Scar Tissue by William G. Tapply Read Free Book Online Page B

they were planning to shack up for a few days.”
    â€œI didn’t say they were planning to shack up.”
    â€œRight. Anyway, I was wondering what their parents said about that.”
    â€œAbout their shacking up?”
    â€œAbout their bringing clothes with them.”
    â€œI didn’t tell them about that.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    He shrugged. “Why? To give them something else to think about?”

    â€œYeah,” I said. “Good point. It wouldn’t bring those kids back to life.”
    â€œNo,” he said. “It wouldn’t.” He reached for my hand and gripped it. “Good to see you again.”
    â€œYou, too,” I said. “And if—”
    â€œRight. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. I’ve got your card.”
    My encounter with Sandy kept nagging at me as I drove the back roads home to Boston through the gathering twilight. I had the feeling she knew something. For one thing, she knew that Brian and Jenny had taken clothes with them. According to Chief Sprague, only the police knew that. They hadn’t even told the parents.
    If Sandy knew that, maybe she knew why Brian and Jenny had taken clothes with them.
    Well, as Sprague had said, what difference would it make?
    I couldn’t come up with a good answer to that.

FIVE

    I got back to my apartment around five o’clock. The first thing I did was pour a couple of fingers of Rebel Yell over some ice cubes, take the portable phone into the living room, and call Evie.
    â€œYou still mad at me?” I said when she answered.
    â€œMe? I’m not mad.”
    â€œI thought you were mad at me.”
    â€œI don’t get mad. You should know that. Why should I be mad?”
    â€œUpset, then,” I said. “I got the feeling you were unhappy with me.”
    â€œYou were sad and I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better,” she said. “That upset me, sure.”
    â€œUpset that you couldn’t make me feel better?”
    â€œNo, dummy. I know I’m not Supergirl. I was sad that you were sad, that’s all. Are you still sad?”
    â€œI’m not exactly giddy,” I said, “but I’m better. I talked to Billy and Joey this morning. That evened out my keel a little.”
    â€œI’m glad, Brady. That’s nice.”
    I hesitated. “Um, feel like coming over?”

    She laughed softly. “Tempt me.”
    â€œGrandmother Coyne’s old-fashioned fish chowder.”
    â€œGood enough. Give me an hour.”
    I made the fish chowder while I waited for Evie to arrive. She’d said an hour. I figured it would be two hours, minimum.
    In the microwave I thawed a quart of fish stock I’d made and frozen back in the fall, dumped it into a big pot and added a three-pound slab of fresh haddock cut into two-inch chunks, slivered onions and diced salt pork sauteed in butter, cubed potatoes, canned evaporated milk, salt, freshly ground pepper, and a dash of cayenne.
    It was bubbling on the stove and I was reading the current issue of American Angler in the living room when I heard Evie’s key scratching in the door. I glanced at my watch. She’d made it in an hour and three-quarters.
    She tossed her jacket on the sofa. She was wearing tight black jeans, a tight black sweater, black leather calf-high boots. Her auburn hair looked almost red against all that black.
    I whistled, and she put one hand on her hip and the other behind her head and thrust out her chest. Then she grinned and gave me a goofy, cross-eyed look.
    She tilted up her face and sniffed. “Smells good.”
    â€œIt needs to simmer for another hour or so,” I said. “That’s a hint.”
    She came over to where I was sitting, put her hands on my shoulders, bent to me, and kissed me lightly on the mouth. I reached up with both hands, held her face there, and kissed her properly.
    She pushed her forehead against mine and