Page 96 of The Instruments of Darkness

“The firebomb was thrown from your vehicle.”

For the first time since our arrival, Pinette looked flustered.

“You must be mistaken,” he said.

“You have a distinctive two-tone car, Antoine. It was spotted fleeing the scene. There’s no mistake.”

Pinette drank some juice before wiping his mouth with a napkin. His teeth were curiously small and gapped, causing his dentition to resemble a child’s.

“Who’s the client?”

“Colleen Clark.”

“The one whose kid disappeared?”

“The same.”

“I got no beef with her, whatever she might have done.”

“I never said you had, but you work for Bobby Ocean, and he has a beef with me. To be fair, Bobby has a beef with virtually everyone.”

“I don’t work for Bobby,” said Pinette. “We share certain perspectives on the world, but I’m strictly self-employed.”

“So either Bobby paid you to attack a woman’s home, or you did it of your own volition. Regardless, we have an issue.”

“I give you my word: This isn’t on me. I don’t even know where she lives. What time did this happen?”

Frustratingly, I was starting to believe him. Like I said, Pinette was many things, but a liar wasn’t among them.

“About one in the morning.”

“I was home in bed,” he said. “My girl was with me.”

Pinette had long been involved with a woman named Jesse Waite, out of Saco. I knew Jesse because I’d gone to school in Scarborough with her and her older sister, Kristine. Their father had an issue with the Saco School Department, which led to an agreement that his kids could attend high school outside the district as long as he paid tuition and transportation. Then he died, rendering the disagreement moot and leaving Jesse and Kristine free to go to school closer to home, after which I fell out of touch with them. I remembered Jesse as being bright and charming, and if she’d ever said anything derogatory about people of color, she had not done so in my presence. She and Pinette might have reached an accomodation about leaving politics and race on the doorstep, but that was about as likely as marrying a preacher and keeping religion for Sundays only. Jesse Waite, therefore, had obviously changed a lot since her schooldays.

“And your car,” I said. “Was that with you, too?”

Pinette’s eyelids flickered. He might not have lobbed the firebomb at the Clark house, but he knew who did. He called out to one of the men by the pool table, addressing him as Olin.

“Where’s Leo?” asked Pinette.

Leo was Antoine’s younger brother. I’d seen him around, always in the company of a couple of wingmen who had mistaken him for an alpha male, or a beta with aspirations, and a bunch of generic young women who were too dim to be able to tell the difference. He was a weak man who coasted on Antoine’s fumes, relying on his older brother’s reputation in the absence of one of his own. It didn’t shock me to learn that he might have been involved in the nighttime attack on the Clark house. It was his style, the only surprise being that he’d come at the place from the front instead of the back.

“He went to get a couple of slices at the market,” said Olin. “He ought to be back any minute.”

“Go find him,” said Pinette. “And Olin?”

“Yes?”

“You say nothing to him about our guests, you hear?”

Olin heard, and left through the rear door.

“Did you give your car to your brother last night?” I asked.

“His is in the shop,” said Pinette. “He dropped me home at ten, and wanted to go watch some MMA shit with his buddies. I didn’t see any harm in letting him use the car, because he only lives a block away from me, but it doesn’t mean he then went on a drive-by. We’ll talk to him, hear what he has to say. If he fucked up, I’ll take care of it, not you and your friends.”

I told him I didn’t have any difficulty with that. In fact, it was a relief to learn that Antoine hadn’t been responsible, as it de-escalated the situation. My priority was to ensure Colleen and her home remained safe. If that meant ceding retribution duties to Antoine, so be it.