Robert Parker - Split Image

Elsa Markham was slim and tall with silver-blond hair and a dark tan. Her husband was also slim and tall. But his hair was dark and worn longish. He, too, had a deep tan.

"Yes," Sunny said. "She's at the Renewal place."

"Does she have friends?"

"She has a boyfriend," Sunny said. "He seemed nice."

He hadn't seemed anything to Sunny, but she thought it might reassure them.

"Oh, God," Elsa said. "Unsupervised, of course."

"Well, actually," Sunny said, "there's quite a lot of supervision; at least there are quite a few rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking; interestingly enough, no meat."

"Sex?" Elsa said.

"No casual sex," Sunny said. "Only as part of a relationship."

"Well, isn't that sweet," Elsa said.

"They seem to be close," Sunny said.

"Sex is for marriage," Elsa said. "Not for relationships."

"Really?" Sunny said.

"You don't believe that?" Elsa said.

"No," Sunny said. "I guess I don't."

"Well, we do, and we won't have a daughter who believes otherwise."

"But maybe you do," Sunny said.

"She's been corrupted by this cult."

"It's not really a cult, Mrs. Markham. They don't advocate much that most people wouldn't approve of."

"We are not most people," Elsa said.

Sunny looked at Mr. Markham, who so far had sat in grim silence as his wife talked.

"So, is Cheryl your biological daughter, too, Mr. Markham?"

"Of course," he said. "What kind of a question is that?"

"I don't mean to pry," Sunny said. "Although prying is sort of my profession. But why is her name different than yours?"

"Our name was originally DeMarco," Elsa said. "We changed it as John began to make his way in business."

"Why?"

"DeMarco seemed so North End, you know?"

She wrinkled her nose.

"Johnny DeMarco," she said, and shook her head.

"And Cheryl kept her original name?" Sunny said.

"She took it back when she went off with those people," Elsa said. "Legally, she is Cheryl Markham."

Sunny nodded.

"So, I suggested that perhaps you might visit her," Sunny said. "Talk about this."

"What a dandy idea," Elsa said, and lapsed into a mimicky voice. " 'Would you and John care to join us on the Vineyard this weekend?' 'No, we're going to visit our daughter at her free-love hippie commune.' 'Oh, really? How nice. Our daughters are at Wellesley.' "

"Okay," Sunny said. "Not an idea that resonates."

"No," Elsa said. "It's not. Have you any others?"

Her husband had folded his arms and dropped his chin and looked even grimmer. He's learned every pose, Sunny thought.

"No," Sunny said. "Do you?"

"John?" Elsa said.

"I got an idea," John said. "You send me a bill for your time, and then go about your business."

"I don't wish to have an argument, but I would point out that you didn't hire me."

"Mistakes are inevitable," John said. "But smart people don't nurture them. Send me a bill and then leave us alone."

"And your daughter?" Sunny said.

"We will tend to our daughter."

He stood. Elsa stood. Sunny nodded and stood. No one offered to shake hands.

As she drove her car down the long driveway, she spoke to herself out loud.

"Wow!" she said.

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when Jesse went to Dix's office, but Dix looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. His bald head gleamed. His face seemed newly shaved. His seersucker jacket appeared freshly ironed. His white shirt was crisp. He wore a blue-and-yellow striped tie, perfectly knotted.

He nodded as Jesse sat down, and leaned back slightly in his chair as if settling in to listen with interest.

"I got drunk two nights ago and passed out and wasn't able to do my job the next day," Jesse said.

"That must be painful for you," Dix said.

"It is."

"Tell me about it," Dix said.

Jesse told him. Dix listened quietly.

"What do you suppose brought it on?" Dix said.

"All I can think of," Jesse said. "I was talking to a couple of mobsters who seem to be enjoying very happy marriages to some very appealing women."

"Hardly seems fair," Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

"And I guess I sat there, the other night," he said, "and thought, Why them, not me? And got drunk."

"Why couldn't Jenn have been like these women?" Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

"Exactly," he said.

Dix was quiet. Jesse was quiet.

"What are they like?" Dix said, after a time.

"The wives?"

Dix nodded.

"They're twins," Jesse said. "Identical twins."

Dix waited.

"They live side by side in big houses on Paradise Neck. Houses look alike, inside and outside. Like they were decorated, or whatever, by the same person."

"Pretty close," Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

Dix waited.

"They're very good-looking," Jesse said.

Dix nodded.

"And they love their husbands."

Dix waited. Jesse was quiet.

"How do you know?" Dix said.

"They are so attentive," Jesse said. "They sit beside their husband. They pat his arm. They look at him and listen to him and seem thrilled to be with him."

"Attentive," Dix said.

"Yes."

"Affectionate," Dix said.

"Yes."

"How about the husbands?" Dix said.

"Reggie Galen," Jesse said. "And Knocko Moynihan. Both mobsters. Reggie ran things mostly north, and Knocko had the South Shore."

"They still in the business?" Dix said.

"They say not, but I don't believe them."

"Why were you talking to them?"

"Guy worked for one of them, slugger named Petrov Ognowski, got killed and his body dumped on the Paradise Neck causeway."

"And you talked to the other man why?"

"He lived next door," Jesse said. "He had a record."

"Any reason to think they were involved?"

"No reason to think anything yet," Jesse said. "You used to be a cop. Guy gets killed in the neighborhood of two mobsters, you talk to them."

Dix nodded.

"These gentlemen seem to recognize their good fortune?" Dix said.

"In their wives, you mean?"

Dix nodded.

"They seem happy," Jesse said.

"Attentive?" Dix said.

Jesse shrugged.

"I guess so," he said.

"Affectionate," Dix said.

"I imagine," Jesse said.

"But it was the wives who really struck you," Dix said.

"Yes."

"Jenn ever attentive and affectionate?" Dix said.

"Before we were married," Jesse said. "And a little while after."

"So she was capable of it," Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

"What made it so frustrating," he said. "She could and she didn't."

"Yes," Dix said. "That would be frustrating."

"And she was probably that way with other men?"

"Affectionate and attentive?" Dix said.

"Yeah."

"And you know this how?" Dix said.

"Figures," Jesse said. "She wanted something."

"How about these wives?" Dix said.

"They seem genuine to me," Jesse said.

"Perhaps you want them to be genuine," Dix said.

"Why?" Jesse said. "Why would I care?"

Dix looked at his watch. It was his signal that the fifty minutes were up.

"Don't know," Dix said. "Think about it. We can talk some more on Thursday."

"These two frogs get to marry the princesses," Jesse said. "I get the whore."

"We'll talk Thursday," Dix said.

HER SISTER let them into Roberta Moynihan's house and got them seated in the living room. When Roberta came in they all stood.

"I'm very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Moynihan," Jesse said. "We all are."

"Robbie," she said. "Please call me Robbie."

Jesse nodded. Robbie's face was pale and tight. But her eyes were dry. She seemed in control of herself. Rebecca Galen stood to the side, near her sister.

Jesse said, "This is Captain Healy, Robbie, the homicide commander for the state police. And the gentleman with him is Sergeant Liquori, of the state organized-crime unit."