Mark Mills - Amagansett

Christ, it was hot, the windless heat roasting him in his uniform.

‘Ambulance! Ambulance!’

The urgent call came from behind him and he spun round.

Abel triggered the shutter of the Speed Graphic. ‘That’s great,’ he said, appearing from behind the camera. ‘I can just see it on the front page of the Star : Deputy Chief Hollis, Moments Before His Sad Demise.’

‘Very funny.’

‘Jesus, Tom, you look like you just went twelve rounds with Rita Hayworth.’

Easy for him to say in his sleeveless open-necked shirt and his cotton slacks.

‘So, how’s it going?’ asked Abel.

‘How’s what going?’

‘The fair, Tom, the ladies’ fair.’

‘Great. Attendance is up this year.’

Abel looked at him askance. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’

‘I’m kidding.’

‘Christ, for a moment there I thought they had you in their clutches.’

‘No danger of that,’ said Hollis. ‘Where’s Lucy?’

‘Sulking. We had an argument. She thinks I’m seeing someone on the side.’

‘Are you?’

‘I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you if I was. But no, as it happens, I’m not.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘How’s the President?’

‘The President?’

‘Mrs Calder. You remember, the one who invited you to a party, the one you were spotted with in Springs the next day.’

‘We went walking,’ said Hollis. ‘She likes to walk.’

‘You’ve got to start somewhere, I guess.’

‘I guess.’

‘Why the hang-dog expression? No, don’t tell me—you fucked it up.’

‘I might have.’

‘You idiot, Tom.’

‘Coming from you?’

‘Well, go and sort it out. Tell her she’s invited to dinner over at my place later. You can come too…assuming you survive.’

‘What about Lucy?’

‘Don’t worry about her,’ said Abel, ‘she’ll be okay by then.’

Hollis waited till three o’clock before making his move. The fair was in full swing, the village green thronging with people clustered around the booths, the gypsy caravans, the wishing well and the wheel of chance, or waiting in line for boat rides on Town Pond. Mary’s little entourage had thinned out, and she was sipping a drink in the shade of a tree, the glass beaded with sweat.

‘Hi.’

‘Here—’ said Mary, handing him the glass.

He took a gulp of the cold lemonade.

‘Finish it,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Believe me, I’m sure.’

He drained the glass, dabbed at his face with his handkerchief and looked around. There were some children playing nearby, romping and running about.

‘Edward…?’

‘The big one with the stick chasing the small one without a stick.’

‘Seems like a nice kid.’

Mary laughed, and he felt his heart soar.

‘How have you been, Tom?’

‘Oh, you know…terrible.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Take a guess.’

‘Don’t blame me,’ she said, hardening.

‘I’m not. I let you down, I know that. And I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’

Her words sounded so final, but he wasn’t going to give up, not now. ‘There’s a lot I need to tell you.’

‘You mean your investigation.’

‘That came to nothing.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Other things,’ he said.

‘I’m not sure this is the time.’

She didn’t want to hear it, thought Hollis, not now, not ever. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell him straight.

‘Maybe later,’ she said.

Two simple words kicking down the door.

‘How about this evening?’ he suggested. ‘You’re invited to dinner at Abel’s place.’

‘This evening’s difficult. There’s all the clearing up.’

‘Delegate it. You’re the President.’

‘And there’s Edward.’

‘Get someone to look after him. I think it’s going to be a special occasion.’

‘A special occasion?’

‘It’s just a feeling.’

She thought on it. ‘Okay, I’ll ask my sister if she can have him for the night.’ She paused. ‘Don’t read too much into that; it’s easier if he sleeps over.’

‘I wasn’t reading anything into it,’ he lied.

The sister said yes. He even met her briefly, with her brood and her lanky husband who made no bones about eyeing him mistrustfully.

He stayed for Mary’s speech and clapped politely with everyone else when some prizes were handed out. As he headed home he stopped by Daker’s Wine & Liquor Store and asked for two bottles of Champagne to be put on ice.

Thirty-Seven

Manfred checked himself in the mirror, adjusted his bow tie and removed a fleck of lint from the shoulder of his tuxedo.

He was surprised that nothing in his appearance, his face, betrayed the turmoil inside.

He told himself it would be over soon, but the thought brought little satisfaction. He had been outmaneuvered by a fisherman. Labarde would still be at large and in possession of a considerable amount of money, destined to see out his days in comfort, at their expense. No, there was not a whole lot to be happy about.

The cash had arrived a few hours earlier, Manfred and Richard watching from the house as the black van pulled up by the garage. A dark little man pulled open the doors, the van disappeared inside and the doors were closed again. A few minutes later, the van was gone, taking the body with it. A leather case containing the money had been left beside the wheelbarrow.

With the exchange now sure to go ahead, they needed Gayle out of the way, and Manfred had spent more than an hour persuading her to brave the dinner with him at the Maidstone Club. At the appointed hour, he would slip away, join Richard back at the house, and they would go on together from there. Justin was under instructions to ensure Gayle stayed at the club.

That, at least, was the plan. Richard had assured him it would all be over by midnight. Only, it wouldn’t be. There would be no conclusion, simply an accommodation with a man who might haunt him for the rest of his life.

Manfred checked himself once more in the mirror then crossed to the Wellington chest. He opened the top drawer and stared at the handgun buried amongst his socks.

Thirty-Eight

Hollis arrived at Mary’s house to find that she was running a little late. She called to him from upstairs saying she’d be down in a minute. A few seconds later, Edward appeared at the top of the stairs. He slid down the banisters and landed beside Hollis.

‘Where’s your gun?’

‘My gun?’

‘Mom says you’re a cop.’

‘That’s right, but I don’t always carry my gun. I’m Tom, by the way.’

‘I’ve got a catapult.’

‘That’s great…Edward, right?’

‘My dad made it for me.’

The emphasis on the word ‘dad’ was clearly intentional.

Their relationship deteriorated rapidly from there. Hollis proved to be an embarrassingly bad shot with a catapult, a source of considerable amusement to Edward, whom he then made the mistake of calling ‘Eddy’. To cap it all, Hollis had to admit he’d never killed anyone, although he was beginning to believe he might have it in him.

He was rescued by Mary, beautiful and fragrant and carrying Edward’s overnight bag and a stuffed bear. ‘Hey, cute teddy,’ said Hollis, eliciting a satisfying scowl from Edward.

Abel and Lucy were waiting for them on the front porch. Lucy was beaming. Even from a distance, Hollis could see why.

‘Lou’s got some news,’ said Abel.

‘ We’ve got some news,’ said Lucy, shooting him a look then holding up her hand.

It was an emerald, fringed with diamonds.

‘Oh, Lucy…’ said Hollis, taking her in his arms.