Deep Freeze (Virgil Flowers #10)(13)

“I guess that would depend on . . . your personal . . . perspective,” Clarice said.

—

Griffin said that she was staying at Ma and Pa Kettle’s River Resort, which was, she said, eight rooms behind Ma and Pa Kettle’s Restaurant and Lounge.

“Stay away from the vodka,” Virgil said. “It might have a few uncertified ingredients.”

“I’d be happy to stay away from the whole damn state if I can find Jesse McGovern . . .”

Clarice: “Say, does Ken talk?”

Griffin said, “Some do. Not this one. But they’re all special,” she said. Ken’s most prominent appendage was upright, and she pushed it down: another switch. Ken’s head began to vibrate.

They all looked at it for a moment, then Clarice said, “Ohh!”

Virgil: “I always assumed Ken was gay. But that . . .”

“There’s also a Missionary model, and a BJ model, which is their most extreme version. Those do have recorded messages, and they all vibrate,” Griffin said. “You wouldn’t want to hear what they say.”

“I kinda would,” Johnson said.

“He’s a pervert,” Clarice said to Griffin. “That’s why I stay with him.”

Griffin gave Johnson a testing look and said, “I can see that in him. You’re a lucky girl.”

“Everybody, shut up,” Virgil said. To Griffin: “What exactly have you done so far?”

Griffin outlined her investigation, which had produced nothing useful, except some UPS shipping labels that came from a variety of towns, all in a wide half circle around Trippton, but none from the Wisconsin side of the river.

When she was done, Virgil said he’d make some calls to his sources in Trippton, and back her up if she found anything on her own. Clarice told Griffin about an outdoor store where she could get some boots and how to get there. “Buy some Sorel’s. S-o-r-e-l.”

“I will,” Griffin said. “I hope I can get out the driveway.”

“You got a rental?” Johnson asked.

“Yeah, a Prius.”

“Jeez, that’s like driving an ice skate,” Johnson said. “Got those hard little tires . . . You better not be on the road if it starts snowing.”

—

Griffin finished her hot cider, pulled on her coat, said, “Back to the iceberg,” and left. They watched from the window until she turned onto the highway, and Virgil looked at the other two and said, “You guys were lying through your goddamn teeth. Where’s Jesse McGovern?”

“Couldn’t tell you that,” Johnson said. Clarice shook her head.

“What’s going on here?” Virgil said. “Goddamnit, Johnson . . .”

Clarice said, “You haven’t been here much in the winter. Next time you drive through town, check it out. If you don’t already have a job here, there’s none to be had, unless somebody dies. Jesse’s found a way to bring in some money for a dozen or so folks that don’t have any. I’ll tell you, Virgil, you’re a good friend and all, Johnson’s best friend, but you won’t find out about Jesse from us.”

“She’s like Jesse James,” Johnson said. “The outlaw heroine.”

“She good-looking?” Virgil asked. Outlaw heroines in the media age usually were.

Johnson laughed and said, “Yeah, she is. She really is.”

Clarice changed the subject. “What about Gina? What’d you find out, Virgil? Have you been to her house?”

Virgil told them about his visit with the medical examiner. When he mentioned the body bruising, Clarice and Johnson looked at each other, considering the possibilities. Then Clarice shook her head and said, “I don’t doubt that it happens here, with the long winters, but I don’t know who’d be into it.”

“I experience enough pain cutting timber,” Johnson said. “And if I tried paddling Clarice . . .”

“You’d have to sleep with both eyes open,” Clarice said.

“I’ve dealt with sex crimes, but this . . . I’ve never done anything like B and D people, where it’s voluntary,” Virgil said. “I need to do some research, I guess. I mean, do they tend to violence? Or are they just playing? Or what?”

“You get a thrill out of spanking somebody hard enough to leave bruises, I think you might get excited by violence,” Clarice said. “Especially if the . . . spankee? . . . is tied up and helpless. And even if that’s voluntary, there’s something wrong in that somewhere.”

“I hear you,” Virgil said.

“Got a thought for you,” Johnson said. “When you’re doing your research, I wouldn’t go to the library and ask for a book about it. The town is not all that big, and you might not want that kind of reputation.”

Virgil said, “I don’t know. Could bring me some compelling new local contacts.”

“Since it’s B and D, it’d even be heavy on the ‘compelling,’” Clarice said.





SIX That night, in his regular pre-sleep contemplation of the mystery of God’s ways, Virgil thought about the unfairness of personal appearance. When he asked Johnson if the Barbie-O maker Jesse McGovern was good-looking, he hadn’t been asking idly.