Page 38 of Road Queens
“I am not!”
“Okay, okay. It goes like this: There’s an elderly man walking on the beach, and he sees a boy picking up trash and throwing it into the ocean. But when he gets closer, he realizes it’s not trash. There’s about a trillion starfish all washed up on the beach. And the kid keeps picking them up and tossing them back in one at a time.
“So he asks the kid, ‘What are you doing?’ And the kid says, probably with an eye roll because duh, ‘Throwing starfish back into the ocean. Surf’s up, tide’s going out; if I don’t chuck them into the big drink, they’ll all die.’ Asked and answered, right?”
“I like how Loren Eiseley talks exactly the way you do.”
“Shush. Anyway, the man points out there are miles of beach and loads of starfish, so what’s the point when he can’t really make much of a difference? And the kid listens to the buzzkill geezer, then bends down, picks up another starfish, pitches it back into the surf. And he says, ‘I made a difference to that one.’ End of parable.”
“Ah. Thanks for satisfying my curiosity. I’ve wondered for ... for a while.”
“You didn’t have to wonder. Sean, you do know if you wanted to see us again, you could have, right?”
He shrugged. “There never seemed to be a way to pop up in your life without coming off ... um ... without alarming you.”
“Sure, sure, I can see that. I mean, you definitely don’t want toalarmpeople. Much better to go the long-distance-stalking route.”
“Well, when you put it like that ...”
“Please tell me you don’t have an obsession board in your bedroom.”
“It’s not a board and it’s not in my bedroom.”
She stared at him for a beat and then giggled. “Oh my God. I can’t decide if I’m horrified or amused. Or both. Horramused? Hamused? Amorrified?”
“You can see it whenever you wish.”
“Sure, sure. Whowouldn’tgo to a second location with a man who may or may not have an obsession board somewhere in his apartment?”
“Well, the invitation stands.”
“As does my natural and understandable caution. But to get back on topic, Operation Starfish is strictly past tense.” Amanda began rinsing the blender. “And you can probably tell me why.”
“Something mysteriously dreadful happened five years ago, and you guys had to hang it up. Which is why Franklin Donahue was murdered this week.”
“I’m not following.”
“Yes. You are.”
Dammit. He’s right.
“So you’re in this not so much because of the dead guy—”
“Franklin Donahue.”
“—as you are because you feel gratitude and want to keep Cass out of trouble?”
He was already shaking his head. “No. I do feel gratitude. So does my sister; I’m betting she still sends you jellies.”
Amanda took two steps, opened the cupboard opposite them, and gestured like a game show host pointing out a dazzling display of prizes. Both cupboard shelves were jammed with jams. They showed up regularly, ensuring Amanda thought about Dinah all the time. This made her failure to recognize her brother seem especially boneheaded.
He laughed to see the jars, gleaming with dark blues and reds like liquefied sapphires and rubies. Then he shifted mood again, back to intense. “If Cass killed him, she needs to be held accountable—”
Cass didn’t kill anyone. I’m at least ninety-five percent sure.
“—and if she didn’t kill him, someone did, and we should find out why.”
“What ‘we’? If it wasn’t Cass, it’s none of our business.We’renot investigators, private or otherwise. Besides, if we knew who, we’d know why. I’ve got a whole mystery section downstairs that backs that truism. So what do you want from us, Beane?”
