Dave Friar - Bonnie

"You'd be grumpy, too, if you were a professional writer and just got beat four-straight at Scrabble," Penny chimed in. "By a kid." She was sitting in the bay window, finishing Gravity's Rainbow. "His spelling is dreadful."

"Didn't anyone have the decency to warn you about her?" Bonnie asked.

"Mom tried to, but would he believe her? Nooooooo." Penny still hadn't looked up from the book, but she was grinning fiendishly. Little monster.

"Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They're out by the pool," I explained. "You guys game for some great seafood for dinner?" They were, and their enthusiasm grew as I explained about the fresh-catch restaurant over by the Bay. "My treat."

"Where's Dolores?" Bonnie asked.

Penny made a rude noise.

"She's with some new friends," I explained.

Bonnie's eyebrows went up.

We left the house around five-thirty, me and three lovely females. With Dolores's prolonged absence, Kate and Mark had decided to skip the dinner and wait for her. Dolores was going to get a lecture about responsible behavior that night – namely, the responsibility of letting her folks know where she was going to be.

Not that Kate or Mark would miss the added time alone.

The dinner was delightful. We sat on the open deck, looking west over an inlet as the sun set. The food was perfectly prepared, the view was spectacular, the conversation was lively. Irene and Bonnie knew Penny well enough to know they didn't have to pretend a kid was present, so we talked about anything and everything: politics, the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, movies, books, travel… everything but sex.

Irene's travels had burnished her with a sophisticated appreciation for the ambience and food. Bonnie was, by nature, a sponge, soaking up every smallest aspect of the experience. Penny was just awash in pleasure at being treated like the grownup she was (between her ears).

Even folks who only had a nodding acquaintance with me made an excuse to come over and exchange pleasantries. I wasn't delighted at the interruptions, but I certainly understood. Bonnie was wearing a simple black dress that came to mid-calf. It was sleeveless and loose. And it was slit up the side almost to her hip and the overlapping lapels were trusted to benign winds and her conscientious posture. Every time she leaned too far or a breeze came up, and unwonted amount of taut, abundant 19-year-old Bonita was on display. With her dark, flashing eyes and abundant hair blowing loose in the wind, she was an instant turn-on for anyone who glanced her way.

Irene's white cotton blouse and sensible white skirt, with a bright green oversized scarf as a waist wrap, were the perfect reproof – because all were lightweight and became translucent as the sun settled lower. In essence, she was using a star – the Sun – as an accessory to highlight her perfect body. Every time she turned sideways to look out at a flight of geese or an incoming boat or a distant jetliner soaring high up over the thin cirrus, I could see her wonderful breasts in perfect, silhouetted profile through that blouse. It took great selfcontrol not to leap at her over the table.

And those were the times when Penny would give me the business. Sitting there in her demure-but-neat red-and-white striped blouse and her fashionably loose blue shorts, Penny would see my eyes fix on Irene's loveliness (and, maybe, my tongue hanging out). And as soon as she knew I'd seen her watching me, she do something cute – like lick the straw in her Coca-Cola, or slide her hand suggestively up and down on her glass, all the time giving me an oh-so-coy look up from under her eyelashes.

Yeah, I could understand the guys suddenly remembering me and coming over for introductions. Even the ones whose names I couldn't remember (if I'd ever known them).

And, too, matters were not helped by the little footsie touches from Bonnie and Irene and sometimes both. I could only imagine what they were doing with each other – but I didn't dare dwell on that or I'd never be able to stand and leave the table.

By the time the sun had been set for an hour or so and our deserts (not nearly as good as the rest of the meal) were finished, Irene and Bonnie were just a wee bit tipsy. It never occurred to any of the staff to ask for Bonnie's age (two years under the minimum in New York State). She and Irene had been happily indulging themselves in white wine and were noticeably tipsy, though not sloppy. Penny and I were, of course, stone-cold sober. As the driver, I'd allowed myself only the one glass of (mediocre) chablis with dinner, followed by Saratoga water and then, coffee.

Penny was starting to get restless; so was I. Bonnie and Irene were trying to outdo each other with double-entendres. I put up with it and waited for my credit card and receipts to return, resigned to listening to the increasing silliness – until Penny suddenly signed in with: "You two should knock it off. We have a very big Dutch boy here who might want to plug a couple of leaks."

When that registered on the second level, they quieted and I stared. I guess none of us had ever guessed that Penny even suspected they were lovers.

I remembered that shadow in the tree and wondered…

It took about a half hour to get back to the house. We pulled into the driveway about ten. I offered my sturdy, manly arm to our tipsy twosome, but they insisted they would be along "presently," in Bonnie's words.

"Come on, uncle Dan. Don't you know when your presence is not desired?" Penny grabbed my hand and tugged me through the darkness toward the house. I looked back over my shoulder and saw just the silhouette of Bonnie and Irene in a heated clinch.

Broing!

But that changed as soon as Penny and I entered the house. Mark and Kate were sitting the living room. I could smell the booze from Mark halfway across the room; I didn't need to see the stuporous look on his face.

Kate looked worried. She stood and came to me.

"Dolores isn't back. She hasn't called."

I put my hands on her shoulders. "She's wild but not stupid. We'll find her."

"But – "

I turned to Penny, who was measuring water into the coffee-maker. "We need you."

Her face changed, suddenly all serious and determined. She was still a kid, but now she was a scary-smart kid with a purpose.

"What do you need?"

"The guys on the beach. Remember anything about them?"

Her face got distant.

"Did you see – " Kate began. I silenced her with a scowl. Penny's brain and eyes were a resource, not to be polluted with distractions.

"Five guys, one girl. About…eighteen or nineteen years old. One of them went up to the road to get some beer."

"A car?"

She nodded. "Don't know what kind, but it was a late-model car, one of those compact ones, like an Accura or something."

"So they weren't just out for the day." I nodded. "Too many people for a small car on a day trip."

Penny snapped her fingers and got excited. "One of them said something about going back to the house for some more food and beer."

"How were their tans? Real deep and even and leathery?"

She shook her head. "Two of them had to put their on shirts because they were getting sunburned." She looked at me hopefully. "Do you know who they are?"

I shook my head. "But now I know they're a bunch of college kids who rented a place here for a few days or a couple of weeks." I went to the phone and called Hector, the gardener.

"I was just getting ready for bed. Is everything okay?"

"Pretty much."

"Did Miguel do a good job? He was a little disappointed – "

"I knew he would do a good job, even before I returned. His disappointment is why I am calling." I quickly told him about Dolores's absence and relayed my deduction about the young men.