“Head nigger,” Claudia said.

Both girls giggled again.

“But Darnell reorganized?” Jesse said.

“He dumped her,” Corliss said. “For Blondie Martin.”

“And Florence took this video on his boat to make him jealous?” Jesse said.

“She would never do it with him,” Claudia said.

“Harrison was always after her to go with him and Tommy Ralston,” Corliss said.

“But she wouldn’t.”

“No. But when he dumped her . . .”

“She done it with a couple of former crew guys, and sent him the tape.”

2 0 2

S E A C H A N G E

“To make him jealous.”

“Yeah.”

“Did it work?”

“He sent for her,” Corliss said. “Flew her up to Boston.”

“There’s no record of her flying to Boston,” Jesse said.

“He had his pilot fly her up in his private plane.”

“When?”

“Beginning of June,” Corliss said.

“She told us he was up here early for Race Week and she was going to join him.”

“What is the pilot’s name?” Jesse said.

The sisters looked at each other. They both shrugged.

“Larry,” Corliss said.

“Last name?”

They both shook their heads.

“Just Larry is all we ever knew,” Claudia said.

They watched the Swan Boats for a time. Some squirrels darted among the attendant pigeons, hoping for a peanut.

“So how come you didn’t tell me any of this before?” Jesse said.

Both sisters shrugged.

“I guess we thought you’d be mad,” Corliss said.

“Mad?”

“You know, about us sneaking on the boat and taking the pictures. We were afraid you’d say something to Willis and Betsy,” Claudia said.

“Your parents?”

“Yes.”

2 0 3

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Why do you care?” Jesse said.

“They still got some control of our trust funds.”

“Of course,” Jesse said. “So why’d you come up here and see me?”

“We liked Flo. We felt bad about her.”

“And you wanted to know what I knew,” Jesse said. “For fear it might come out.”

“If someone hurt Flo,” Claudia said, “we wanted to know.

We wanted to help.”

“So you set up headquarters here,” Jesse said, glancing behind him at the hotel, “and began to ferret out the truth.”

“We’re having a pretty good time here,” Corliss said. “You ever do two guys and a woman?”

“No.”

“We like two women and a guy,” Claudia said, and pressed her breast against Jesse’s left shoulder.

It had no part in the investigation. The question wasn’t professional. But Jesse couldn’t help it.

“Ever think about love?” Jesse said.

The twins stared at him for a time and then giggled.

2 0 4

43

Leaning their backsides against the trunk of her car, Kelly Cruz and Larry Barnes stood and talked and watched the private planes land and take off from Fort Lauderdale Executive Airport.

“You flew Florence Horvath up to Boston,” Kelly Cruz said, “in June.”

“Yeah, sure, I remember, last month.”

“That would be June,” Kelly Cruz said.

Barnes grinned at her. He had a thick black mustache and longish hair and big aviator glasses and a short-sleeved white shirt. And his big silver wristwatch looked complex. Neatly R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

across his right forearm just above the wrist was a tattoo that read bad news.

“Tell me about the trip,” Kelly Cruz said.

“Mr. Darnell called, said he wanted me to bring her up.

Told me she’d be in touch to arrange the schedule.”

“Darnell often do this?”

Barnes’s face didn’t change, but somehow Kelly Cruz knew he was amused.

“Often,” he said.

“With different women?”

“Often,” Barnes said.

“Anything unusual about this flight?”

“She required Cristal on ice instead of Krug.”

“What was Florence Horvath like?” Kelly Cruz said.

Barnes looked at her and she knew he was even more amused.

“How much of this is on the record,” Barnes said.

“Only the questions of fact. Did you take her? When? At whose request? Your opinions are between me and you.”

Barnes nodded.

“She was like about two hundred other bimbettes I’ve transported,” Barnes said. “Blond, stupid, sure she was sexy.

Asked me if I had ever done it at thirty thousand feet.”

Kelly Cruz nodded.

“And you left her in Boston,” she said.

“Private terminal. Carried her bags in for her. She was pretty well fried. Gave her to the limo driver. Got the plane serviced, refueled, came on home.”

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S E A C H A N G E

“Happen to know what limo company?”

Barnes shook his head.

“Nope. Just a limo guy with a sign,” he said.

“And you never went back to get her,” Kelly Cruz said.

“No. I usually didn’t. Most of the babes were one-way. I’d fly them someplace and Mr. Darnell would sail them home.”

“Know anybody named Thomas Ralston?”

“Fat guy, thinks he looks better than he does?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly Cruz said. “I’ve never seen him. I’m helping out some police up north.”

“What is this all about, anyway?” Barnes said.

Kelly Cruz smiled.

“So you know Thomas Ralston?”

“Yeah, sure, I think so. Mr. Ralston. He flies a lot with Mr.

Darnell.”

“Where?”

“Ports usually. Crew sails the boat somewhere and Darnell meets them there. I guess Ralston has the same deal. I never asked.”

“Did you fly either of them up to Boston?” Kelly Cruz said.

“Not this year.”

“Anyone fly with them?”

“Usual bevy of beauties,” Barnes said. “They get drunk.

Do some dope.”

“Sex?”

He shrugged and gestured.

“I stay up front,” he said. “But yeah, I’d say quite a lot.”

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R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“And you know this how?”

Barnes looked at her for a moment with the expressionless hint of humor that he projected.

“Ah, trace evidence,” he said.

“Thank you,” Kelly Cruz said, and closed her notebook.

“What’d they do up north?” Barnes said.

Kelly Cruz took a card out of her purse, and gave it to him.

“Florence Horvath died up there under unusual circumstances,” she said. “You think of anything interesting, call me.”

Barnes took the card.

“They think Darnell killed her?”

“I don’t know what their theory of the case is,” Kelly Cruz said. “I’m just asking questions for them.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of something sort of interesting right now,” he said.

“Not at thirty thousand feet,” Kelly Cruz said.

“’Course not,” Barnes said. “Who’s going to fly the plane?”

2 0 8

44

J esse and Molly sat at the conference table in the squad room. The sound of shout-ing and loud bad singing came from the

four-cell jail wing.

“Hark,” Jesse said.

“Drunk and disorderly,” Molly said. “On Front Street.”

“Today?”

“Un-huh.”

Jesse looked at his watch.

“It’s ten in the morning,” he said.

“No time to waste,” Molly said.

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

Jesse nodded. Molly had a big yellow legal-sized pad of blue-lined paper in front of her.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what we’ve got. We know Florence Horvath was alive when she came up here first week in June. We can probably pin that down exactly if we need to.”

Molly made a note. Jesse stood and walked the length of the squad room and looked out the back window at the Public Works garage behind the station.

“And we know she was dead when she washed ashore the beginning of Race Week.”

“July twelfth,” Molly said.

“ME says she’s been in the water at least a couple weeks, maybe longer,” Jesse said. “She was alive when she went in the water, but exact cause of death is uncertain due to the ratty condition of the body.”