"I'm hoping to chat with Cheryl DeMarco," Sunny said.
The Patriarch nodded. He was a smallish man with a smooth, pleasant face and some shoulder-length silver hair that must have taken some frequent color work to maintain.
"Why?" he said.
"Her parents want her to come home."
"You are a private detective?" the Patriarch said.
"Yes."
"May I see something that says so?"
"Sure," Sunny said, and gave him something.
He read and nodded.
"You are not, I hope"--he wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips as if he'd encountered a bad smell--"a deprogrammer."
"No," Sunny said. "Probably don't believe in it, and if I did I wouldn't know how to go about it."
"That's a relief," the Patriarch said. "I can understand why her parents would want her home. Most parents want their children home. But why not simply ask her. Why hire you?"
"They think you are a bunch of whackdoodles," Sunny said.
"Whackdoodles," the Patriarch said.
"Whackdoodles," Sunny said.
The Patriarch smiled.
"I must say, you are direct."
"Surely you must be used to it. A lot of people must think you're odd."
He nodded.
"They do," he said. "And I find it puzzling. There's nothing particularly odd in our teachings."
"What are your teachings," Sunny said.
"We believe in a pervasive benign spiritual presence in the universe. We feel no need to define it more exactly. We believe it is manifest in every aspect of daily life, if one will but pay attention. We oppose anything that clouds our perception of that spirit. We oppose anything that clouds our ability to connect to this spirit. We don't drink alcohol or coffee. We don't permit drug use, including nicotine. We don't believe living creatures should suffer for us, so we are vegetarians."
"No sympathy for the poor turnip?" Sunny said.
"You're teasing, I know. But we are aware that without death, there can be no life. It is a central myth of most religions."
"Death and rebirth," Sunny said.
"Of course," the Patriarch said. "Are you an educated person?"
"I don't know," Sunny said. "I went to college."
"So, yes," the Patriarch said. "We have to consume other living things, or we die. But we try to keep the consumption at the lower end of the chain of being."
He shrugged.
"It's the best we can do," he said.
"You haven't mentioned your teachings on sex," Sunny said. "It's a hot subject with parents."
"Ah, yes," the Patriarch said. "Sex."
"That one," Sunny said.
"Let me ask you what you believe."
"About sex?"
"Yes."
Sunny smiled.
"I like it," she said.
"Yes, most of us do as well. We believe in consenting adults. We believe in sex as an expression of affection, and we disapprove of sex as an expression of pathology."
"Well," Sunny said. "I can certainly see why her parents are horrified."
The Patriarch looked genuinely startled.
"You can?"
"Sarcasm," Sunny said.
"Oh, excuse me," the Patriarch said. "I am often too earnest."
"Better than the reverse," Sunny said. "Where do you get your funding?"
"I am quite wealthy," the Patriarch said.
"Is this your house?"
"It is."
"How'd you get wealthy," Sunny said.
"I inherited my parents' wealth," he said.
"No heavy lifting," Sunny said.
"My parents were a pretty heavy burden when they were alive," the Patriarch said. "But no, I've never had to scramble for money."
"Parents can be a heavy burden even when they are no longer alive," Sunny said.
"So the psychiatrists would have you believe," the Patriarch said.
"But you don't believe them?"
"Psychiatry is superfluous," the Patriarch said. "If we open our soul and simplify our life, the benevolence of the universe will flow into us."
Sunny nodded.
"Would it be possible to speak with Cheryl DeMarco?"
"Of course," the Patriarch said.
12
S
UNNY SAT WITH CHERYL and her boyfriend on the patio in the front of the house, where below them in the harbor sailboats bobbed at their moorings and fishing boats went purposefully. The boyfriend was a tall, husky blond kid with a blank, sincere face. He sat beside Cheryl and held her hand.
"This here is Todd," Cheryl said. "He's my boyfriend."
"Nice to meet you, Todd," Sunny said.
Todd nodded a hard-bitten nod. He was there, Sunny realized, to prevent her from throwing Cheryl over her shoulder and dashing off.
"Are you, honest to God, a private eye?" Cheryl said.
She was small and soft, with a smooth, round face, no makeup, and straight blond hair that hung to her shoulders.
"Honest to God," Sunny said.
"You got a gun?"
"I do," Sunny said.
"Where?"
"In my purse," Sunny said. "Sometimes I tuck it into my stocking top if I'm expecting action."
"You're not wearing stockings," Cheryl said.
"A weak attempt at humor," Sunny said. "Purse is fine."
"How'd you get to be a private eye," Cheryl said.
The boyfriend watched Sunny closely.
"My father is a retired police captain," Sunny said. "I was a police officer for a while. . . . Just seemed a good idea at the time."
"You married?"
"No."
"Ever been?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"None of your business," Sunny said.
The boyfriend looked at her harder. Cheryl shrugged.
"Just asking," she said.
Sunny nodded.
"You like it here?" Sunny said.
