“Maybe just, I dunno, a coincidence?”
“Officer, what kind of idiot do you take me for?”
“Could be a teenage prank. Y’know, like toilet-papering a tree.” The policeman, an old cop in an old-money suburb, must have seen his share of domestic disturbances. But he’s clearly in over his head with this one.
“Have you seen snakes like that before?” he asks, going back to taking notes.
“Dead ones?”
“No. I mean, is that the kind of snake you see in your garden?”
“We don’t have a garden,” says Ben. He’s right. There’s no garden. Just a deck overlooking the pool that’s overlooking the Sound, a barbecue pit, a sauna, and an outdoor shower. Nothing that a hungry snake would find even mildly tempting.
“It was bloody.That’swhat it was. I’m not even sure it was dead. It was just… oozing. Oh God…”
“Mrs. Harrison—”
“Don’tMrs. Harrisonme!” Amber yells. Her face is red, and she’s shaking. Ben tries to put his arm around her. She pulls away angrily.
“This is allyourfault,” she tells her husband.
“Myfault?”
“You and your—” She stops suddenly.
I wait to hear what she’s going to say. His—what?Clients?Deals?Business associates?
“I don’t know,” she finishes softly. She starts to cry. “I don’t know anything, I guess.” She turns to me. “How was Lily today?”
“Great,” I say. “I think she’s hungry.” Plenty of time later to tell her the whole story.
She turns back to Ben. “Someone must really hate you,” she says quietly. “I mean, someone besidesme.” Then she carries Lily into the living room to nurse her.
“So what doyouthink?” the cop asks Ben. Holding his pad and pencil, he looks like a reporter. “Is somebody maybe trying to send a message?”
Ben turns white. “What kind of message?”
“Oh, you know, like what you see in the Mafia movies. Like that horse’s head?”
I put Lily’s antibiotic in the refrigerator and join Amber in the living room to fill her in on Lily’s fever, the trip to the doctor, and her ear infection. I purposely leave out the drive to the city and back. She’s still so shaken about the snake, she barely registers what I’m telling her. She thanks me for doing the right thing, but her mind is elsewhere. I know I will have to go over all this again.
Meanwhile, I hear the cop telling Ben that this was probably a one-off from somebody he angered. An unpaid worker, maybe, or a former babysitter or lover. Ben seems unconvinced.
“What should we do with the snake?” he asks.
“Get rid of it,” the cop says. “Not worth bringing it infor testing. Doubt fingerprints would even show up on reptile skin.” He snaps his pad closed. “But if it happens again…”
The cop leaves. Ben looks relieved. He was less anxious about the snake outside than about the policeman inside.
So much for my quiet night at home. I’m too keyed up to relax. Might as well go out and clean the hatchback seat now. Maybe I can even help Ben scrub away some snake guts.
I grab a bucket, Lestoil, Pine-Sol, scrub brushes, and a carpet-stain remover, then head to my car. The dog shit has dried, so I scrape it off and put it in a plastic garbage bag. Then I spray and scrub. When I’m done, the stains are still there, but the car smells like pine.
I bring the plastic bag to the black garbage can in the garage and open the top. And there’s the snake Ben tossed in, very bloody and very dead. Then I shiver.
It looks just like the tattoo on the neck of the guy who showed up last week.
CHAPTER 35
