“Why do you look so surprised?” Abra asked as they started out.
“I got used to people I knew in my other life . . . we’ll say, either pretending not to know me or just walking away.”
She rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Not everyone’s an asshole,” she said.
And they walked out to where Wolfe stood by Eli’s car. For a moment, past and present overlapped.
“Nice flowers.”
“And legal,” Abra said cheerfully. “They have more nice ones inside if you’re in the mood.”
“You’ve got business in Boston?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Eli.
“As a matter of fact.” He started to step around Wolfe to open the car door for Abra.
“Why don’t you explain what business you had in Duncan’s office building, asking questions?”
“That’s legal, too.” Eli handed the flowers to Abra to free his hands.
“Some people can’t resist going back to the scene of the crime.”
“And some can’t resist beating a dead horse. Is there anything else, Detective?”
“Just that I’m going to keep on digging. The horse isn’t buried yet.”
“Oh, that’s just enough!” Incensed, Abra shoved the flowers back at Eli, then dug into her bag. “Here, take a look. This is the man who’s been breaking into Bluff House.”
“Abra—”
“No.” She rounded on Eli. “Enough. This is the man I saw in the bar that night, and the man who most likely grabbed me when I was in Bluff House. This is the man who almost certainly killed Duncan Kirby—someone you knew—and then planted the gun in my house before making that anonymous call to you. And if you’d stop being ridiculous you’d ask yourself why Justin Suskind bought a house in Whiskey Beach, why he hired Duncan, why he killed him. Maybe he didn’t kill Lindsay, but maybe he did. Maybe he knows something because he’s a criminal. So be a cop and do something about it.”
She grabbed the flowers back, wrenched open the door herself. “Enough,” she repeated, and slammed it shut.
“Your girlfriend’s got a temper.”
“You push buttons, Detective. I’m going to visit my grandmother, then I’m going back to Whiskey Beach. I’m going to live my life. You do whatever you have to do.”
He got in the car, yanked on his seat belt and drove away.
“I’m sorry.” Leaning her head back, Abra closed her eyes a moment, tried to find her center again. “I’m sorry, I probably made it worse.”
“No, you didn’t. You surprised him. And the sketch of Suskind surprised him. I don’t know what he’ll do about it, but you caught him off guard.”
“Small consolation. I don’t like him, and nothing he does or doesn’t do is going to change that. Now . . .” She let out a couple of long, deep breaths. “Clear the air, settle the mind. I don’t want Hester to see I’m upset.”
“I thought it was mad.”
“Not that different.”
“It is when you do it.”
She thought that over as he turned the last corner to the Beacon Hill house.
And this, she decided, was more Eli. Maybe because the house exuded, to her, the sense of history and generational family. She liked the feel of it, the lines, the landscape so long established, colored now with early spring bloomers.
She put the flowers back in his hand as they walked to the door. “The good grandson.”
And they went in to see Hester.
They found her in her sitting room with a sketchbook, a glass of cold tea and a small plate of cookies. Setting the sketchbook and her pencil aside, she held out both hands.
“Just what I needed to cheer up my day.”
“You look tired,” Eli said immediately.
“I have good reason. I just finished my daily physical therapy. You just missed meeting the Marquis de Sade.”
“If it’s too hard on you, we should—”
“Oh, stop.” She waved that away with one impatient flick of the wrist. “Jim’s wonderful, and has a nice sharp humor that keeps me on my toes. He knows what I can handle, and how hard to push. But after a session, I’m tired out. Now I’m reviving seeing both of you, and those gorgeous flowers.”
“I thought I might have to step in, point Eli in the right direction, but it turns out he has excellent taste. Why don’t I take them down to Carmel, so we can put them in a vase for you?”
“Thank you. Have you had lunch? We can all go down. Eli, give me a hand.”
“Why don’t you just sit for a while first.” To close that deal, he sat himself.