“Janie’s got a gun? You got a permit for that?” Callie asks.
“Yes we do, though someone should arrest you on the basis of that pun alone. A Winchester semi-automatic, fully compliant with all legal requirements, thank you.”
Callie looks at Jane, surprised. She hadn’t known anything about Jane learning to shoot. Jane just shrugs.
Callie shifts in her chair, restless for an opportunity to talk to Frank about what she learned about Jenna. He had been chief when Baby Doe was found. “Speaking of legal matters, I had a run-in with my mother yesterday.”
“Oh, no work talk.” Lorraine flaps her napkin. As though to shoo away a fly. Jenna, a pest, something that could spoil their dinner.Lorraine, with her smooth French twist and gold jewelry: the diamond studs, the locket with her boys’ school pictures inside, an elegant little watch on one wrist and a charm bracelet on the other, heavy with mementos. A woman with so much good fortune to commemorate it nearly weighs her down.
“I heard a story about her, something I hadn’t known before. About a baby. Cold case. Is it true?” She tries to keep her voice light, even though she’s brimming with questions for Frank. What were his theories? Why didn’t he push this one more when he was chief?
Frank tents his fingers. “Unfortunately, yes. It was an awful thing.”
“That is a horrible story. Do we have to talk about this?” Lorraine says.
Having crossed Lorraine once already, Callie figures she might as well press on. “No leads ever on this one?” Jane gives her a look from across the table. She knows the expression well.Tell me later.
“No work talk! Do I need to remind you that you’re retired, Frank?”
Retired, Luke mouths at Callie, making air quotes with his fingers. Callie can’t help but smile. As she was first getting settled it was nice that Frank came by the station so often, or called in to tell Callie about a disabled vehicle or illegal hunting activity. But lately she wishes he’d give her a chance to find her footing, do things her own way.
Lorraine rises, clears their plates, and waves her hands when Callie tries to help, her jewelry jangling.
Lorraine retreats to the kitchen and Frank leans forward, conspiratorial, his hands knit together. “We didn’t really have the resources or the manpower to go deep on it, the Baby Doe case. We sent it up to Major Crimes, but of course those guys… well, you know how it is. Bigger fish.”
“Enough, I mean it,” Lorraine says, returning from the kitchen, waving a cake knife. Luke widens his eyes as the knife flashes in the candlelight and Callie can’t help but laugh.
“Jesus, Mom. Talk about Major Crimes.”
Lorraine sighs, but reaches out to ruffle Luke’s hair. “Who wants cake? Or tiramisu? Callie?”
“Definitely, Mrs. Caputo.”
A vibration in her pocket. Jane.Luke’s got the hots for you. He keeps looking at you.When she looks up, Luke’s eyes are on her, and he doesn’t look away when he’s caught.
After dessert Calliestands, bids everyone goodnight, citing an early morning.
“That’s right,” Frank says. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. How’d things work out on the tip from last week, by the way?”
“Nothing came of it, but I’m hoping to brief the guys on some new protocols for cultivating informants. I think it will be useful.”
“I’ll come by. I’d like to hear about that.”
“Sure thing.” She squeezes Jane’s shoulder as she passes her chair and tells her to text her tomorrow, that she’ll do their grocery run and come watch Opal after she gets off.
She’s just stepped off the porch when the screen door creaks behind her.
Luke.
“You leaving too?” she asks.
“I’m going to wait around until Damien’s done with bedtime duties. Just came out to smoke.”
“I didn’t know you smoked. Your mom can’t be a fan of that.”
It was a complaint Jane made often. Lorraine Caputo was always on the side of her good, precious boys, who could do no wrong. “Not cigarettes, not anymore at least, and she doesn’t know.” He pulls a skinny joint from the front pocket of his jacket, a silver zippo from his jeans. “I grow a little too. You think planting flowers and bushes pays this well?” He juts his chin toward his truck. A new Ford with a four-door cab, all the bells and whistles. Must have cost at least seventy-five grand.
“You’ve got a license to do that?”
