"Well, we have the Swingers Hotline, but that's private information, too."

"I respect that, but we can subpoena that and your credit card customers, so we're asking you to save us all some time, okay, Mickey? Just a list of names, and it won't go anywhere else."

"Jeez, I'm sorry, Officer, but I really can't do that. I mean, no offense, but it's not something I'm authorized to do."

"Okay, then maybe you can tell me where we can find Mr. Vernone."

"Who?"

Steve checked his PDA device. "Nuncio Vernone. He's the owner, right?"

"Oh, Nonny. Yeah, but he's out of town."

"Well, maybe you can call him."

"I'm not sure where he is."

Talking to DeLuca was like addressing a slow child. "Okay, then maybe you can tell us your date of birth, if you remember it."

"Why you wanna know that?"

"Just wondering."

DeLuca looked from Steve to Neil then he told him.

"And you spell your name D-E-L-U-C-A and the first name is Michael, right?"

Mickey hesitated. "Yeah."

Steve punched some keys. "How long have you been the manager here?"

"Three months, why?"

"And before that you were bartender at Wolfs in Cranston, Rhode Island."

"How do you know that?"

Steve raised his handheld. "Law Enforcement Agencies Processing Systems, National Crime Information Center Network. Very handy. Does Mr. Vernone know that you have twelve prior charges plus two arrests for possession of a controlled substance? Did he know that when he hired you? No? Then how about the evening of December 17 of last year when you were charged with violation of the Rhode Island liquor laws by serving alcohol to a minor, which resulted in Wolfs being put on probation for a month? Does he know about that?"

"I don't know. Yeah, he does. Maybe not. I don't know."

"Uh-huh. Does Mr. Vernone own a cell phone?"

"Yeah."

"May I please have the number?"

"We're not supposed to give that out."

"Mickey, we are investigating a serious crime and there are laws against withholding vital information in the pursuit of a criminal case, and homicide, let me remind you, is at the top of serious. Unless you want to come down to headquarters and call your boss from there and tell him that we're investigating the murder of one of his employees and that his manager is not cooperating, and then it gets in the paper that-"

"Okay, okay. I'll call him."

"We also want a list of all your employees."

"Yeah, okay."

"Fish in a barrel," Steve said as DeLuca scurried. He could see that Neil was fidgety and wanted to leave. Every so often he'd eye the waitresses or glance at the wall photos of the naked dancers. "You okay?"

"Fucking place makes me want to go home and take a shower is all."

"Yeah, me, too."

DeLuca returned. "I guess it's your lucky day, guys. Mr. Vernone was very cooperative." He handed Steve three sheets of paper with a list of subscribers.

"MerBabes Revue. Catchy."

DeLuca smiled proudly. "Yeah."

"We'll be back to talk to other staffers. In the meantime, if you think of anything else that might help, please give a call." He handed Mickey his card.

"Yeah, sure." Then Mickey pulled out of his wallet his own business cards and snapped one to each of them. "If you guys like exotic dancing, you come back and ask for me, okay? You come as my guests. We got the best buffalo wings anywhere. And lady friends are welcomed."

They left and stepped into the bright light of the open beach. Steve looked at the marquee photo of Terry. "What a waste," he said.

"Yeah," Neil said, and headed for the car.

18.

DERRY, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

FALL 1970.

He continued sleeping with Lila for weeks while his dad was away. But that came to an abrupt end when Kirk returned unexpectedly one night and found them together in his bed.

Kirk spent the night in the guest room, waiting until the next morning to approach her. They were in the kitchen, Lila still in her bathrobe, his father in a golfing outfit ready for tee time with friends at nine. Even though the TV was on, he heard their exchange from the family room, where he was drawing in his sketch pad.

"He just turned ten, for Christ sake."

"He wasn't feeling well. And please stop taking the Lord's name in vain."

"And stop deflecting my point. Where the hell are your boundaries?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that he's too old to be sleeping with you."

"He couldn't sleep because of his headaches. I'm just giving him a little TLC."

"We have medication for the headaches."

"And sometimes it doesn't work."

"Well, double the dosage. And if that doesn't work we can call the doctor for something stronger. In the meantime, he sleeps where he belongs, in his own bed in his own room."

"Yes, your highness. Whatever you say, your highness."

"Lila, I don't like your sarcasm."

"And I don't like your telling me what to do all the time."

"Only because this TLC crap has more to do with you than him."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard what I said. Letting him sleep with you is unhealthy. It could warp him."

"Warp him? What, a little tender loving care? Maybe you should try it sometime. Life would be a lot better around here if you did."

"Here we go again. Let me put it to you straight. He sleeps in his own bed. Period."

He could tell that she was too wounded to respond.

"He's also my kid."

"Yeah, on paper," she snapped.

"Go to hell, Lila."

"No, you go to hell. You're never around, and when you are, you're too tired or too damn busy to spend any time with him."

"Because my schedule is beyond my control."

"You have weekends. You have days off, and I don't see you going out and doing things with him, acting like a normal father."

"Who do you think gave him those model airplanes and games, huh?"

"You do that to keep him out of your hair so you can go golfing or fishing with your flyboy buddies."

"That's a fucking lie."

"It's not a lie, and keep your filthy words to yourself. He's right in the other room."

There was more muffled exchange, then he heard Lila say, "Your son doesn't even know you. You're like a stranger to him. I'm the one bringing him up. Me."

"More bullshit. I do things with him all the time."

"Is that right? Then when was the last time you played catch with him, huh? Or read him a story? Or took him to a movie? Or to the beach? Or drove him to camp?"

"And who's the one who puts the beans on the table?"

"I'm trying to land something, and you know it."

"If you want to land something you might consider a real job."

"Acting is a real job."

"Only if you have talent."

"I have talent."

"Yeah, for taking your clothes off. Just ask your daddy."

Lila made a sharp cry of outrage. "You bastard. My daddy was a pig of a man."

She made another muffled outburst, then he heard Kirk leave, the door slamming behind him.

From the large armchair in the family room he had heard the whole exchange. He turned off the television and went into the kitchen. Lila was folded into a chair, crying. He grabbed a handful of napkins and went to her. When she gained control she put her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"That's okay." He pulled her head to his chest the way she did when he got his headaches. But he didn't have soft pillowy breasts she could bury her face in.

"You came to comfort me."

He didn't know how to respond so he nodded.

"You're so considerate." She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth. "Did he scare you?"

He nodded. He had heard them fight before, but it was through the walls of his room-muted exchanges. He had not witnessed Lila in tears nor had he heard her swear before. She was very religious and had taught him that swearing was a sin.

"I'm sorry. Your daddy can be so mean at times. But you're a sweetie."

"When's he coming back?"

"This afternoon."