damn wheels. I’m going to suggest a new code at the next town council meeting. No skates after 8:00 p.m. on weekends.”
“Good idea,” Gail said. “You sure you don’t want me to ride into Micopee with you? I can call Jack to come in and spell me.”
“No. Don’t bother him. I’ll pick up Lou, and he can help me escort Eugene as well as those other two guys at city hall. We’ve just got one holding cell on the island,” he explained to Evie, “and that’s only because Jack insisted on having it built when he became chief of police. So when we’ve got more than one perp, we’ve got to take them to the county jail in Micopee.”
Raised in an area where the jails were generally larger than high schools, Evie simply said, “Oh.”
Billy winked at her. “I’d ask you to ride along, but the front seat next to me will be occupied.”
She smiled uncertainly back at him. “That’s quite all right. I understand completely.”
He slid into the driver’s seat of the cruiser. “I hear you’re staying out at the Pink Ladies.”
“That’s right.”
“Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime, see how you’re doing. I’ve lived in Heron Point a good long while, and I can tell you about the area.”
From the backseat, a nasal voice mimicked, “Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime.” Billy glared over his shoulder through a protective screen. “You watch yourself back there. It’s a dark, lonely ride to Micopee. One more missing person along that stretch of roadway wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow around here.” He nodded to Gail. “You see Evie gets back to her car okay, will you? We’ve got some smart mouths in town tonight.”
“You got it, Billy.”
The two women watched him drive away, and Evie realized she hadn’t responded to his offer. Maybe it was just as well. She heard Gail sigh beside her and turned to look at her. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Isn’t he wonderful?”
Evie didn’t quite know how to answer that. She hadn’t decided if Billy Muldoone was any part of wonderful, though she now knew that at least one woman in town thought he was all that and more. “He seems to be an excellent police officer,” she said, confident that the man she’d just seen in action would have no trouble with the criminals he was hauling off to jail.
AT FIVE O’CLOCK Sunday afternoon Billy drove down Island Avenue in the squad car and convinced himself that it was quiet enough to go home. Most of the tourists had left, and the shopkeepers had pulled their merchandise in from the sidewalks. It had been a busy couple of days, even for an August weekend. The weather had been balmy with no rain, no doubt attracting last-minute visitors.
He rolled down the window and rested his arm on the car door, enjoying the warm refreshing air that flowed through the cruiser and erased the sour smell of cheap alcohol from the inebriated petty thieves he’d picked up. He didn’t know exactly when he’d become the unofficial second-in-command on the police force, but he was proud that Jack trusted him so much.
Thankfully they had a good crew. Gail was a competent cop even if she was sweet on him. Billy admired Gail, but he would never date anyone on the force. Personal relations didn’t mix with official responsibilities, especially for cops. Ricky, the transplant from the Orlando P.D. Jack had hired when he took over, was working out great. Lou was a willing and satisfactory service aide, and among the five permanent members of the Heron Point department and the couple of extras they hired on particularly busy weekends, the town was enjoying low crime and dependable service.
But now, as he was most times at the end of the tourist rush, Billy was tired and ready to settle back into his recliner and sniff whatever his ma was preparing for dinner. Mulligan stew probably, since it was Sunday and she never let her family forget they were Irish.
Beginning to sweat, Billy jacked the A/C another notch, taking advantage of the salty air outside and the cool, recycled air coming from the vents. He took off his hat and tossed it next to him on the bench seat. He could practically smell the roast beef simmering now. He may have some complaints about living with his mother after so many years of independence, but no one would ever catch him bad-mouthing her cooking.
As he approached the turn to Gulfview Road he considered detouring away from the middle of town, where he lived in a hundred-year-old clapboard house on what his mother called one of the prettiest little streets she’d ever seen. Billy would have much preferred the unobstructed view of the water from a property on Gulfview Road. Heck, with the price of real estate escalating in Heron Point, he doubted he’d ever own a piece of the Gulf shore now.
But Claire and Jack did. And so did Hester, whose fancy Pink Ladies cut a flowery trail all the way to the water. Where Evie Gaynor was renting.
Billy turned onto Gulfview Road. Maybe he’d stop and pay Evie a visit. On the other hand, he’d told her he’d call, so that’s probably what he should do.
Since he’d already made the turn and since the water looked so blue and endless and since dinner wouldn’t be ready for at least an hour at the Muldoone house, Billy veered into Claire and Jack’s driveway. He’d give Jack an informal report, maybe have a beer and talk for a few minutes—who knows? Maybe the conversation would lead to the new principal.
He pressed the button on his cell phone that connected him home. “Hey, Daddy,” his daughter answered.
“Hi there, Gemma, what’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing much. Nana’s making me fold my laundry. She says I have to have all my clothes in order by tomorrow morning so she can take me shopping for new school things.”
Clearly detecting the irritation in his daughter’s voice, Billy said, “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? You want new clothes, don’t you?”
“Don’t care one way or the other,” Gemma said. “New clothes just get to be old clothes soon enough, and you end up starting all over again anyway.”
Billy shook his head. Sometimes there was no point arguing his daughter’s logic. “I’m over at Jack’s,” he said. “Tell Nana I’ll be home in time for supper.”
“I’ll tell her. Don’t be late or you’ll be in trouble.”
He could picture Gemma’s finger shaking at the phone—the same sassy gesture Brenda Muldoone had perfected raising Billy and his two brothers. No one should ever underestimate the value of a good finger-shaking. “I won’t be late.”
He stuck the cell phone in his pocket and walked up the few steps to the Hogan’s front porch. Tapping lightly on the door, he hollered, “Anybody home?”
He heard a youthful squeal and a voice calling out that she’d get it. In a few seconds, the door swung open and Billy stared down at Jane, Claire’s daughter. The girl’s deep brown eyes smiled right along with her mouth as she announced over her shoulder, “Billy’s here.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Jane was cute as a button. All sweet-smelling and sparkly in pink shorts with ribbons in her long dark hair. She was only a year older than Gemma, and Billy often regretted that the two girls had never seemed to hit it off.
“How are you, Jane?” When
