45

When I’m stuck,” Healy said, “I go over it.”

“All of it,” Jesse said.

“Start at page one of my notebook and go page by page all the way through.”

It was Sunday. They were on his balcony looking at the harbor. Healy had a can of beer. Jesse was drinking Coke. Jenn was in the production office looking at videotape. On the floor of the patio a thick-bodied, middle-aged Welsh corgi lay on his side, his eyes closed, his nose pointed at the ocean. Jesse had put a soup bowl full of water near him. The soup bowl was white with a blue line around the rim.

“I know,” Jesse said.

“But you don’t want to,” Healy said.

“I don’t.”

“I’ll do it with you,” Healy said. “A second set of ears.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Sure.”

“It’ll take all day.”

“Not a problem,” Healy said.

“Something bad going on at your house?” Jesse said.

“My wife’s younger brother is visiting with his wife,” Healy said. “They have young children.”

“You don’t care for young children.”

“Neither one of us,” Healy said. “But it’s her brother.”

“And the dog?”

“They annoy the hell out of Buck,” Healy said. “When he can, he bites them.”

“So it wasn’t all about helping me when you dropped by.”

“It was nothing about that,” Healy said. “Why don’t you get your notebook.”

Jesse went to his bedroom and got the notebook and brought it back.

“You want another beer?” he said.

“No,” Healy said. “I’m fine.”

Jesse always marveled at people who could nurse any drink. He had already finished his Coke.

“Okay,” he said. “She washes ashore near the town wharf….”

And they went through it. Incident by incident. Interview by interview. Day by day.

“Cruz broad sounds pretty good,” Healy said at one point.

Jesse nodded.

“People don’t always work that hard to clear somebody else’s case,” Healy said.

“I think she’s kind of hooked into it,” Jesse said. “Talking to all the people.”

Healy nodded.

“Happens,” he said.

Jesse went on.

“I went aboard when everyone was at the clambake,” he read.

“With a warrant,” Healy said.

Jesse smiled, and didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Healy said. “No warrant. I, of course, don’t know that and never thought to ask.”

“Absolutely,” Jesse said.

He went on. Healy listened. At one point Buck got up and drank water loudly from the blue-rimmed soup bowl. When he was through he went back to where had been, turned around twice and reassumed his position, with his nose pointed seaward.

“The twins told their parents they were in Europe,” Jesse said. “But they were actually in Sag Harbor, New York, with some guy named Carlos Coca.”

“You check that?” Healy said.

“No.”

“There’s a loose end,” Healy said.

“Here’s another one,” Jesse said. “They say they learned of their sister’s death from someone named Kimmy Young.”

“Haven’t checked her out, either,” Healy said.

“No.”

“Happens,” Healy said.

“Shouldn’t,” Jesse said.

Healy shrugged.

“Where’s Kimmy Young from?”

“Don’t know,” Jesse said. “I assume South Florida.”

“I’ll bet Kelly Cruz can find her,” Healy said.

Jesse nodded. He went back to the notes. It was late afternoon when they finished. Jesse had drunk four Cokes. Healy had nearly finished his beer.

“You don’t like to drink?” Jesse said when he picked up the can and found it not quite empty.

“I like to drink,” Healy said. “But I only like to drink a small amount.”

“Hard to imagine,” Jesse said.

“Never liked being drunk,” Healy said.

Jesse nodded. Jenn came in through the front door and walked to the balcony. Buck raised his head, looked at her carefully and put his head back down. Jenn saw Healy’s beer can. Jesse saw her eyes flick to him. She saw the Coca-Cola can.

“Captain Healy,” Jenn said with a big smile. “How nice to see you.”

Jenn was dressed in what she considered weekend leisure wear. Yellow running shoes with pale green laces. Green cargo pants with a studded yellow belt. A yellow top, a choker of green beads around her neck and jade earrings.

“Nice to see you, too,” Healy said. “Nice to see you here.”

“I know,” Jenn said.

Jenn crouched on her heels beside the dog. The movement made the cargo pants very smooth along her thighs and butt. Buck opened his black eyes and made a small movement with his miniscule tail.

“Is that a wag,” Jenn said.

“It is.”

“What’s his name?”

“Buck.”

“May I pat him?” she said.

“Sure,” Healy said. “He only bites kids.”

“Can’t blame him for that, can we?”

“Hell no,” Healy said. “Bite them myself if I wasn’t worried about my pension.”