The Coal Black Asphalt Tomb: A Berger and Mitry Mystery (Berger and Mitry Mysteries) by David Handler Page A

Luke back in those days,” Bob pointed out. “Still had two more years of law school to go at Yale because he’d taken time out to serve as a US Marine in Vietnam. Luke’s a decorated war hero, as you may know. But by the time he got home from there he was so fervently against the war that he became the leader of Yale’s antiwar movement. That’s how he ended up in politics.” Bob’s face tightened. “He and Lance didn’t agree about the war at all. They argued about it constantly.”
    “Did they argue about it the night of the spring dance?”
    Bob nodded. “Every time they saw each other. Political passions ran high in those days, Des. People were involved. They cared. These days they don’t care as much about anything, except possibly the outcome of American Idol . It’s kind of a shame, if you ask me.”
    “That was the night Luke met Noelle, wasn’t it, Bob?” Delia said.
    “Yes, I believe it was. Chase and Beryl arranged it. Beryl knew Noelle from Miss Porter’s and invited her to join us. Luke had been … on his own for a while,” he explained. Or, make that, didn’t explain. “Noelle Crawford. She was a tall, slim girl with black hair and pale skin. A striking girl. The two of them ended up getting married. They had a daughter together, Katie. But the marriage didn’t take. They split up after three years. Luke never did remarry.”
    “Noelle ended up with an orthopedic surgeon from Marblehead,” Delia said. “They were happy together. She’s gone now, too. A lot of old friends are.”
    “And how about Mr. Shaver? Was he part of your group that night?”
    “Buzzy and I have been pals our whole lives,” Bob replied, smiling faintly. “We were a couple of little stinkers together. Got into all kinds of trouble. But he didn’t mix with our group socially. Couldn’t. He had to look after his mom. She was very fragile emotionally.”
    “So your group that evening consisted of three couples plus Lance?”
    “That’s right.”
    “It was a lovely evening,” Delia recalled in a lilting voice. “Naturally, because of what happened, it’s not an evening that any of us can look back on fondly. But we had a lot of fun. We laughed. We drank. We danced out on the terrace. A warm breeze was blowing. The Flower Moon was nearly full.”
    “Lance was as high-spirited as I’d ever seen him,” Bob added wistfully. “He didn’t want his last night of freedom to end. Kept insisting we drink one more bottle of champagne, then another. It was way past midnight by the time we cleared out. Everyone else had gone home by then, including the club’s staff. And Lance still wasn’t ready to call it a night. Decided he just had to take the Monster out for a moonlight sail. One last sail before he returned to active duty. He was … what was that word he used, Delia? Stoked . He was stoked to take her out. He asked us to join him. She held four people comfortably. But no one else was in the mood.”
    “Not even you?”
    “If you knew me better, Des, you’d know that I get seasick in a bathtub. I never go sailing or fishing with anyone.”
    “The rest of us simply wanted to go home to bed,” Delia said.
    “So he took her out by himself. And we never saw him again.”
    “Were you the last people to see him alive?”
    “Yes, we believe so. There was no one at the yacht club at that hour.”
    “And was it you who reported him missing?”
    Bob nodded. “He didn’t come back. Didn’t report for duty in the morning when he was supposed to. I was shocked. But I figured, okay, maybe he fell asleep out there. He did have a lot to drink. Once he’s slept it off he’ll be back. This is Lance we’re talking about. Lance knows what he’s doing. I kept checking at the yacht club all day long to see if the Monster was back in her slip. His Mustang was in the parking lot. Unlocked, keys in the ignition. It was a white GT. Had the biggest engine they made in those days. Lance loved that car. Loved speed.