no
policia.
I don’t know nothing about nothing.’
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry,’ Whit soothed. ‘One other question. The woman named Velvet. You see her around much?’
Ernesto smiled. ‘Velvet. Yes. She bakes good chocolate cookies. Every few days give some to me.’
Velvet baking cookies. Whit tried to summon the image and pictured a hausfrau in a leather apron and stiletto heels.
‘You ever see her bake an éclair?’ Gooch asked with a leer. Ernesto looked confused, so Whit asked: ‘Did she and Pete get
along okay?’
‘Sure, yeah.’
‘She mess around with any of the guys around the marina?’ Gooch asked.
‘No. She nice.’ Ernesto put the bright smile back on. End of commentary.
‘Gracias.
I appreciate it, Ernesto.’ Whit shook his hand. Ernesto hurried back toward the marina office.
‘I’m guessing the rich lady was Lucinda,’ Gooch said. ‘Unless there’s a bored matron around here in need of sexual servicing.
Your stepmother, for instance.’
‘Funny, with a hint of vicious.’
‘You could outdo Pete Hubble on the annoying-your-relatives scale if you do your Oedipus impersonation, Whitman.’
‘Jesus, Gooch, you’re a crank. I’m finding a place to live right after the campaign …’
‘Ah, yes. The campaign. Waging a fierce one, aren’t you? I particularly enjoyed your interview on
Face the Nation.’
‘Are you done?’
‘Whit, please campaign today. The thought of Buddy Beere at the bench makes me want to move to a judicially sound country.
Like Cuba.’
Whit’s cell phone buzzed. ‘Hello?’
‘Whit? It’s Faith.’ She sounded crisper this morning, less frayed with shock.
‘How are you?’
‘We’re holding up. Lucinda finally slept last night; Sam slept with me. To just get his dad back and then … it’s a hard thing
for a kid.’
‘I need to talk to y’all. For the inquest.’
‘Would this afternoon work for you?’
‘Yeah. How about four?’
‘Fine.’ Her voice lowered. ‘I wish I could see you … just us. I could use a hug. Or something stronger.’
He didn’t flirt back, watching a gull alight on the bow of
Real Shame.
‘How’s Sam handling this?’
‘My son is a tightly controlled mass of nerves. He’s upset but he doesn’t want to show that he is. His father did matter to
him, even a lousy SOB like Pete.’ Her tone turned bitter. ‘A father always would.’
‘What can I do to help?’
He meant to help Sam, but Faith took the inches and made them miles. ‘Please just … hurry us through all this legal rigmarole.
Don’t drag it out with a public inquest hearing. Help me protect Lucinda and Sam fromwhat is sure to be unpleasantness, Whit. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?’ Her tone, usually cool, even in wriggles of heat,
took on a slightly cajoling tone.
‘I’ll do what I can.’
The quiet stretched. But she finally said, ‘I appreciate it. I’ll see you at the house later.’
Whit clicked off his phone. Gooch studied a tidal chart and yawned.
‘I must have a gift certificate for unwanted advice. Do this, do that. Rule it’s suicide. Don’t hold a formal inquest.’
Gooch raised a crooked brown eyebrow. ‘Rule how you please. Judge, and screw ’em if they can’t take a joke.’
13
Velvet came awake suddenly, in the bright haze from the motel windows. She rubbed her eyes and thought:
So now starts the rest of your life, babe. What are you going to do?
Sleep remained impossible after that priss-assed cop dropped her off at the motel. She lay awake, listening to the hum of
the air conditioner as it chilled the room, and the gentle bump of her heart as she hugged a goose-feather pillow close to
her body.
Pete dead. And only yesterday he’d said to her:
I’m not gonna do another flick with you until all this with my brother is settled, understand? You can help me or you can
fly your ass back to California, but I’m not leaving now.
She’d pouted, furious.
Well, if you loved me you
policia.
I don’t know nothing about nothing.’
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry,’ Whit soothed. ‘One other question. The woman named Velvet. You see her around much?’
Ernesto smiled. ‘Velvet. Yes. She bakes good chocolate cookies. Every few days give some to me.’
Velvet baking cookies. Whit tried to summon the image and pictured a hausfrau in a leather apron and stiletto heels.
‘You ever see her bake an éclair?’ Gooch asked with a leer. Ernesto looked confused, so Whit asked: ‘Did she and Pete get
along okay?’
‘Sure, yeah.’
‘She mess around with any of the guys around the marina?’ Gooch asked.
‘No. She nice.’ Ernesto put the bright smile back on. End of commentary.
‘Gracias.
I appreciate it, Ernesto.’ Whit shook his hand. Ernesto hurried back toward the marina office.
‘I’m guessing the rich lady was Lucinda,’ Gooch said. ‘Unless there’s a bored matron around here in need of sexual servicing.
Your stepmother, for instance.’
‘Funny, with a hint of vicious.’
‘You could outdo Pete Hubble on the annoying-your-relatives scale if you do your Oedipus impersonation, Whitman.’
‘Jesus, Gooch, you’re a crank. I’m finding a place to live right after the campaign …’
‘Ah, yes. The campaign. Waging a fierce one, aren’t you? I particularly enjoyed your interview on
Face the Nation.’
‘Are you done?’
‘Whit, please campaign today. The thought of Buddy Beere at the bench makes me want to move to a judicially sound country.
Like Cuba.’
Whit’s cell phone buzzed. ‘Hello?’
‘Whit? It’s Faith.’ She sounded crisper this morning, less frayed with shock.
‘How are you?’
‘We’re holding up. Lucinda finally slept last night; Sam slept with me. To just get his dad back and then … it’s a hard thing
for a kid.’
‘I need to talk to y’all. For the inquest.’
‘Would this afternoon work for you?’
‘Yeah. How about four?’
‘Fine.’ Her voice lowered. ‘I wish I could see you … just us. I could use a hug. Or something stronger.’
He didn’t flirt back, watching a gull alight on the bow of
Real Shame.
‘How’s Sam handling this?’
‘My son is a tightly controlled mass of nerves. He’s upset but he doesn’t want to show that he is. His father did matter to
him, even a lousy SOB like Pete.’ Her tone turned bitter. ‘A father always would.’
‘What can I do to help?’
He meant to help Sam, but Faith took the inches and made them miles. ‘Please just … hurry us through all this legal rigmarole.
Don’t drag it out with a public inquest hearing. Help me protect Lucinda and Sam fromwhat is sure to be unpleasantness, Whit. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?’ Her tone, usually cool, even in wriggles of heat,
took on a slightly cajoling tone.
‘I’ll do what I can.’
The quiet stretched. But she finally said, ‘I appreciate it. I’ll see you at the house later.’
Whit clicked off his phone. Gooch studied a tidal chart and yawned.
‘I must have a gift certificate for unwanted advice. Do this, do that. Rule it’s suicide. Don’t hold a formal inquest.’
Gooch raised a crooked brown eyebrow. ‘Rule how you please. Judge, and screw ’em if they can’t take a joke.’
13
Velvet came awake suddenly, in the bright haze from the motel windows. She rubbed her eyes and thought:
So now starts the rest of your life, babe. What are you going to do?
Sleep remained impossible after that priss-assed cop dropped her off at the motel. She lay awake, listening to the hum of
the air conditioner as it chilled the room, and the gentle bump of her heart as she hugged a goose-feather pillow close to
her body.
Pete dead. And only yesterday he’d said to her:
I’m not gonna do another flick with you until all this with my brother is settled, understand? You can help me or you can
fly your ass back to California, but I’m not leaving now.
She’d pouted, furious.
Well, if you loved me you
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