The Sweetest Summer(83)
Clancy wasn’t proud of the level of his frustration. It took everything he had not to stare at Evie like a starving man, and it was downright painful to not be able to talk to her freely. It wasn’t Christina’s fault, but the little girl’s presence complicated things, big-time.
Clancy saw his father waving.
“Oh thank God!” Frasier clomped down the steps of the cook-off stage and gestured for Clancy to meet him behind the Island Day command center, otherwise known as the family’s 1978 Winnebago trailer. He pointed to a covered lobster pot sitting on the grass. “Here it is. Exhibit A.”
Clancy was confused. “Uh, what am I supposed to do with a giant-assed tub of chili? Why don’t you just dispose of it?”
Frasier shook his head. “If I poured it down the sewer the whole island would be seeing tie-dyed dolphins.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Da.”
“I want arrests made. I need you to take this in for evidence.”
“Take it where?” Clancy chuckled. “You know I don’t work for NCIS, right? I don’t have some cute Goth chick in pigtails in the basement, fiddling with every technology known to forensic science. If I took this chili in as evidence, I’d have to ship it to the state police lab in Sudbury, and it could take months to get results back.”
“Are you sure?”
Clancy put his arm around his father’s shoulder and grinned. “Well, now, you might have a point. Seeing as how there’s no actual crime associated with this pot of allegedly tainted chili, it could take years.”
Frasier’s mouth fell open. “So . . . that’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?”
Clancy patted his dad’s back. “I’m afraid so.” Just then, he was struck with an idea. “Unless we can work out a deal.”
Frasier narrowed his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with your mother?”
“Uh, wow. No.” Clancy shook his head nice and slow. “I don’t want anywhere near that subject.”
Frasier glanced up to the heavens and said, “Thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the wee donkey.” Then he returned his attention to Clancy. “What do you propose?”
“I’ll take the hallucinogenic chili back to the station if you fill in for me the rest of the week at the dock.”
Frasier grimaced. “The rest of the week? Ah, son. That’s harsh.”
“Remember that year you made me clean bird shit from the mermaid scales?”
His father narrowed one eye.
“Payback is a bitch, Da.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Frasier held out his hand to shake on the deal. “Done. Thank you. We’re gonna throw the book at them.”
Clancy carried the heavy chili pot a full block before he reached the police Jeep. He tucked it between the passenger seat and the dash, moving the sun hat and baseball cap far away just in case there was any chili spillage. He wanted to be careful even though the hats weren’t anything fancy. He’d stopped by a couple vendor tents so he’d have something to give the girls. For Evie he got a generic straw hat with a wide brim and a flowery ribbon. It was a lot more girlie-girlie than the one she lost in the water, and much larger, and it would hide her face better. And for Christina—Chris—he found a kid-sized Red Sox cap, which he hoped would check the “unisex” box because he had to cut his Island Day shopping trip short.
A few minutes later, Clancy let himself in the back entrance of the police station and went immediately to the break room. He transferred a decent amount of the chili to a plastic container and poured the rest down the garbage disposal, public acid trips be damned. He placed the container into an evidence bag and scrawled on a Post-it Note, which he stuck to the bag. It read: “Do not eat. May be tainted. Sending to Sudbury for analysis.” He stuck the bag in the freezer.