"No," I said. "You couldn't."
"There's your difference," Susan said.
"I'm okay because you love me?" I said.
"No. I love you because you're okay."
Again we shared a silence.
Then I said, "Thank you, Doctor."
"Take some Scotch," Susan said. "Call me in the morning."
57
If we can get her alone," I said to Hawk, "I can get her to talk."
"Don't you know enough?"
"No. I need to know who killed Emily Gordon."
"You think you might be getting obsessive about this?" Hawk said.
"Susan says it's because I am my own grail."
"That's probably it," Hawk said. "But you already know more than the client wants to find out."
"I want to know," I said.
"Oh," Hawk said. "Long as you has a reasonable explanation."
We were drinking coffee in Hawk's car again in the parking lot at the end of the causeway in Paradise. It was a perfectly swell morning. The temperature was 78, the sun was out, the breeze was gentle. Behind us, the Atlantic Ocean was endlessly rocking. It was cool enough to reduce the number of exotic bathing suits. But in a fallen world, even perfection is flawed.
"What are we looking for," Hawk said, as a little silver Mercedes, the kind with the retractable hard top, drove past us toward the Neck.
"Whatever we can see," I said. "We're really here to think up a way to get Bonnie Karnofsky alone."
"Now that you've shot up everyone but Bunny," Hawk said. "So they won't be expecting anything."
"I haven't shot anybody named Karnofsky," I said.
"Yet," Hawk said. "You figure she's with Dad and Mom."
"Almost certainly," I said. "There's no sign of life at the house in Lynnfield. Whatever Sonny's protecting her from, he's running out of room. I'll bet my reputation that he's brought her home."
"You got no reputation," Hawk said.
"Okay, so it's not a risky bet."
"And don't we know what he's protecting her from?"
"Maybe," I said. "Maybe the murder. Or maybe he doesn't want anyone to know she's guilty of miscegenation."
"Like the founding fathers," Hawk said.
"But not the founding mothers."
"You don't know that," Hawk said.
"You mean there might have been a Solly Hemings?"
Hawk grinned. "Probably my ancestor," he said.
I drank some more coffee. Nothing wrong with several cups of coffee. Stimulates the brain. If I drank enough of it, my brain got so stimulated that I couldn't sleep. But trying to think through a difficult problem. I'd be a fool not to use it.
"So how do we get to her?" I said.
"I dress up like Solly Hemings and walk back and forth past the house until she sees me, and, overwhelmed by desire, she dash out and we grab her."
I put my head back against the headrest. "We better think of a backup plan," I said. "In case that doesn't work."
"Sho 'nuff," Hawk said.
We finished our coffee. I got out and went to the snack bar and got us two more cups.
"We can go in and get her," Hawk said. "Or we can lure her out."
"Place is like a Norman keep," I said. "We go in, and a lot of people will get hurt."
"And we likely to be two of them," Hawk said.
"So how do we lure her out? Aside from the Solly Hemings ploy."
We thought about that for awhile. In front of the car, a squabble of gulls fought loudly over half an orange.
"We got her daughter," Hawk said.
"Even if she cares about her daughter, I can't do that."
"Use the daughter to trap the mother?"
"That's right."
"Man, you're confusing," Hawk said. "And not amusing. Couple days ago, you shot three guys. Now you won't use the daughter against the mother."
"I confuse myself sometimes," I said.
We drank coffee. The gulls squawked at one another. A Ford pickup went past us, toward town, towing a large sailboat.
"We gotta go in," I said.
Hawk took in a long breath and let it out slowly and didn't say anything.
"You know we do," I said.
"Uh-huh."
Two teenage girls in designer shades and miniscule bathing suits went past us, carrying beach bags and a blanket and a portable radio.
"Too young," I said.
Hawk nodded sadly. "I know," he said.
Our coffee was gone. Hawk went and got some. Keep drinking it. It was bound to work.
"The house backs up on the water," I said.
Hawk looked at me. His face brightened. "Think it got a private beach?" he said.
"If you had all that dough and owned that property, would it have a private beach?"
"It would."
"And if you were Bonnie Karnofsky Czernak and you were shut up in there with Mom and Dad, what would you decide, sooner or later, to do?"
"After I watched The View?"
"After that," I said.
"Might take my blanket and my radio and go down to the sea."
"Me too," I said.
"We need a boat," Hawk said.
"We need a lot of things," I said. "But at least we have an idea."
"Don't happen often," Hawk said.
"No," I said. "I'm surprised I recognized it when it came."
58
Hawk and I were with Jesse Stone in the town launch, which was throttled back and wallowing a little, one hundred yards off shore on the ocean side of Paradise Neck. The boat was being steered by the harbormaster, a heavy man named Phil who wore blue jeans and suspenders.
"That's Karnofsky's beach," Stone said. He had on his chief shirt with his badge on it, jeans, a baseball cap, and sneakers. He carried a Smith & Wesson.38 with a short barrel, just like mine. The perfect choice. Hawk, ever self-amusing, wore a blue blazer and white pants, and one of those boating caps with the long bill, like Hemingway.
"Can we assume they've spotted us?" I said.
"Sure. But it doesn't matter. They're used to us coming by."
"That little gully runs straight up between the rocks to the top of the hill behind Sonny's house," Stone said. "Got aerial photos, you want them."
"I do."
Stone nodded.
"On the other side of the rocks, maybe two, three hundred feet," he said, "is neighboring property."
"How about the other side?"
"Further," Stone said. "Other side of that point. There's a right of way down to the water."
The harbormaster kept the nose of the boat into the waves, idling just enough to hold our position.
"They use the beach much," I said.
"Sonny, never. The old lady, some." I scanned the rocks and trees around the beach.
There was a raft with a springboard anchored fifty feet from shore.
"Their raft?" I said.
Stone nodded.
"They use it?"
"Daughter comes to visit sometimes. She and her husband use it."
"How deep is it by the raft?"
"Phil?" Stone said to the harbormaster.
"Twenty feet," Phil said. "Drops off pretty sharp from the beach."
We were quiet, while far out into the Atlantic beyond us some sailboats were swooping about, and a couple of fishing boats plodded into the wind. On shore, nothing moved except a couple small seabirds with long beaks, which poked around in the rocks without any visible result. I knew how they felt.
"How often do they use the raft," I said.
"We don't check it every day," Stone said. "But when the weather's good, she's down here. She bakes for awhile and then goes in and swims to the raft. I assume it's to cool off. Hubby goes sometimes. Sometimes doesn't."
"I don't suppose we can use your boat," I said.
"It's the town's."
"I still assume we can't use it."
"You can't."
"You don't talk much," I said. "Do you."
"It's an experiment," Stone said. "If I got nothing to say, I try not to say it."
"Maybe I'll try it sometime," I said.
"You got a plan?" Stone said.
"We off the record here?" I said.
"I look like a fucking TV crew?" Stone said.
"I'm planning to snatch Bonnie Czernak, nee Karnofsky," I said.