The only time Carson has been to the Bridgeman home was for Willa’s bridal shower, which was one of the most unbearable afternoons of Carson’s life. She remembers the squealing over monogrammed towels, the ribbons and bows taped to a paper plate that Willa was supposed to wear as a hat. Carson had slipped out to the driveway to get high—there was simply no other way to tolerate it—and when she came back inside with bleary red eyes and wolfed down half a platter of tea sandwiches that Tink Bonham had had shipped in from Le Petit Chef in Philadelphia, her mother approached her, frowning, and said, “You could have at least invited me to go with you.”
The Rover seems to idle right in front of Carson’s Jeep for long minutes. What is Pamela doing? Carson holds her breath, waiting for Pamela to knock on the window. It’s like a horror film, and Pamela is the hatchet that will hack Carson’s emotional life to bloody pieces.
The knock doesn’t come and Carson can see the lights swing around into the Bridgemans’ driveway. Carson lets her breath go a little at a time, and when she hears the car door slam, she pops her head up just enough to watch Pamela stumble across her front yard and into the house.
Carson counts to fifty, watching the house for lights. No lights. Carson imagines Pamela stumbling up to bed in the dark or, better still, passing out facedown on the kitchen floor.
She turns the key in the ignition and gets the hell out of there.
The Chief
“Is this room always open?” The Chief is talking to the general manager of the Stop and Shop, a guy named Dick, from Taunton. Dick is very protective of his employees; the Chief likes that. Turns out that Donald, the evening custodian, is nearing his eightieth birthday; he’s a vet on a fixed income and is hard of hearing, and Dick would prefer he be left out of the investigation unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“Yes, it’s always open,” Dick confirms.
“Even when the store is closed?”
“We have a cleaning crew and stockers in overnight and they use this room.”
“How closely is entry to this room monitored?” the Chief asks. “Because someone put those shoes in the trash.”
Dick gives the Chief a list of store employees, then admits that it would be easy for a shopper in the store to slip into the break room undetected. The break room is right next to the public bathrooms. One would only need to open the door, stuff the shoes in the trash, and close the door. Unfortunately, there are no cameras in the break room or in the hallway where the bathrooms are. “Why would we have cameras?” Dick asks. “Just in case someone pops in to dump evidence from a homicide investigation into the trash?”
The Chief leaves the store feeling dejected. It’s six o’clock on a Friday night in July. Andrea is putting together a family dinner, which means that Chloe and Finn have to put their work and social lives on hold—and Ed does too.
On his way home, he calls Pamela Bonham Bridgeman and asks if he can set up a time to talk to Peter.
“About what?” Pamela asks. She’s blunt to a fault on a good day, and usually Ed appreciates this because they all have business to attend to, and small talk can be a waste of time.
“I need his help with the Vivian Howe case,” Ed says. He takes a breath to slow himself down; he’s probably said too much already. “How old is Peter?”
“Nineteen,” Pamela says.
“I’ll speak with him directly, then,” the Chief says. “Would you please give me his number?”
“He’s at camp in Maine until the end of August,” Pamela says. “Cell phones aren’t allowed and there’s no service even if they were allowed.” She pauses while the Chief’s spirits plummet even further. He can’t get anywhere with this case. “Why on earth would you want to talk to Peter about Vivi’s death?”
“I just have a few questions for him,” the Chief says. “But clearly they’ll have to wait. Thanks, Pamela.”
He needs to ask for help. Investigating homicides isn’t his job anyway; his job is to oversee the department. But he misses actual police work and he feels connected to this case, not only because Vivian Howe was a local （and Andrea’s favorite author） but also because he wants to clear Cruz’s name.
Ed calls the Greek. “The Greek” is Nicholas Diamantopoulos, a Massachusetts State Police detective.
“Nicky,” the Chief says. “I could use some advice.”
“I’m on vacation, Ed,” the Greek says. “I’m lying on Mansion Beach on Block Island. I got here forty minutes ago and I’m not due back at the station until a week from Monday.” The Chief can hear a female voice in the background. The Greek is very, very popular with the ladies. “Can this wait ten days?”