"I can't believe they hired a detective to come talk to me," Cheryl said.
Sunny nodded.
"So," she said. "How do you like it here?"
"Here?"
Sunny nodded brightly.
"Here," she said.
"It's very cool here, isn't it, Todd?"
The boyfriend nodded.
"What's the coolest part of it," Sunny said.
"No hassle," Cheryl said. "Everyone here is really, you know, mellowed out."
"No rules," Sunny said.
"Well, a'course, there gotta be rules," Cheryl said.
"What are they?"
"No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking," Cheryl said. "No meanness."
" 'No meanness'?" Sunny said.
"You know, no being mean to anybody."
"Oh," Sunny said. "And if you break the rules?"
"The group has a gathering," Cheryl said, "and decides."
"What's the worst punishment?"
"You have to leave the group."
"How about sex," Sunny said. "Any rules on that?"
"You think sex is bad?"
"No," Sunny said. "I like it."
Cheryl looked faintly startled.
"They got no rules on sex," she said. "As long as you keep it real."
" 'Real'?"
"You know, with somebody you, like, love," Cheryl said.
Sunny nodded. Nothing conflicted with the Patriarch's version.
"So, you're here because you want to be," Sunny said.
"Exactly," Cheryl said. "I'm with Todd. We got friends, a life, stuff to do, people to help us."
"How 'bout twenty years from now?" Sunny said.
Cheryl stared at her for a moment.
"When you were eighteen," Cheryl said, "were you worrying about twenty years later?"
Sunny smiled.
"No," she said. "I wasn't."
"So?" Cheryl said.
"Good point," Sunny said.
She stood.
"Todd," she said, "I want to whisper a couple things to Cheryl over by the railing there. Girl stuff, might be a little embarrassing."
Todd shrugged as if he knew just what she meant. Sunny beckoned Cheryl and walked to the railing. Below in the harbor, someone's yacht, sails loosely furled, was edging in toward the town landing under power. Cheryl came and stood beside her.
"Anything you want to say that Todd can't hear?" Sunny said softly.
"Todd? He's my boyfriend."
"I understand," Sunny said. "But I just need to be sure. Is there any restraint on your leaving?"
"I don't want to leave."
Sunny nodded. "I know that, too," she said. "But if you did want to leave, would there be anything to prevent you?"
"No," Cheryl said.
"And you don't want to leave?"
"God, no."
"I'll take you out now if you want to go," Sunny said.
"I don't want to go," Cheryl said. "Why won't you believe me?"
"I do believe you," Sunny said. "I just have to be sure."
"Well, be sure," Cheryl said, and turned away and walked back to sit beside Todd.
Sunny followed and stood in front of Cheryl.
"If I brought your parents here," Sunny said, "would you talk to them?"
Cheryl made a dismissive sound.
"They aren't going to come here," she said.
"Maybe not," Sunny said. "But if they did?"
"Sure," Cheryl said. "If you stayed with us."
"I will," Sunny said. "But why?"
"They're clueless," Cheryl said.
"And I'm not?"
"You don't seem it," Cheryl said.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Cheryl said. "Most grown-ups are clueless."
"Maybe they just know different clues," Sunny said.
"Whatever," Cheryl said. "Doesn't much matter anyway. They are so totally not going to come."
"Let me ask them," Sunny said, "and I'll let you know."
"I don't mind talking to you," Cheryl said.
13
M
RS. MOYNIHAN let Jesse in. She looked just like Rebecca Galen.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Robbie Moynihan."
"Jesse Stone."
"Please come in," Robbie said. "My husband and I were just having coffee. Would you care for some?"
"That would be nice," Jesse said.
"Follow me," she said.
Jesse followed her through the house, which looked very much like the Galens' house. Her backside looked very much like Rebecca's.
"So, whaddya need from me, Stone," Knocko said, when Jesse was seated.
He was a big man gone soft. You could still see what he was, Jesse thought, though it was disappearing fast. Robbie sat beside him and looked attentive as he spoke.
"Fella named Ognowski was killed around here, couple days ago," Jesse said. "We're just canvassing the neighborhood."
Knocko laughed.
"You're canvassing me and Reggie," he said.
"It's where we've begun," Jesse said. "You know Ognowski?"
"Petey? Sure I know him. He worked for my brother-i n-law."
"Any reason you know that somebody would kill him?" Jesse said.
"Not a clue," Knocko said. He looked at his wife. "You, sweetheart?"
"Petey." Robbie shook her head. "Petey was the nicest man."
"As leg breakers go," Jesse said.
"That's not so," Robbie said. "Petey was a sweet man."
She smiled at her husband.
"Like Francis," she said.
"Francis," Jesse said.
"My real name," Knocko said.
"Where'd Knocko come from?" Jesse said.
"When I was a kid," Knocko said, "I used to be kind of a rough guy."
"Petey do any work for you?" Jesse said.
"I'm retired," Knocko said. "He used to run some errands now and then for Robbie."