Sweetheart (Archie Sheridan & Gretchen Lowell, #2)

“Castle’s tox screen came back clean,” Archie said. “There’s no lab test for suicidal impulses.”


The organ music swelled as the side church door opened. A few people wandered down the stairs into the courtyard. Then a few more. Susan watched as they walked over to the deviled eggs and began eating them, seemingly without concern about salmonella. A sixtyish woman came up to Archie and he kissed her on the cheek.

“Margery,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

It was Parker’s wife. Susan had never met her, but she’d seen her in the church, along with her two thirtysomething daughters, and put it together. Parker had said that his daughters looked like his wife, and he was right. They were all thick-haired women with long necks and erect posture and large eyes that darted back and forth behind heavy bangs. Margery’s hair was silver, her daughters’ brown.

Margery wiped a smear of deviled egg off her mouth. “It was nice of you to come,” she said to Archie. She hugged him, first lifting her thick braid and putting it back behind a shoulder. Then she smiled at Susan. She had pale blue eyes, like Parker’s, and her pale skin paired with her silver hair made her look almost albino.

“You’re Susan,” she said.

“How did you know?” Susan asked. She reached up and touched her turquoise hair. “Oh, right.”

“Quentin thought the world of you.”

Susan felt her eyes burn. “I liked him, too,” she said. She slid a look at Archie, wanting him to signal to her that he would protect Parker’s memory, protect his family from the implication that Parker was at fault.

But Archie was looking past them both to where Debbie stood with the two children near the exit of the courtyard.

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

“Working a case?” Margery asked.

“It’s my daughter’s birthday,” Archie said.





CHAPTER





14


The cardboard pirate hats came flat, so Archie had to fold them into shape and then fit them on each of the heads of the ten first-grade girls, securing them with elastic bands under their chins. There were Mardi Gras beads and Jolly Roger flags and chocolate wrapped up to look like gold coins. The girls mostly forwent the black plastic eye patches. Where Sara got it in her head to have a pirate-themed birthday party, Archie had no idea.

The girls were having a very complicated pretend sword fight in the living room with, apparently, the sofa standing in for a ship. Debbie was plying the parents with wine in the kitchen. Ben had sequestered himself in his room. Archie was on kid patrol, and stood with his arms folded, leaning against the doorway, watching the girl pirates go to war with the pillows.

Sara whispered something in another pirate’s ear and then came running over, slamming against his thighs. “Daddy,” she said breathlessly. “We need you to be a bad pirate.”

Archie knelt down so that he was her height. “I presume that you are all good pirates?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And I’m supposed to fight you?” he asked.

Sara leaned forward with a concerned expression and whispered: “Do you know how to be a pirate?”

Archie stood and picked up a large rubber pirate knife that was displayed on the snack table and he put it in his mouth and said, “Arrrr,” and charged the sofa. The little girls screamed and scattered and then swarmed around him giggling.

Then he heard Debbie’s voice say: “Henry’s here.”

He looked up, still laughing, and saw Henry standing with Debbie in the doorway. “You’re late,” Archie said, smiling. Then he noticed that his friend hadn’t taken off his shoulder holster. Henry knew the rules about guns in the house. So that could only mean one thing. “And you’re not staying.”

Sara saw Henry, too, and sprang from the sofa and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Henry!” she cried, delighted. Henry hugged her back and produced a small, poorly wrapped gift from his pocket and gave it to her. “I just wanted to drop this by,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

She beamed and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him and then scampered back to the sofa-ship.

Henry raised his eyebrows at Archie. “Can we talk?” he said.

Archie could tell from the heaviness of Henry’s gaze that it was bad news. He had been happy for a minute, he thought. That was his mistake.

He handed the rubber sword to Sara and disentwined himself from the girls. They immediately fell behind him and began organizing a plank-walking.

Debbie stood in the doorway, next to Henry, arms crossed. As Archie walked over to him he felt the pain below his ribs start to throb.

“What’s going on?” Archie asked.

Henry hesitated. “There’s been an incident at the prison.”

The pain was gone. Archie straightened up an iota. “Is she okay?”