So he wasn’t going to tell her what he was doing this evening. Maybe she could take him down on the beach again, and after she kicked him a couple of times, she could cover him like a spandex wet suit. “Why would Mom do that? I mean, why would she have to?”

“Well, Mary Lisa, I think Kelly may have told her she was going to come over to my office. I’d just gotten back from the D.A.’s office, tired and hungry, and she was waiting there to tell me she was making spaghetti and meatballs with garlic toast and spinach salad, and I should come over for dinner.”

Deep, dead silence. He had the nerve to laugh.

“I hope you enjoyed the meal.” You jerk. She disconnected.

Her phone rang three seconds later.

“Ouch. Don’t hang up again, Mary Lisa. Okay, the truth is I didn’t go to dinner with her, but I’ll tell you, it was tough to turn down. I was really hungry.”

“You’re a sorry excuse for a man.”

“Yes, well, uh, tell me, is it a beautiful night down there?”

“Oh, yes, it’s calm and warm. The moonlight is making the ocean glitter like there are diamonds strewn on top of it. Is it warm in Goddard Bay?”

“Nah, cold as January and fog thick enough to keep you indoors with some good home-cooked chili, wishing for someone to huddle up with for warmth.”

Cold as January? That meant pajamas or a blanket to his neck. That was a pity. “Well, don’t drive off a cliff in the fog,” she said, in a voice that sounded like she was going to hang up again.

“Wait a second, Mary Lisa, let me tell you what happened up here this afternoon.”

“Okay, what happened? You solve the case?”

“Not quite yet. Pitty Pat called me, said to come over to the Maynard house-that’s where the murdered son-in-law lived with his wife, Marci.”

“She’s living there by herself?”

“Yep. You’re not going to believe this.”

“Okay, hotshot, I’m all atwitter. What happened?”

Jack yawned really big, and Mary Lisa could swear he was scratching his belly. Her heart did a mad leap. “I pull in the driveway right behind John’s Beemer. He’s standing next to the living room window. He hears me, waves me over. He whispers, ‘Your timing’s perfect. Take a look.’”

He paused again-this time on purpose, for effect. “Have you ever thought of being an actor, Jack? That’s some timing shtick you’ve got there. Okay, what did you see?”

“The murdered husband’s widow-Marci-she was on her knees doing a Paris Hilton on her dead husband’s older brother, Mick.”

“What?”

“You remember Mick Maynard, don’t you? He owns a local auto repair shop on Indiana Avenue. He’s been divorced about three years now, his ex took the kids to live in Salem.”

“But that’s nuts!”

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you John was so shocked he could hardly get enough spit in his mouth to say anything.”

“But why would Marci do that? I know I told you I didn’t like her in high school, but I wasn’t really all that serious. But this? I mean, her husband’s murdered, her father’s now murdered too-”

“Agreed.”

“Well, whatever the reason, you’re a couple of Peeping Toms, pretending it’s okay because you’re a cop. You’re disgusting, Jack Wolf.”

“Well, not really. It’s an investigation. Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t necessary to look.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Okay, what happened?”

He had the gall to laugh at her.

“Come on, Jack, tell me you and John left immediately, tell me you didn’t keep looking.”

“Actually, we did stop looking. It felt too weird. We gave them another ten minutes since neither of us knew what-well, never mind that. Then we went to the door.”

“Wait a minute here.” Mary Lisa sputtered into the phone. “You said John called you to come over. Are you telling me she was on her knees for more than ten minutes?”

Jack grinned. “I wondered the same thing. John said there were lots of preliminaries. The main feature started a couple of minutes before I drove up.” He paused. “Do you want me to go on?”

She cleared her throat. “Please do.”

“Like I said, after ten minutes we knocked on the front door. Mick answered. He had a beer in his hand and he had this complacent smirk on his face-every guy in the universe knows that look.”

“So does every woman, you jackass.”

“Maybe, but like I said, a guy always knows. So Mick gives us both this look like I ain’t feeling no pain and you schmucks are and offers us a beer. Then Marci comes out and she’s all chirpy, got this flush on her cheeks. John tells Marci he’d like to speak to her and you know what? She looks at Mick, silently asking him what to do. He gives her a little nod, hands her his beer can, stretches, and tells us he’ll be leaving us to it and out the door he goes.”

“Don’t tell me he was whistling.”

“Could have been. So John asks Marci how long she’s been seeing Mick, you know, he’s trying to ease into it, but she sings right out that it’s been a week now and he’s made her feel so much better about things. How after Jason’s murder he was such a comfort to her, but now-she stops talking and stands there and glows. And John and I are thinking about how she’s certainly made old Mick feel better.”

“I’m sorry, Jack, but I have to say it. That’s incredibly tacky. Her husband was murdered such a short time ago.”

“Not to mention her dad. We asked her about who could have killed her father, asked her whether she or her mother had visited the Goddard Bay Inn. She claimed she didn’t know a thing, that her mother adored her father and wouldn’t ever have hurt him, that she was devastated. Meanwhile, she’s still glowing. Then a yapping dog comes racing into the living room and she gets all kissy-face with it. She says she’s devastated too and she’s so grateful to Mick for helping her get through this nightmare. When I ask her how long Mick’s been on the scene, she loses her glow and gets all huffy. She claims she was never unfaithful to Jason-what a horrible thing that would be for us to think-particularly since Jason was Mick’s younger brother. Anyway, that’s all that’s happened up here. I know you want more details, Mary Lisa, but I’m a cop and all those little details are privileged info. Hey, I’m glad you called. Do you think you can go to sleep now?”

“I sure hope so. Hey, I’m nearly nodding off into the phone.”

He laughed. “Sure you are.”

“Thanks for getting my mind off my own troubles. Did I ever tell you I think you’re a good man? Good night, Jack.” She disconnected, pleased she’d managed not to ask him if he was wearing pajamas.

FORTY-EIGHT

Chris Noth played Lucky on As the World Turns before his role on Law & Order.

BORN TO BE WILD

Sunday Cavendish walks into her grandfather’s library, past paneled bookshelves filled with books, dark leather furniture, and thick draperies. It’s old-money rich, understated and elegant.

“Hello, Grandfather.”

Nelson Blakeney Cavendish II, eighty-one years old, looking frail but with a lovely head of white hair, is sitting in a big leather chair reading the newspaper. He looks up, nods.

She walks to the leather chair opposite him and sits down. “My father is in town.”

She watches him closely as she says it. Slowly, he folds the newspaper and lays it on his lap. “Your mother told me.” He shrugs. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t told me. I understand that Grandmother eavesdropped on your conversation with him twenty-seven years ago, that you tried to kill him with a gun but he took it away from you.”

The old man doesn’t hesitate, shrugs. “I’m glad he did. It would have been difficult to keep his death by gunshot out of the papers and behind the doors in the D.A.’s office.”

“Difficult even for you?”