J is for Judgment (Kinsey Millhone 10)

“Hey, Jerry? How’re you? Kinsey Millhone here.”

He leaned forward, gasping, hands on his skinny knees while he caught his breath. A whiff of sweat wafted through the window. “Fine.” Huff, puff. “Just a minute here.” He was never going to look like an athlete doing this. He seemed like a man on the brink of a near death experience. He put his hands on his waist and leaned back, saying, “Whooo!” He was still breathing hard, but he managed to collect himself. He peered in at me, face wrinkling with the effort. His glasses were beginning to fog up. “I was going to call you. Thought I saw Wendell hanging around earlier.”

“Really,” I said. “Why don’t you hop in?” I leaned over and popped up the lock, and he opened the car door, sliding onto the seat.

“‘Course I can’t be sure, but it sure looked like him, so I called the cops. Deputy’s over there now. Did you see that?”

I checked Dana’s porch, which was still deserted. “So I see. You heard about Brian?”

“Kid must lead a charmed life,” Jerry remarked. “You think he’s headed for home?”

“Hard to say. It’d be foolish …that’s the first place the cops are going to check,” I said. “But he may not have any other choice in the matter.”

“I can’t believe his mother would tolerate that.”

We both peered at Dana’s, hoping for activity. Guns going off, vases flying through the window. There was nothing. Dead silence, the facade of the dark gray house looking cold and blank. “I drove down to see her, but I thought I better wait until the deputy leaves. When did you see Wendell? Was it just recently?”

“Might have been an hour ago. Lena was the one who spotted him. She called me in quick and had me take a look. We couldn’t quite agree if it was him or not, but I thought it was worthwhile to report. I didn’t really think they’d send somebody out.”

“They might have dispatched a deputy after Brian came up missing. I didn’t hear the newscast myself. Did you happen to catch it?”

Jerry shook his head, pausing to wipe his sweaty forehead on his T-shirt. The car was beginning to smell like a locker room. “Might be why Wendell came back,” he said.

“That occurred to me, too.”

Jerry gave a little sniff to his armpit and had the decency to wince. “I better head for the shower before I stink up your car. You let me know if they catch him.”

“Sure. I’ll probably cruise by Michael’s house just to make the rounds. I’m assuming the cops will advise him about aiding and abetting.”

“For all the good it’ll do.”

I left the car windows down after Jerry got out. Another ten minutes passed and the sheriff’s deputy emerged from Dana’s. She followed him out, and the two of them stood on the front porch, conversing. The deputy was staring out at the street. Even at a distance, his expression seemed stony. Dana looked trim and long-legged in a short denim skirt, a navy T-shirt, and flats, her hair pulled back with a bright red scarf. The deputy’s stance suggested the effect wasn’t lost on him. They seemed to be winding up their conversation, body language cautious and just a shade antagonistic. Her telephone must have rung because I saw her give a quick look in that direction. He gave her a nod and moved down the steps while she banged through the screen door and into the house.

As soon as he’d pulled away from the curb, I got out of my car and crossed the street to Dana’s. She’d left the front door open, the screen on the latch. I knocked on the door frame, but she didn’t seem to hear me. I could see her pacing, head tilted, handset anchored in the crook of her neck. She paused to light a cigarette, drawing deeply. “You can have her take the pictures if you want,” she was saying, “but a professional is going to do a better job—” She was interrupted by the party on the other end, and I could see a frown of annoyance form. She removed a fleck of tobacco from her tongue. Her other line began to ring. “Well now, that’s true, and I know it seems like a lot of money. About that, yes….”

Her other line rang again.

“Debbie, I understand what you’re saying. …I understand that and I empathize, but it’s the wrong place to pinch pennies. Talk to Bob and see what he says. I’ve got another call coming in…. All right. Bye-bye. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

She pressed the button for the other line. “Boutique Bride,” she said. Even through the screen door, I could see her manner shift. “Oh, hello,” She turned her back to the door, voice dropping into a range I couldn’t readily overhear. She set her half-smoked cigarette on the lip of an ashtray and checked her reflection in a wall-hung mirror near the desk. She smoothed her hair back and corrected a little smudge of eye makeup. “Don’t do that,” she said. “I really don’t want you to do that”