pulled off half of one of the drinks already.
"What is it?"
"How’d you happen to know Roy Marsh?"
"Oh," she said,
thumb and index dipping toward the slice of lime in her drink and
voice supremely casual, "He was my insurance agent."
* * *
From Marblehead I drove south, angling toward the
Marsh house. I wanted to have a talk with Sheilah Kelley, and I
remembered Chris mentioning she was off on Tuesdays. There was a car
in the driveway, but it wasn’t her little brown Toyota. The
brightly polished red Buick was at least ten years old. I pulled to
the curb three houses down and walked back up, ringing the bell in
front this time.
A burly older man in a lumberjack’s shirt yanked
open the door. He had bushy eyebrows, a longish crew cut, and
unfashionable muttonchop sideburns. He gave me a disgusted look and
said, "We don’t want any," as he swung the door closed.
I put my foot at the jamb and used the palm of my
hand to cushion the door’s arcing momentum. My greeter balled his
right into a fist and was setting himself when I heard Nurse
Sheilah’s voice from inside call, "Who is it, Dad?"
He yelled to her but kept his attention on me. "Just
some salesman who’s gonna need new teeth."
I shifted my rear leg for balance and reached for my
identification, saying, "Your daughter knows me, Mr. Kelley. I’m
a private investigator."
Sheilah came up behind him. Her eyes were bleary, her
nose so red it looked windburned. She said, "What do you want
now?"
Kelley wedged himself between her and me.
“ You’re the guy the cops wanted. The one who
killed Marsh and the hooker."
"Mr. Kelley, I didn’t kill them. But I was
involved, and I want to know why. Now we can stand here like this
till the leaves turn, or we can talk quietly inside. Your choice."
Kelley wanted to tty a punch, but his daughter slid
her hand inside his free arm and then tightened her fingers over his
bicep. "Dad, it’d be easier if we just let him in for a
while."
"We got a lot of packing to do yet. I wanna be
clear of here before the traffic starts."
"C’mon."
"I don’t wanna be sitting on four ninety-five
all day."
"Dad, please."
Kelley let go of the door and shook his daughter off
as I came in and followed them down into the sunken living room. It
looked disordered, but not as though somebody was packing. More like
somebody had only half straightened things after a wild party.
Kelley stayed standing, ready to brawl. Sheilah
crumpled into a chair. "Roy’s dead. What can you possibly want
with me now?"
I sat too, in order to appear less confrontational.
"Ms. Kelley, I know you’ve been through a lot, and I haven’t
made it any easier so far. But somebody mugged me, then used my gun
in the killings, and I intend to find out who."
"I don’t know anything about that."
"Maybe if——"
"Sheilah said she don’t know anything. My
daughter says that, it’s true."
"Maybe your daughter’s a little scared."
Sheilah tensed, then tried to feign with a head
shake. "I don’t have anything to be scared of."
"The room looks ransacked. Were you here when
they did it?"
"She already told you, she don’t know
anything. Why don’t you just—"
"Dad, please." Sheilah raked her hair with
her fingers. "Look, Mr .... "
“ Cuddy, John Cuddy."
"Mr. Cuddy, Roy was into some bad stuff, with
very bad people out of Boston."
"Sheil, for chrissake, you don’t have to be—"
"Dad, stop! Please?"
Kelley glowered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Like I was saying, Roy was in with people. But I wasn’t. I
never had any part of it, and I sure don’t want to be part of it
now."
"Like it or not, Ms. Kelley, you are part of it.
Or at least they think you are. Did they get what they came for?"
"How the hell would she know that?"
"Dad!" She turned back to me. "Mr.
Cuddy, I don’t know. I got here a few hours ago, and it was all
torn apart. I ran out right away and called my dad from a pay phone.
He drove down, and we came back in. I tried to pull
"What is it?"
"How’d you happen to know Roy Marsh?"
"Oh," she said,
thumb and index dipping toward the slice of lime in her drink and
voice supremely casual, "He was my insurance agent."
* * *
From Marblehead I drove south, angling toward the
Marsh house. I wanted to have a talk with Sheilah Kelley, and I
remembered Chris mentioning she was off on Tuesdays. There was a car
in the driveway, but it wasn’t her little brown Toyota. The
brightly polished red Buick was at least ten years old. I pulled to
the curb three houses down and walked back up, ringing the bell in
front this time.
A burly older man in a lumberjack’s shirt yanked
open the door. He had bushy eyebrows, a longish crew cut, and
unfashionable muttonchop sideburns. He gave me a disgusted look and
said, "We don’t want any," as he swung the door closed.
I put my foot at the jamb and used the palm of my
hand to cushion the door’s arcing momentum. My greeter balled his
right into a fist and was setting himself when I heard Nurse
Sheilah’s voice from inside call, "Who is it, Dad?"
He yelled to her but kept his attention on me. "Just
some salesman who’s gonna need new teeth."
I shifted my rear leg for balance and reached for my
identification, saying, "Your daughter knows me, Mr. Kelley. I’m
a private investigator."
Sheilah came up behind him. Her eyes were bleary, her
nose so red it looked windburned. She said, "What do you want
now?"
Kelley wedged himself between her and me.
“ You’re the guy the cops wanted. The one who
killed Marsh and the hooker."
"Mr. Kelley, I didn’t kill them. But I was
involved, and I want to know why. Now we can stand here like this
till the leaves turn, or we can talk quietly inside. Your choice."
Kelley wanted to tty a punch, but his daughter slid
her hand inside his free arm and then tightened her fingers over his
bicep. "Dad, it’d be easier if we just let him in for a
while."
"We got a lot of packing to do yet. I wanna be
clear of here before the traffic starts."
"C’mon."
"I don’t wanna be sitting on four ninety-five
all day."
"Dad, please."
Kelley let go of the door and shook his daughter off
as I came in and followed them down into the sunken living room. It
looked disordered, but not as though somebody was packing. More like
somebody had only half straightened things after a wild party.
Kelley stayed standing, ready to brawl. Sheilah
crumpled into a chair. "Roy’s dead. What can you possibly want
with me now?"
I sat too, in order to appear less confrontational.
"Ms. Kelley, I know you’ve been through a lot, and I haven’t
made it any easier so far. But somebody mugged me, then used my gun
in the killings, and I intend to find out who."
"I don’t know anything about that."
"Maybe if——"
"Sheilah said she don’t know anything. My
daughter says that, it’s true."
"Maybe your daughter’s a little scared."
Sheilah tensed, then tried to feign with a head
shake. "I don’t have anything to be scared of."
"The room looks ransacked. Were you here when
they did it?"
"She already told you, she don’t know
anything. Why don’t you just—"
"Dad, please." Sheilah raked her hair with
her fingers. "Look, Mr .... "
“ Cuddy, John Cuddy."
"Mr. Cuddy, Roy was into some bad stuff, with
very bad people out of Boston."
"Sheil, for chrissake, you don’t have to be—"
"Dad, stop! Please?"
Kelley glowered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Like I was saying, Roy was in with people. But I wasn’t. I
never had any part of it, and I sure don’t want to be part of it
now."
"Like it or not, Ms. Kelley, you are part of it.
Or at least they think you are. Did they get what they came for?"
"How the hell would she know that?"
"Dad!" She turned back to me. "Mr.
Cuddy, I don’t know. I got here a few hours ago, and it was all
torn apart. I ran out right away and called my dad from a pay phone.
He drove down, and we came back in. I tried to pull
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