Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

that Jerry has the papers. Whatever all that means.”
    In Weston, Smith parked the car in the lot near a grocery store. “I’m just going to run into Peter’s Market for some chicken salad and stuff. Twoey’s driving down from Boston with lobsters for dinner. I’ll get some baking potatoes.... Do you want to come in with me?”
    Wetzon shook her head. “No, thanks. Supermarkets don’t turn me on. Just bring back something to eat, and fast.” She wanted to think about the letter and the missing guns. After Smith left, she got out of the car. The sun was warm on her face. She shaded her eyes from the glare and looked around. The local market was busy with a steady traffic of shoppers, those departing carrying an assortment of brown bags, all heading for Mercedes, Jaguars, BMWs.
    Why would Tabitha have taken three guns? All she needed, if she was going to scare or even shoot someone, was one. What had she given to Jerry? All three guns? The papers in the hatbox?
    Maglia was the pivot. He was Rona’s alibi, Tabitha’s safe house, not to mention Brian’s friend and mentor, if you were to believe him. He knew more than he was telling. She had to think of a way to approach him. A brisk gust of wind swirled dead leaves and dirt, whipped trees, and jostled the brown fedora off an elderly man’s head. Several people scrambled to recover it, and when the fedora was once more in its place, Wetzon smiled. If you were unlucky enough to lose your hat in New York, it would be instantly run down by a city bus or trampled to death by people rushing to their destinations.
    She got into the car and punched up the radio, settled back wearily, and closed her eyes. Catch a quick catnap, all the while letting the right side of her brain do its work.
    “... consider that your behavior may be setting him off. What happens just before he...?” Familiar voice. She listened for another minute. Dr. Jerry.
    “Like goes ballistic?” The other speaker was young.
    “All right, Evie. That’s a good word. What sets him off? Think about it. What did it the last time?”
    “Like when I say we’re going to my mother’s for Thanksgiving, but he takes it okay. Then when I put the meat loaf on the table, he jumps up and like punches me in the face, and I start screaming and he punches me around and like someone calls the cops. It’s always like that.”
    “Where are you living now?”
    “Here. Like where else would I go?” Evie sounded astonished he was asking.
    “Stay with me, Evie. We have to break for a commercial here. This is Dr. Jerry. When we come back, we’ll talk to Evie again, and then I’ll take more calls. I see we have three people waiting to talk to us. Wayne, Didi, and Mona. Stay tuned to ‘Ask Dr. Jerry’ until three o’clock, and don’t forget we’re back again this evening to help you with your problems from ten to midnight. And let me remind you that we switch to Eastern Standard Time in the wee hours of the morning, so turn your clocks back one hour before you go to sleep tonight.”
    Wetzon turned it off. She hated call-in shows, on any topic. It titillated voyeurs and nurtured crazies, and she questioned if they did any good at all except get people all heated up. Still, they were enormously popular and sold plenty of advertising. She looked over at the entrance to the market. What was taking Smith so long? Some chicken salad and baking potatoes? She willed Smith to leave the market. And there she was, just coming through the door with a grocery bag, accompanied by a slim, long-legged woman in black tights, boots, and a long green suede shirt, pushing a cart laden with brown bags.
    Barbara Gordon was talking animatedly. Wetzon got out of the car, and Smith waved at her, calling her over. The two women were heading for a black Mercedes with New York plates. Wetzon followed.
    She came in on Smith saying, “My place is in Campo Beach—on Blue Water Hill.”
    Barbara unlocked the car and popped the trunk. “We’re renting in Wilton, on Clover Drive, to see if we like it. Of course, Jerry’s practice is mostly in the city, but we’re up here every Saturday because he does two shows, and in the winter, well, it’s just, oh, I guess I’m chattering.” She was wearing a green suede beret pulled down over her ears, revealing not a strand of red hair, and chunky Chanel-style gold earrings with gigantic pearls.
    “Wetzon, there you are! Barbie and Jerry live right around here. Isn’t it