sobbing.
“Why did I tell you to be careful around girls?” Jem asked.
“The same reason you’re careful around boys.”
“Which is what?”
“You don’t want your dick to do your thinking for you.”
“Right. And what else?”
“It’s easy to believe someone likes you because everybody wants to be liked.”
“That’s right,” Jem said. “And people will believe anything if they want it to be true. Even you. Even me.”
Benny just shrugged.
“What’s her name?” Jem asked again.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
“Anyway, I won’t be your problem for much longer,” Benny said. “They’re going to kill me.”
“You’re not a problem. And nobody’s going to kill you, Benny.”
“They are. I know too much; it’s all right here. They have to get rid of me.”
“Benny, I know you don’t like how you feel on the meds, but you can’t just go off them. We’ll go see the doctor again. We’ll find something that helps you and doesn’t make you feel bad.”
Benny shrugged.
“How’s your pump?”
“Fine.”
“Insulin?”
“Fine.”
“Did you test your blood sugar?”
“It’s fine, Jem.”
“When’s the last time you tested it?”
“Dunno.”
“Ok, I’ll get a strip.”
“This morning.”
“Benjamin Lindsey Guthall, if you are lying to me, I will beat your ass.”
He flashed Jem a wounded look. “I checked it this morning.”
After that, there wasn’t much Jem could do. He conducted his final walkthrough and spotted the backpack with a pup tent strapped to the top. When he got back to the living room, he said, “Are you going to the Jenkins’ place?”
“Maybe.”
“No, we don’t play that way.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“When, Benny?”
“Tonight.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jem said.
“I don’t! I know too much, Jem. I’ve got to lie low for a while. I’ll be up there until it’s safe to come back.”
“Did you tell the Jenkins you were coming?”
“Not yet.”
“Fine. I’ll call them. Next week, Benny, we’re going to see your doctor, and we’re going to try different meds.”
Benny was reordering the pages in his lap.
“Tell me you heard me.”
“Ok, all right, I heard you.”
“What’s our rule?”
“You’ve got a million rules.”
“What’s our rule, Benny?”
“Cell phone on and charged, and I answer when you call.”
“Even if you’re in a movie.”
“Even if I’m in a movie,” Benny repeated.
“Even if you’re taking a dump.”
“You’re so gross.”
“Get up and give me a hug.”
“Jem,” Benny whined.
“Get your fat ass up.”
After some more groaning, Benny stood, and they hugged.
“Eat that before it’s cold,” Jem said, pointing at the lasagna, where the red sauce was already congealing.
Benny just nodded and mumbled.
Outside, at the bottom of the stairs, Tommy Johnson, twelve years old, was smoking a fatty blunt. His eyes were glazed when he looked up at Jem.
“That bad?” Jem asked.
Tommy blew a ring of smoke, his head sagging back as he stared at the October sky.
“Let me get a hit,” Jem said. Tommy passed it over, and Jem took a few long drags, holding the smoke, his eyes closed, letting the world soften. When he passed it back, he said, “You eat dinner?”
Tommy shook his head like he was in slow motion.
Digging out his last ten, Jem said, “Go get something to eat.”
Then Jem headed back into the city, trying to figure out the best place he could get an asshole to buy him a drink.
Acknowledgments
My deepest thanks go out to the following people (in alphabetical order):
Justene Adamec, for helping me tie up the ending with the rental truck, for suggesting family and friends at the wedding reception, for being willing to chat about Chief Riggle, and for catching so many of my errors.
Kate Collopy, for pointing out areas that needed clarification, catching typos, and most importantly, introducing me to Edward Tufte’s The Visual Display of Quantitative Information and his criticism of pie charts (and giving me another great Hazard joke).
Austin Gwin, for his support and encouragement, for helping me think back and reconsider the extent of Mitchell’s injury in The Rational Faculty, and for helping me think about the ‘torture dungeon’ in terms of the Saw movies.
Steve Leonard, for checking on The Price is Right showgirls, suggesting the chapter break in the climax, helping me understand why he found characters suspicious—and why he didn’t—and for keeping track of Hazard’s missed phone calls.
Cheryl Oakley, for her extensive edits, for checking and double-checking the wedding ‘surprise,’ for feedback on which jokes to keep, and for doing all this while also re-proofing the first six Hazard and Somerset mysteries—and going through some big life changes of her own!
Carole Rubin, for being the first to point out that Princeton doesn’t have a law school and for suggesting how my mistake might be put to good use. This book, especially Darnell’s role in it, would have been very different without her input!
Tray Stephenson, for pointing out so many of my errors, for always being ready to offer a kind word, and for his emails of encouragement and support.
Dianne Thies, for her keen editorial eye, for giving me the wonderful idea of Dulac being proud of being a suspect (I still love it so much!), for helping me keep track of continuity errors (where is Hazard’s wallet?), and for helping me think about issues that needed resolved in this book—and issues that I’m going to carry over to Hazard and Somers’s next adventures!
Jo Wegstein, for her incredible attention to detail, for helping me realize that Hazard would never throw a wet towel in a hamper (twice!) and, in doing so, setting up the next domestic dust-up; for helping me think through the denouement and the elements I needed to include; for bringing the sheriff back into the story; and for keeping me from running my pudding cup joke into the ground!
About the Author
Learn more about Gregory Ashe and forthcoming works at www.gregoryashe.com.
For advanced access, exclusive content, limited-time promotions, and insider information, please sign up for my mailing list here or at http://bit.ly/ashemailinglist.