As he listened to the phone ring, he had the thought that he had become too used to phones going unanswered. Busy… she was always so damned busy now.
She had gone back to Michigan almost a year ago, and spring was spent in a frenzy of campaigning for the sheriff’s position in Leelanau. Their plan to meet in late summer had been postponed as the election neared. She won the election easily, campaigning on an ethics and crime-prevention platform. Because he hadn’t heard much from her since Thanksgiving, he could only assume things were hectic. But a part of him always wondered what the hell the sheriff had to do in a quiet resort town like Echo Bay.
Finally, a woman answered the phone. He knew most of the dispatchers up there, but he didn’t recognize this voice.
“Is Joe Frye there?”
“Sheriff Frye? Ah… yes, I think she’s still here. Who’s calling, please?”
“Louis Kincaid.”
“What is this regarding, Mr. Kinsey?”
“Kincaid. I’m a friend. Just tell her it’s Louis.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kinsey. Please hold.”
The woman set the phone down with a clunk. Normally, there was nothing in the background but soft voices and an occasional crackle of a radio, but tonight the line was filled with laughter, tinkling glasses, and Christmas carols.
A party. The department was having its annual Christmas party.
“This is Sheriff Frye.”
“Hey, Joe, it’s me.”
She was almost shouting. “I’m sorry. Who?”
“It’s Louis.”
“Oh. I can barely hear you. How are you?”
There was a sudden burst of nearby laughter, and he waited until it faded before he answered.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Say, listen, I was wondering…”
“Oh, Louis, hold on,” Joe said. Her voice grew muffled, as if she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. “Enough with the mistletoe, Mike. Go pester your wife.”
He waited for her to come back on the line. When she did, it was a shade quieter. She must have found an empty office.
“So, did you decide if you’re coming up for Christmas?” she asked. “We’re supposed to get ten inches. Should be beautiful.”
“I’m on a case.”
“Oh,” Joe said. There was a long-disinterested-pause. “What kind?”
“Cleaning up rich people’s messes. I’m in Palm Beach.”
“Well, at least they’ll pay well this time,” she said.
“I’m not so sure this joker will.”
Another pause. “Why take the case, then, if you dislike the client so much?”
It’s not like you’re driving a squad car that says to protect and serve.
“Mel asked me to,” he said.
“Mel… how is he? I’ve been thinking about him lately.”
“It would be nice if you bothered to ask me how I am,” Louis said.
What a lousy thing to say. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I don’t have to ask how you are,” Joe said. “I can tell by your voice. And I think we already talked about this at Thanksgiving, Louis.”
He was quiet. The background noise was picking up again, and he heard someone launch into a drunken version of “Oh Christmas Tree.”
“What do you want from me, Joe?”
There was a long pause before she spoke. “I want you to want something from yourself,” she said. “And while you work out exactly what that is, maybe we should… maybe I should give you some space.”
They were already fifteen hundred miles apart. How much more space did she think he needed? Still, even as he thought it, he realized he had known something like this was coming. Drifting… they were drifting. He was drifting.
“So, we’re just ending it?” he asked.
Joe sighed. “Louis, this isn’t a good time to talk about this.”
“You’re the one who brought it up, Joe.”
There was a long pause. “I think we need to take a break,” she said finally. “I think we need to find out exactly how we feel about… everything.”
“Does that include other people?” he asked.
Again, quiet on her end. He leaned his forehead against the phone, closing his eyes.
“Okay, then,” Louis said. “Have a merry Christmas.”
“Louis, wait-”
He hung up and walked away from the phone. He went almost two blocks before he paused at the corner of South County Road. The sound of a woman laughing drifted out to him on the warm night. He headed toward the laughter.
Ta-boo was still open. Through the open window, he could see the crowd, two deep at the bar, loud and garrulous.
He squeezed in through the doorway and made his way to the far end near the waitress station. Yuba, the pretty Indian woman, was hard at work but gave him a smile as she strained a martini into a glass.
“Heineken, right?” she asked.
“You’re good,” Louis said.
Another smile, and she was gone, sweeping to the other end of the bar to deposit two drinks and returning a moment later with his beer and a frosted glass.
“Should I start a tab?” she asked.
Louis hesitated. “Sure.”
A combo started up somewhere in the back of the restaurant. Through the latticework, Louis could see a couple drift out to the dance floor. The man was a slender white-haired gent in the requisite blue blazer setting off yellow slacks; the woman was tan, blond, and at least twenty years his junior. She wore a tight, low-cut pink dress, and Louis couldn’t take his eyes off her huge breasts even though he was sure they weren’t real.
Yuba returned and set a glass votive before him. She smiled when she saw him watching the blonde but said nothing. She pulled a purple Bic from her vest pocket. Her black eyes danced with the flare of the candle.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked.
His mind was still on Joe, and for a second, he thought Yuba meant her.
“The tall fellow with the yellow glasses,” she said.
“Asleep,” Louis said. “Thanks for the tip about the hotel.”
“You guys didn’t seem like the Brazilian Court types,” she said.
He had the feeling she knew exactly who he and Mel were and why they were on the island. He wondered if she lived here, but he had a feeling that, just like the gardeners and the maids he saw standing at the bus stop, she traveled back across the bridge at night.
“You’re here to help Reggie, aren’t you?” Yuba said.
“Yes,” Louis said.
She grabbed a towel and ran it across the already spotless bar. She was looking for an excuse to linger, Louis realized, but was this about Reggie-or him?
Yuba nodded at his glass. “You want another one?” she asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
After she had brought the refill and made the rounds of the other customers, Yuba drifted back.
Joe was still there, cluttering his thoughts. He knew beer alone wasn’t going to make her go away long enough for him to sleep tonight. He suddenly wanted a reason to keep Yuba in front of him, wanted the distraction of her lovely face, if only for the next hour.
“I’m glad you’re helping Reggie,” Yuba said, lowering her voice. “Reggie’s a good guy. He’s real. That’s not easy to find in this town.”
“I’m beginning to understand that. How well do you know him?”
She shrugged. “He comes in here almost every night. I’ve been here two years. We’re not friends or anything, but in this business, you get a pretty good feel for people.”
Louis looked at her skeptically over the rim of the glass.
“I went to a party at his place once,” she said. “He has a nice house up on the north end.” When Louis didn’t respond, she added, “That’s where the real people live.”
“Ah,” Louis said.
Someone called to her. Yuba waved to the customer to wait. “Reggie wouldn’t hurt a fly,” she said.
“You sure about that?” Louis asked.
She gave him a hard stare, then left to serve the guy at the other end of the bar.
The second beer went down more quickly than the first, and he suddenly wanted a third badly. But the bar was now three-deep, and he couldn’t get Yuba’s attention. He kept his eyes trained on her back, willing her to turn. No dice. That’s when he felt the weight of someone’s gaze and turned.