Deegan’s grin faded. “About like you’d expect.”
“Ah. Flared nostrils and no comment.”
He managed a thin smile. “Pretty much. They were deciding whether to see him in the hospital when I left.”
Mollie resisted a knee-jerk negative reaction. She didn’t know what had occurred between Croc and his parents. Maybe they, too, had done the best they could with what they had and had simply tried to save a nineteen-year-old son bent on self-destruction. On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine her parents kicking her out and not seeing her for over two years. They weren’t always tuned in the way other parents she knew were, practicing what their friends sometimes called “healthy neglect.” Discipline was never much more than a knitted brow, and she and her sister had had more freedom early on than most of their friends. But they knew they had their parents’ unconditional love. They took it for granted, as, Mollie thought now, children should. But they instinctively appreciated and never abused that love. It just wouldn’t have occurred to them to do so.
Such was not the case, it seemed, in the Tiernay household.
“What did Kermit do to get tossed out?” Griffen asked.
“He embarrassed the family.” Deegan’s tone was neutral, even a trace of sarcasm impossible to detect. “He flunked out of Harvard for no reason anyone could understand. He just chose not to do the work. Then he had the gall to ask for a year off to sort things out and work odd jobs. My parents said he could go to school or get out.”
“ ‘Get out’ as in ‘you’re on your own but we love you and want to keep in touch’ or ‘get out’ as in—”
“As in ‘we disown you.’ ”
She grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Was he abusing drugs or alcohol?” Mollie asked.
“He got drunk maybe twice that I can remember, but that wasn’t it. He didn’t have his act together at nineteen, and my parents decided the only way he would ever get it together was if they severed all ties. They truly thought they were doing the right thing.”
Griffen snorted in disgust. “There has to be more. Was he lighting cats on fire, screwing the household help? You don’t just toss a kid out and sever all ties because he wants to wash cars for a year. I mean, why not give him the year?”
“Kermit has always had a vivid imagination,” Deegan said. “He’s sensitive, maybe too sensitive. He went against the grain.”
“Yeah, well, now he’s snatching brooches out of people’s pockets.” Griffen shook her head, just not getting it, and turned to Mollie. “How’s this sitting with Tabak?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to him without a cop around since he’s seen Croc…Kermit.”
“Well.” Griffen shook her head, as if trying to shake off the tensions of the past hour. “We’ve got a party to plan—unless you want to cancel.”
Mollie thought a moment, then shook her head. “No, let’s do it. We won’t invite the world, and we’ll keep it low-key. If the police have their thief, there’s no need to worry about him striking again, and it’ll prove that whatever ax he had to grind with me, I wasn’t intimidated. And if they don’t have their thief—” She settled back, breathed in the warm, scented air. “Then maybe he will strike again.”
“And we can catch him in the act,” Griffen said.
Mollie eyed her young intern. “If you don’t want to be involved—”
“No. It’s okay. In fact, it’s perfect. My parents would approve, carrying on in the face of adversity and all that, and Kermit…Croc…” He faltered, his only display of emotion. “I think he’d understand, too.”
“Good.” Griffen sat up and dug in her big leather bag for a clipboard and her laptop. “Then let’s get to work.”
Jeremiah found Mollie on her back in the pool, her toes pointed, her head tilted back, blonde hair floating out around her. Not sure how to work the gate release in the Jaguar, not wanting to scare the hell out of her, he’d called from the driveway, and she’d opened up. She must have scooted right back into the pool. He could see the portable phone on her chair, which was covered, he noticed with a tug of amusement, with a towel covered with the busts of various composers. He recognized Beethoven’s scowl.
“Any news to report?” she asked, barely moving in the still, azure water.
“I’m just back from my apartment. I checked in with the guys and asked them to look after my critters. All considered, reptiles are low maintenance. Albert started to regale me with tales of eating snake in the jungles of southeast Asia.”
“Think he has designs on yours?”
“He assured me not.”
She went very still. “And Croc?”
“Kermit Tiernay is making steady progress. He should be able to make a limited statement to the police tomorrow. It’s not easy to talk with your jaw wired shut, and he’s still swollen, which doesn’t help.”
“Nothing more from the police?”
“Nothing.”
“Any word on when Croc will be released from the hospital?”