Whiskey Beach(146)
“It’s a nice side benefit, but primarily, I was nosy. I had a coat not that different once. It felt good to give it to someone it suited more. Let’s go see Hester.”
Another familiar route, from one home to another. As the distance increased from the Back Bay, the tension in his shoulders eased. Automatically he stopped at the florist near his family home.
“I like to get her something.”
“The good grandson.” Pleased, she got out with him. “If I’d been thinking, we could’ve gotten something in Whiskey Beach. She’d have gotten a kick out of that.”
“Next time.”
Abra smiled as they went in. “Next time.”
Abra wandered, leaving the selection to him. She wanted to see what he’d choose, and how he’d go about it. She hoped he didn’t go for the roses, however beautiful. Too expected, too usual.
It pleased her when he went for the blue iris and mated them with some pink Asiatic lilies.
“That’s perfect. It says spring, and boldly. Very, very Hester.”
“I want her home before the end of summer.”
Abra leaned her head against his shoulder while the florist wrapped and rang. “So do I.”
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Landon.” The florist offered Eli a pen to sign the receipt. “Give our best to your family.”
“Thanks. I will.”
“Why do you look so surprised?” Abra asked as they started out.
“I got used to people I knew in my other life . . . we’ll say, either pretending not to know me or just walking away.”
She rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Not everyone’s an asshole,” she said.
And they walked out to where Wolfe stood by Eli’s car. For a moment, past and present overlapped.
“Nice flowers.”
“And legal,” Abra said cheerfully. “They have more nice ones inside if you’re in the mood.”
“You’ve got business in Boston?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Eli.
“As a matter of fact.” He started to step around Wolfe to open the car door for Abra.
“Why don’t you explain what business you had in Duncan’s office building, asking questions?”
“That’s legal, too.” Eli handed the flowers to Abra to free his hands.
“Some people can’t resist going back to the scene of the crime.”
“And some can’t resist beating a dead horse. Is there anything else, Detective?”
“Just that I’m going to keep on digging. The horse isn’t buried yet.”
“Oh, that’s just enough!” Incensed, Abra shoved the flowers back at Eli, then dug into her bag. “Here, take a look. This is the man who’s been breaking into Bluff House.”
“Abra—”
“No.” She rounded on Eli. “Enough. This is the man I saw in the bar that night, and the man who most likely grabbed me when I was in Bluff House. This is the man who almost certainly killed Duncan Kirby—someone you knew—and then planted the gun in my house before making that anonymous call to you. And if you’d stop being ridiculous you’d ask yourself why Justin Suskind bought a house in Whiskey Beach, why he hired Duncan, why he killed him. Maybe he didn’t kill Lindsay, but maybe he did. Maybe he knows something because he’s a criminal. So be a cop and do something about it.”
She grabbed the flowers back, wrenched open the door herself. “Enough,” she repeated, and slammed it shut.
“Your girlfriend’s got a temper.”
“You push buttons, Detective. I’m going to visit my grandmother, then I’m going back to Whiskey Beach. I’m going to live my life. You do whatever you have to do.”
He got in the car, yanked on his seat belt and drove away.
“I’m sorry.” Leaning her head back, Abra closed her eyes a moment, tried to find her center again. “I’m sorry, I probably made it worse.”
“No, you didn’t. You surprised him. And the sketch of Suskind surprised him. I don’t know what he’ll do about it, but you caught him off guard.”
“Small consolation. I don’t like him, and nothing he does or doesn’t do is going to change that. Now . . .” She let out a couple of long, deep breaths. “Clear the air, settle the mind. I don’t want Hester to see I’m upset.”
“I thought it was mad.”
“Not that different.”
“It is when you do it.”
She thought that over as he turned the last corner to the Beacon Hill house.
And this, she decided, was more Eli. Maybe because the house exuded, to her, the sense of history and generational family. She liked the feel of it, the lines, the landscape so long established, colored now with early spring bloomers.