Can it wait ten days? Peter Bridgeman, who sent whatever photo that had Cruz so upset, is incommunicado. When the Chief called Lisa Hitt to see if she’d found anything usable on the shoes, he learned that she was on vacation as well.
“Do you have five minutes so I can run something past you?” the Chief asks.
“Five minutes,” the Greek says. “Four minutes, fifty-nine seconds…”
Hit-and-run, the Chief says. Local author of some note, New York Times bestsellers and all that, killed running on her own street. Forensics has, so far, turned up nothing useful, but then the clothes and running shoes went missing from the hospital.
“First I thought it was just a simple mistake, they got lost or whatever, misplaced. Then the shoes show up in the trash in the employee break room at the local Stop and Shop.”
“Random?” the Greek asks, and Ed can tell his interest is piqued. On vacation or no, the Greek is a professional and an unsolved homicide is catnip to him.
“No, I don’t think so. The kid who called the accident in, name of Cruz DeSantis, works at the Stop and Shop. He was a friend of the deceased’s son, and that morning he was driving over there to talk to the son.”
“Do you think that’s who hit her?”
“No,” the Chief says. “Forensics found blood on his car but only on the handle, not the bumper. The woman had a gash on her leg, so it stands to reason there would be blood on the bumper.”
“Don’t assume,” Nick says. “She could have sliced it on a rock when she hit the ground.”
“He’s a good kid, Nicky,” the Chief says. “I know him, I know his dad, Joe. Joe’s an Iraq vet—”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I think someone is trying to frame the kid,” the Chief says. “The sneakers turning up at his place of employment indicate that. But who is it and why?” The Chief clears his throat. “The kid, Cruz, is Black, so it has occurred to me that race might be a factor.”
“Might be,” the Greek says. The Greek is Black as well—his mother is Cape Verdean. “Still, you can’t discount the kid because you like him, Ed.”
“I’m stuck,” the Chief says. “And I’m late for dinner.”
“Hit-and-run homicides are hard to solve.”
“We live on an island, Nicky. Nobody can get away, that’s the thing.”
“You checked with the body shops?” the Greek asks.
Yes, that was Dixon’s job, but he’d come up empty. All front-fender bodywork repairs since Vivian Howe was killed have corresponding accident reports. It’s entirely possible that someone is just driving around with a dented fender. It’s also possible that hitting Vivian Howe didn’t even leave a dent. “We did, yes.”
“You spoke to the son?”
“I’ve been saving that for last,” the Chief says. “The kid lost his mother.”
“Well,” the Greek says. “Sounds to me like the time for that conversation has come.”
Leo
When Leo finally bumps into Cruz, it’s in the place he least expects: on the docks.
Leo is working at the Nantucket Boat Basin, where he’s a glorified trash collector and errand boy. He has a golf cart and a walkie-talkie and he zips around from slip to slip, bringing ice and taking people’s trash. Leo likes his job, though some of the boat owners try his patience. Still, he knows he’s lucky; the boats are gorgeous, the people are friendly and grateful （most of the time）， and he’s not only outside, he’s on the water. Lots of people would kill for this job.
He has just loaded four bags of trash and one bag of recycling （glass, mostly champagne bottles） into the back of his golf cart when he sees Cruz stepping off a seventy-foot flybridge yacht called Queen Bee.
What?
Cruz has textbooks under his arm. He must have been tutoring a kid on that yacht. Leo thinks about throwing his cart into reverse, but that would look cowardly. Leo feels like he’s being controlled by some outside force as he rolls the cart forward and stops in front of Cruz. He’s not sure what to say.
Leo swallows. “Hey.”
Cruz stares at Leo a second, his face unreadable. “Hey.”
“Were you the one who hit my mom?” Leo asks. “Because if you were, you need to admit it, man.”
“I didn’t,” Cruz says. “I found her on the ground. You can ask me a thousand times, and my answer isn’t going to change, because that’s the truth. If I’d been the one to hit Vivi, I would have told you. There’s no way I could live with myself if I killed Vivi and then pretended I didn’t. I have integrity.”