever his motivation or its timing, Joe missed her. Lyn hadreignited a love of companionship he hadn’t experienced in a long while. Things with Gail had hardened over time, often becoming couched in discourse and debate, disguising that their minds had gradually been asked to handle what had faded from their hearts.
The time Joe had spent with Lyn reminded him of how natural and uncomplicated a relationship could be.
And right now, he was longing for that enough to break his promise to her and act upon it.
Lyn’s bar on Elliot Street, like a reminder of the trouble between them, was named “Silva’s,” which she’d told him once was more in honor of her father than a reflection of her own last name. It was better than a going concern—it had been the proverbial
Similar Books
