“That doesn’t make sense. If she was running off, why wouldn’t she take the car with her? If she had no use for it, she could have sold it.”

“It was her way of taunting me. The car was my final gift to her and she rejected it.”

“Dad, please stop. You know what’s going on. There’s a good possibility she’s buried down there. That’s why they’re taking their time, so they won’t destroy evidence.”

He shook his head, his mouth pulled down as though he regretted having to deliver the news. He wasn’t slurring his words, but his brain was operating at half speed and his concentration was, of necessity, intense. He thumped his chest. “She’s not dead. I’d feel it here if she were.”

“I’m not going to argue with you. Can we just get out of here?”

“Sweet Pea, you’re not responsible for the state I’m in. I’m doing this in deference to your mother with whom I drank for many years. This is my farewell. I’m giving up all claim. Violet Sullivan is free.” He gestured with his whiskey, toasting his wife before he drank it down.

I wasn’t sure where his grandiosity was coming from and I couldn’t judge his mood. He seemed dangerous-testy and unpredictable despite the formality of his speech. Daisy shot me a look. Our unspoken pact was to sweet-talk him out of there before he blew. I put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close.

When he realized who I was, he rared back slightly. “So she’s got you here, too.”

“We’re both concerned. It’s late and we thought you might like to finish your drinking at home.”

His gaze was out of focus, giving him a cross-eyed look. “I don’t have whiskey at home. Pastor would disapprove. I live in a church cell that’s fit for a monk.”

“Why don’t we go to Daisy’s? We can take you out for breakfast and then we’ll stop by her place or we’ll drop you at home.”

“You’ve never attended an Al-Anon meeting, have you?”

“I haven’t. That’s correct.”

“This is not your job. It has nothing to do with you. I don’t need to be rescued. I don’t need to be saved. I want to sit and enjoy myself so leave me be. I absolve you of any responsibility.” He waved a hand, airily, absolving me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw BW approaching, and I remember thinking, thank god. He’d had years of experience dealing with Foley drunk. Though both hands were empty, he was clearly in bouncer mode. Jake Ottweiler was two paces behind him.

BW said, “Foley, I want you out of here right now.”