Beach Wedding(36)

She laughed.

“Actually, I went to NYU law school and found myself in the Nassau County prosecutor’s office. About nine years ago, I started to get bored. An agent I knew said they were hiring, so here I am.”

“So did Marvin tell you what I’m trying to do?”

“Yes. You want to reopen the Noah Sutton case,” she said, peering at me closely. “Talk about a bombshell. Why, Terry? I mean, why now?”

“I found something,” I said. “Some new evidence. A cache of it, actually. I want to see if I can shake something loose.”

“Wow, a cache? Really? Marvin mentioned some photographs of the former maid.”

I nodded.

She looked at me very closely.

“Where’d you find this, eh, cache?” she said.

I smiled at her. “A little birdie dropped it off.”

“Of course. I’ve heard of those. A seagull, I presume? Out there on Meadow Lane?”

“You heard, huh? The Rourke family reunion.”

“Crazy, fun townie family done good suddenly scoops up the biggest white elephant on Meadow Lane for the summer?” Courtney said. “Yeah, people are talking, Terry. I don’t know who more. The beautiful people who come in who find it incredibly droll. Or the townie staff faithful who think it’s the coolest thing that’s ever happened in the history of Long Island.”

“There you go,” I said, smiling. “I’ll have to tell my crazy brother his plan is working. Anyway, Courtney, Marvin thought we might be able to help each other out due to the, um, sensitive situation currently going on at the DA’s office. He thought a less direct route in getting the Sutton case reopened was probably my best bet. That maybe you could help me there.”

“Marvin’s a smart man,” Courtney said. “I know one of the good ADAs at County. I’ll contact them and see what they think. I can also coordinate between you and them if you or your little birdie finds anything else. Would that help you out?”

“That would be amazing, Courtney. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“As I’m sure Marvin told you, you have quite a rough row to hoe in front of you here,” she said. “District Attorney Wheaton’s up to his neck in shenanigans with a lot of heavy hitters in the village, including Hailey Sutton, by some of the rumors. So, you’re going to have to come up with some pretty undeniable evidence in order to pressure him to reprosecute.”

“I’ve heard. It doesn’t matter. I’m still going to give it a crack,” I said.

Courtney took a small sip of her wine and nodded.

“I understand, Terry. I remember your dad and your brothers and Erin and your sweet mom at the library. What happened to you guys after the trial was just disgraceful. You’re an old friend and a damn good cop. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I really do. I’ll be pulling for you.”

I squinted at her.

“Who told you I’m a good cop?”

She smiled. “I’ve heard about your antics down there in Philly. Your buy-and-bust records. How you like to be the UC in the stings. Quite the actor, I hear. I also heard about your combat medal.”

I glanced at her. Back in 2014, I shot and killed a meth dealer, a biker who had drawn down on my partner. The idiot thought we were these two guys who had robbed his spot the day before. My old partner was a captain now. I still had nightmares about it where my gun jams or I’m out of ammo and it just goes click.

“I have my little birdie friends, too, Terry,” Courtney said with a wink.



48

When I got back to the beach house, at first I was puzzled at the dozens of cars parked along Meadow Lane in front of it. Then I heard the cheering, and I zipped down the drive and parked and ran upstairs to get changed.

I’d just come down to join everybody already out on the immense side lawn beyond the pool as a big dude in an umpire’s uniform yelled, “Okay, batter, batter, batter!” in a booming voice.

I’d made it, thank goodness. The first official Rourke-Fullerton family reunion softball game was finally underway.

Like everything else Tom had in store for us, all stops had been pulled. He’d had a mesh backstop brought in and chalk lines laid and even a DJ. As the music started along its baselines, a crowd of about seventy-five people sitting on beach chairs and beach towels let out whistles and hollers of approval.

The two teams were quite a combination of cousins from both Mom’s and Dad’s sides, as well as some of Emmaline’s relatives who had begun to arrive from England for the upcoming wedding.

I glanced over at the formal old-money behemoth of a house and smiled as I wondered what Margreth Mackenzie of Sandhill Point would have thought about the mix of Brits and firemen and finance gurus getting buzzed on suds here out on its hallowed grounds. Not much, probably.

Or who knew. Maybe she would have loved it. Maybe after a few gin and tonics, Margreth was a beach blanket party animal, hoop skirt and all.

As people still milled around slowly, I decided to grab an adult beverage myself. A few minutes later, I was sitting in a folding camp chair beside Viv, balancing it on my knee. Between sips of my ice-cold Sam Adams, I watched to my right beyond the curve of the beach where a couple of sloops were cruising south out there in the hot hazy blue distance of the Atlantic.