Page 149 of The Instruments of Darkness

Colleen, when interviewed by police, seemed shocked at the news of her husband’s murder, but admitted to not being especially saddened. The subsequent investigation revealed no evidence of her involvement in the delivery of the wine. It had been purchased using an over-the-counter preloaded credit card, paid for in cash by a bum in Concord, New Hampshire, who remembered only a woman in a surgical mask, the woman claiming to be medically vulnerable and never having regained her confidence following the COVID pandemic.

She had given him twenty dollars for his trouble.

CHAPTER CV

The William Stonehurst Foundation didn’t survive the bad publicity surrounding the activities of Antoine Pinette and his crew, not least their trade in stolen military equipment and weaponry. To save his skin, Bobby Ocean sold out everyone involved, so that even to have had passed Pinette on the street was, thanks to Bobby’s evidence, enough to invite a federal warrant.

Bobby’s lawyers were still cutting a deal to keep him from serving time when Leo Pinette, who had survived the conflagration in Gretton and was out on bail, shot Bobby to death in his office before taking a chair and calling the police to let them know what he’d done.

CHAPTER CVI

A few days after Stephen Clark’s funeral, which his estranged wife did not attend, I received a mid-morning phone call from Erin Becker.

“So someone decided to take justice into their own hands where Stephen Clark was concerned,” she said.

“In the absence of the law investigating him properly, perhaps.”

“He was investigated. He stuck to his story—he didn’t remember Eliza Michaud from his youth, even if he did fuck her—and there was no proof that he was lying. I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking for your thoughts on the manner of his death?”

“None whatsoever. Are you leveling an accusation?”

“When someone dies oddly in this state, you immediately spring to mind. Do you know anything about TTX?”

“Only what I’ve read in the papers.”

“It’s a natural toxin. It’s found in certain fish.”

“And in some snails, worms, and newts,” I said, “although I don’t think I’ve ever seen a newt.”

Becker tried to figure out if I was being funny or not. I wasn’t. I’d never seen a newt.

“Well,” she said, “we’re still trying to establish the origin of this particular dose, but it’s a distinctive way to kill someone. Poison is usually a woman’s weapon. So far, though, your former client is in the clear.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“No, Mr. Parker, I don’t. You might bear that in mind when I become attorney general.”

She ended the call. I stirred the milk into my coffee and carried it to my office. I sat at my desk, the window open to salt and sea. I thought of Sabine Drew, sitting alone in her home, listening for the dead.

“You keep fish?”

“Ever since I was a little girl. I’m quite the expert… It’s a private hobby.”

I took my time over the coffee, then picked up my car keys and drove into Portland. There was somewhere I had to be.

CHAPTER CVII

The sign on the door of the Great Lost Bear said that it was closed for a private event. Inside, the Bear was buzzing, with food laid out on long tables and an open bar. Dave and Weslie Evans were seated at the front of four rows of chairs, guests of honor on the occasion of their retirement after more than forty years. As staff and patrons lined up to sing their praises, Dave and Weslie bore the distinctive expression of bewilderment that the naturally kind wear when confronted with public testaments to their decency, as though unable to recognize themelves in what they were hearing.

In one corner sat the Fulci Brothers, wearing T-shirts commemorating the event, theirs being the only ones made in 4XL. Beside them was Byrd Jackson, formerly the Bear’s restaurant manager and now one of the new owners. She was speaking intently to them and they were listening with equal concentration. When she was done, she kissed and hugged them both. They caught me looking in their direction, raised their glasses, and smiled. I saluted them back as Byrd came over.

“Thanks for being here,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Behind me, the door opened, and Angel and Louis entered. “Neither would they,” I added.

There was a final speech, and a last round of applause, before a band began to play. I saw Macy working her way through the crowd to be with me.

“What were you saying to Tony and Paulie?” I asked Byrd.

“I was putting their minds at rest. They were worried they wouldn’t have a place here, now that Dave and Weslie are leaving.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them that they’d always have a place at the Bear,” she said. Her eyes were shining. “After all, where else would they go?” She kissed me on the cheek. “Where else would any of us go?”

And the band played on.