“Okay, um — Michael picked me up at school and we drove to a hotel.”

“Which one?”

“Dayside Inn.”

“Where is that?”

“Near the airport, I don’t know the street. We stayed in all day. Watched movies. The Wedding Planner and Prime with Uma Thurman and Meryl Streep ’cause it’s one of my favorites. Michael was okay with it, he likes chick flicks.”

“Then what?”

“Then the next day we went to Long Beach, visited the aquarium. I’d never been there.”

Silence.

“It’s really pretty,” she said. “The aquarium.”

“What happened after that, Tenecia?”

“Nothing.”

“You stayed in Long Beach.”

“I — this is going to sound… we were just having fun.”

“Where’d you go?”

Audible sigh. “Another hotel. Best Western, near the aquarium. The next day, we came home. I mean, not right away. First we went to dinner at Sizzler, then we drove through Palos Verdes to see the ocean. Then we went to Michael’s house in Granada Hills. I was nervous to go there but it was dark and Michael said it was okay. The next morning, he drove me back to school. I didn’t have a class until one p.m., so we had breakfast on campus, hung out, then he drove to work. Am I in trouble?”

“Not if you’ve been truthful.”

“I have been, I swear.”

“So you were definitely with Mr. Browning the entire weekend.”

“I won’t see him anymore,” she said. “He’s too old for me. Is he in trouble?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, Tenecia.”

“Okay, but I’m really not going to see him. You won’t have to call again, will you? Sometimes my dad picks up my phone.”

“You’re fine, Tenecia.”

“Thank you so much. Thank you.”

Milo said, “Poor kid, we mighta scared her into celibacy.”

“If she keeps away from Browning,” I said, “we did our good deed for the day.”

“Lowlife. Too bad he’s not our guy.”

He called in for messages. Gordon Beverly wanted to know if anything was new. Milo reached him, spent a few tortured minutes trying to be therapeutic.

Another try at Bradley Maisonette’s parole officer produced a third burst of voice mail. Milo left an irate message and dialed Wilson Good’s home number.

“No answer. Screw his flu, let’s go bug the coach.”

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER
19

No cars behind the mesh gate at Wilson Good’s house. No answer to the bell ring.

A call to St. Xavier confirmed that Coach Good was still out sick.

I said, “Maybe he went to the doctor.”

Milo took in the sliver of view between the house and its northern neighbor. “Guy made a nice life for himself… okay, back to the gristmill.”

Sean Binchy waved the Bentley key.

His presence in Milo’s office meant no room to move and rapid oxygen depletion.

Milo said, “Heubel give it up easily?”