"No," Jesse said.

"Can you listen?"

"Yes," he said.

"Lifeguard found Knocko this morning, about six o'clock, sitting upright on a bench under the little pavilion at Paradise Beach. He'd been shot in the back of the head. There wasn't much blood. We're guessing he was shot someplace else and put there. But we don't have an ME report yet."

Jesse drank some coffee to wash down a bite of toast.

"Who's running it?" he said.

"Suit, I guess, and me," Molly said. "Selectmen are in a twidgit looking for you."

"Press?"

"Quite a bit," Molly said. "Knocko was famous, I guess."

"TV?" Jesse said.

"Two stations," Molly said. "Stand-ups by the beach pavilion."

"Scared to death of TV," Jesse said.

"The selectmen?"

Jesse nodded and wished he hadn't.

"'Specially the new guy," Molly said.

Jesse started to nod and stopped himself.

"McAfee," he said.

"Yeah," Molly said. "He's terrified he'll say something wrong on camera."

Jesse finished his first piece of toast.

"Okay," Molly said. "Take your aspirin."

Jesse took two and swallowed them with the remaining orange juice.

"He know where I've been?" Jesse said.

"Suit told them you were out of town, something to do with your ex-wife."

"Better than passed out from strong drink, I guess," Jesse said.

"I guess," Molly said.

She poured Jesse a second cup of coffee.

"You going to eat the other piece of toast?" she said.

"Can't," Jesse said.

"I can," Molly said, and picked it up from his plate and broke off a piece.

"Someday you can tell me what set you off," Molly said, when she had finished chewing.

"Yep."

"But right now we got to rescue the situation," Molly said.

"Okay," Jesse said.

"You up to it?"

"After this coffee," Jesse said.

Molly nodded and ate the rest of the toast.

SUNNY SAT in the vast ornamental living room of a disproportionate McMansion in Concord with Elsa and John Markham.

"You've talked to our daughter?" Elsa said.

"I have."

"How is she?"

"She seems fine," Sunny said.

"She's still in that place," Elsa said.

Elsa Markham was slim and tall with silver-blond hair and a dark tan. Her husband was also slim and tall. But his hair was dark and worn longish. He, too, had a deep tan.

"Yes," Sunny said. "She's at the Renewal place."

"Does she have friends?"

"She has a boyfriend," Sunny said. "He seemed nice."

He hadn't seemed anything to Sunny, but she thought it might reassure them.

"Oh, God," Elsa said. "Unsupervised, of course."

"Well, actually," Sunny said, "there's quite a lot of supervision; at least there are quite a few rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking; interestingly enough, no meat."

"Sex?" Elsa said.

"No casual sex," Sunny said. "Only as part of a relationship."

"Well, isn't that sweet," Elsa said.

"They seem to be close," Sunny said.

"Sex is for marriage," Elsa said. "Not for relationships."

"Really?" Sunny said.

"You don't believe that?" Elsa said.

"No," Sunny said. "I guess I don't."

"Well, we do, and we won't have a daughter who believes otherwise."

"But maybe you do," Sunny said.

"She's been corrupted by this cult."

"It's not really a cult, Mrs. Markham. They don't advocate much that most people wouldn't approve of."

"We are not most people," Elsa said.

Sunny looked at Mr. Markham, who so far had sat in grim silence as his wife talked.

"So, is Cheryl your biological daughter, too, Mr. Markham?"

"Of course," he said. "What kind of a question is that?"

"I don't mean to pry," Sunny said. "Although prying is sort of my profession. But why is her name different than yours?"

"Our name was originally DeMarco," Elsa said. "We changed it as John began to make his way in business."

"Why?"

"DeMarco seemed so North End, you know?"

She wrinkled her nose.

"Johnny DeMarco," she said, and shook her head.

"And Cheryl kept her original name?" Sunny said.

"She took it back when she went off with those people," Elsa said. "Legally, she is Cheryl Markham."

Sunny nodded.

"So, I suggested that perhaps you might visit her," Sunny said. "Talk about this."

"What a dandy idea," Elsa said, and lapsed into a mimicky voice. " 'Would you and John care to join us on the Vineyard this weekend?' 'No, we're going to visit our daughter at her free-love hippie commune.' 'Oh, really? How nice. Our daughters are at Wellesley.' "

"Okay," Sunny said. "Not an idea that resonates."

"No," Elsa said. "It's not. Have you any others?"

Her husband had folded his arms and dropped his chin and looked even grimmer. He's learned every pose, Sunny thought.

"No," Sunny said. "Do you?"

"John?" Elsa said.

"I got an idea," John said. "You send me a bill for your time, and then go about your business."

"I don't wish to have an argument, but I would point out that you didn't hire me."

"Mistakes are inevitable," John said. "But smart people don't nurture them. Send me a bill and then leave us alone."

"And your daughter?" Sunny said.

"We will tend to our daughter."

He stood. Elsa stood. Sunny nodded and stood. No one offered to shake hands.

As she drove her car down the long driveway, she spoke to herself out loud.

"Wow!" she said.

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when Jesse went to Dix's office, but Dix looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. His bald head gleamed. His face seemed newly shaved. His seersucker jacket appeared freshly ironed. His white shirt was crisp. He wore a blue-and-yellow striped tie, perfectly knotted.

He nodded as Jesse sat down, and leaned back slightly in his chair as if settling in to listen with interest.

"I got drunk two nights ago and passed out and wasn't able to do my job the next day," Jesse said.

"That must be painful for you," Dix said.

"It is."

"Tell me about it," Dix said.

Jesse told him. Dix listened quietly.

"What do you suppose brought it on?" Dix said.

"All I can think of," Jesse said. "I was talking to a couple of mobsters who seem to be enjoying very happy marriages to some very appealing women."

"Hardly seems fair," Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

"And I guess I sat there, the other night," he said, "and thought, Why them, not me? And got drunk."

"Why couldn't Jenn have been like these women?" Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

"Exactly," he said.

Dix was quiet. Jesse was quiet.

"What are they like?" Dix said, after a time.

"The wives?"

Dix nodded.

"They're twins," Jesse said. "Identical twins."

Dix waited.

"They live side by side in big houses on Paradise Neck. Houses look alike, inside and outside. Like they were decorated, or whatever, by the same person."

"Pretty close," Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

Dix waited.

"They're very good-looking," Jesse said.

Dix nodded.

"And they love their husbands."

Dix waited. Jesse was quiet.

"How do you know?" Dix said.

"They are so attentive," Jesse said. "They sit beside their husband. They pat his arm. They look at him and listen to him and seem thrilled to be with him."

"Attentive," Dix said.

"Yes."

"Affectionate," Dix said.

"Yes."

"How about the husbands?" Dix said.

"Reggie Galen," Jesse said. "And Knocko Moynihan. Both mobsters. Reggie ran things mostly north, and Knocko had the South Shore."

"They still in the business?" Dix said.

"They say not, but I don't believe them."

"Why were you talking to them?"