and sat down, my back to the house so I could watch it all.
Unc and Stanhope kept on over who was where when, never a word out of either about any night-vision goggles anybody’d seen, nor about this body. Eventually Unc strode on across the plank without so much as a wobble, came in close to Stanhope, the bills of their caps almost touching while they still yelled, and I knew Stanhope had no idea Unc was blind for how the two kept right on. Still nothing came out of the black sailor with Stanhope, the M4 down, trigger hand flat against the stock, his head turning now and again to scan the grounds.
Once in a while he looked at me, held his eyes on me long enough to let me know he was watching.
Mrs. Q came around again, and once she’d made clear to the Cuthberts she wasn’t going home, they ushered her over to the table, sat her in one of the chairs. Priscilla in her jogging suit and snarled hair hovered around her as though she might take the old lady’s pulseany second to see if she was still alive, while Mrs. Q sat stone still, hands locked in her lap, eyes out to the creek and the logjam of a jon boat and a Boston Whaler.
“The idea,” the old bag whispered right there next to me, unable even to look at me for how close I was and the mange she must’ve figured she’d get if she were even to glimpse my way. “The idea,” she whispered, “the idea.”
Grange Cuthbert took a seat across from me at the table, flipped the chair around so his back was to me, him just watching and shaking his head now and again. “A body,” he said once. “What in the hell is a body doing out here?”
It was then Jessup stepped into my line of sight on my right, his back to me too as he made his way across the patio and the ten yards or so down the lawn to Stanhope and Unc and the other sailor.
I’d forgotten about him for the big stinky pile of all this going down out here, forgotten for these few minutes about him going into Judge Dupont’s house to get that screaming nurse to quiet down, and I glanced behind me to the French doors to see if she was back out here, maybe cooled enough now to watch.
But just as I turned, I saw over my shoulder the door close from inside, heard the slide of a dead bolt into place.
Didn’t matter if she thought she could lock herself away from a dead body, I thought, and turned back to face the melee. The authorities’d get hold of her soon enough. She’d end up questioned, just like the rest of us.
Jessup stopped next to the sailor with the M4. They looked at each other, nodded. Jessup put his hands on his hips, then crossed his arms, like he was waiting his turn. The sailor didn’t say anything to him, didn’t ask for his name or what he wanted. He only gave him that nod, then went back to scanning, hand still flat on the stock of his gun.
And though he had to be able to see Jessup maybe a couple feet away from him, Stanhope, still toe to toe with Unc, didn’t move hiseyes from Unc for a second. It was like Jessup wasn’t even there, this man dressed in a black windbreaker and cap and pants who’d come from inside the house everything was all happening at.
Maybe they knew him, I thought. Or maybe they’d spotted him for being security: he still had his two-way in one hand.
And beyond them, still a silhouette for the searchlight, was Tyler, tending to the only thing really mattered out here: the body. He was kneeling way up on the hull and leaning over the edge, a big Maglite LED in his hand and pointed down to the water, its beam sharp as a Star Wars lightsaber. Slowly he moved it back and forth, looking at the woman. Now and again he put his radio up to his mouth, said something I couldn’t hear.
Then here was the Hanahan police, two dudes who looked no older than me coming like the rest of the world around the side of the house and into the light from that flood on Tyler’s boat. They had on their black wool sweaters, badges on their chests, hands on their holsters, and
Unc and Stanhope kept on over who was where when, never a word out of either about any night-vision goggles anybody’d seen, nor about this body. Eventually Unc strode on across the plank without so much as a wobble, came in close to Stanhope, the bills of their caps almost touching while they still yelled, and I knew Stanhope had no idea Unc was blind for how the two kept right on. Still nothing came out of the black sailor with Stanhope, the M4 down, trigger hand flat against the stock, his head turning now and again to scan the grounds.
Once in a while he looked at me, held his eyes on me long enough to let me know he was watching.
Mrs. Q came around again, and once she’d made clear to the Cuthberts she wasn’t going home, they ushered her over to the table, sat her in one of the chairs. Priscilla in her jogging suit and snarled hair hovered around her as though she might take the old lady’s pulseany second to see if she was still alive, while Mrs. Q sat stone still, hands locked in her lap, eyes out to the creek and the logjam of a jon boat and a Boston Whaler.
“The idea,” the old bag whispered right there next to me, unable even to look at me for how close I was and the mange she must’ve figured she’d get if she were even to glimpse my way. “The idea,” she whispered, “the idea.”
Grange Cuthbert took a seat across from me at the table, flipped the chair around so his back was to me, him just watching and shaking his head now and again. “A body,” he said once. “What in the hell is a body doing out here?”
It was then Jessup stepped into my line of sight on my right, his back to me too as he made his way across the patio and the ten yards or so down the lawn to Stanhope and Unc and the other sailor.
I’d forgotten about him for the big stinky pile of all this going down out here, forgotten for these few minutes about him going into Judge Dupont’s house to get that screaming nurse to quiet down, and I glanced behind me to the French doors to see if she was back out here, maybe cooled enough now to watch.
But just as I turned, I saw over my shoulder the door close from inside, heard the slide of a dead bolt into place.
Didn’t matter if she thought she could lock herself away from a dead body, I thought, and turned back to face the melee. The authorities’d get hold of her soon enough. She’d end up questioned, just like the rest of us.
Jessup stopped next to the sailor with the M4. They looked at each other, nodded. Jessup put his hands on his hips, then crossed his arms, like he was waiting his turn. The sailor didn’t say anything to him, didn’t ask for his name or what he wanted. He only gave him that nod, then went back to scanning, hand still flat on the stock of his gun.
And though he had to be able to see Jessup maybe a couple feet away from him, Stanhope, still toe to toe with Unc, didn’t move hiseyes from Unc for a second. It was like Jessup wasn’t even there, this man dressed in a black windbreaker and cap and pants who’d come from inside the house everything was all happening at.
Maybe they knew him, I thought. Or maybe they’d spotted him for being security: he still had his two-way in one hand.
And beyond them, still a silhouette for the searchlight, was Tyler, tending to the only thing really mattered out here: the body. He was kneeling way up on the hull and leaning over the edge, a big Maglite LED in his hand and pointed down to the water, its beam sharp as a Star Wars lightsaber. Slowly he moved it back and forth, looking at the woman. Now and again he put his radio up to his mouth, said something I couldn’t hear.
Then here was the Hanahan police, two dudes who looked no older than me coming like the rest of the world around the side of the house and into the light from that flood on Tyler’s boat. They had on their black wool sweaters, badges on their chests, hands on their holsters, and
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