All Shots

to you,” Mellie said. “God is everywhere, and God hears everything.”
    Holly Winter wore one of those boxy linen outfits beloved by academic women, a loose dark skirt with a white shell and a mannish jacket. From the pocket of the jacket she pulled a cell phone. As she flipped it open, Grant dropped his knife to the floor and, as if mimicking Holly Winter, pulled out a small semiautomatic.
    Holly Winter pointed a finger at me. “Look what you’ve done. This is all your fault, you and your dogs with their big stomachs, you and your lucrative family business.”
    Instead of asking her what she could possibly mean, I ignored her. “We’re going to cooperate,” I told Grant, who was pressing his pistol to Sammy’s beautiful head. “Mellie, go and get everything the girl left here. Strike’s toys. Anything else the girl left with you.”
    “Go ahead and shoot the dog,” Holly Winter said. “Good riddance.”
    “Stay out of it!” I told her. “You have no idea what’s going on. All we need to do is give him what he wants. Now stay out of it.”
    “Traces of methamphetamine were found on the victim’s possessions,” she said. “Possessions including clothes from L.L.Bean. You’re not the only one who talks to the police. L.L.Bean. Maine. The DEA’s task force on keeping that very same drug out of Maine. The long border with Canada. The long coastline. The picture of your dog. The Ellsworth American is on the Web. Your mother and her marijuana is the least of it.”
    Again resisting temptation, I restrained myself from pointing out that L.L.Bean ships everywhere and that Gabrielle was, in fact, my stepmother. “Your bitch ran off,” I told Grant. “She ran away.”
    Entirely misinterpreting my use of a technical term for canine females, Holly Winter said, “Ran away? You shot her!” Pointing at Grant, she said, “I’ve got news for you. While you were busy implanting your drugs in the dogs, your wife here was running around with that redheaded cop the two of you work with.”
    In desperation, I said, “This is not my husband. This man is not a vet. My husband does not implant drugs in dogs’ stomachs. Yes, drug smugglers do it, but I am not one. And I am not having an affair with Kevin Dennehy. Now stop! Mellie, just get the dog toys. And everything else.”
    Grant moved the pistol away from Sammy’s head, pointed it at Mellie, and shouted, “The toys. Like she says. Now!” The words had barely left his mouth when the front door flew open and in burst a man I’d never seen before. In his hand was a revolver. He was younger than Grant and blessed with the rugged good looks of the young Paul Newman; the breathtaking bone structure, the short, curly brown hair, the irresistible mouth, even the baby blues. The second he spoke, I knew that he was from Down East Maine; you can’t miss the accent. “Grant, you son of a bitch, where’s Holly? How the hell did you know—”
    “Calvin, cool it,” Grant said. “I can explain everything.” The name Adam had spoken: Calvin.
    “Holly Winter,” the statistician said.
    “Yeah,” the newcomer replied. “Where is she?”
     

CHAPTER 32
     
    “The little slut took off on me,” Grant whined. “Look what she did to me first, Calvin. Waited until I was sick and then beat the shit out of me with a two-by-four, fractured my goddamned skull, and ruptured my spleen. Left me alone in the cabin. I was there for three days before I managed to crawl to the road and get out and get to the hospital. She took off with my money and my merchandise and my blue bitch. But I lucked out. She was stupid enough to take my truck, too.”
    Mellie looked relieved to understand a piece of what was happening. “The machines come and clean the streets, and I don’t like it.” Almost reluctantly, she added, “Holly said bad words.”
    “Her truck was towed?” I asked.
    “It was my damn truck,” Grant said. “She stole it.”
    I said, “And the city towed it because that side of the street was being cleaned. And she couldn’t reclaim it because it wasn’t hers. So the city sent you a notice that it had been impounded. With the address where the truck was parked.”
    Grant had had enough. “Calvin, I’m on private, personal business here.” He was now aiming his weapon as well as his words at the newcomer. “Get out.” He pointed the weapon at Mellie. “And you, lady, I’m telling you, get my stuff, and get it now.”
    I can sense the beginning of a