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were as tall as she, except Roberto.
    Detective Jackson stood at the shallow end. “Even with the landscapers’ help, they were unable to remove the decedent from the water. They began attempts at resuscitation here on the pool steps until East Hampton Police Department officers arrived on the scene.”
    The detective’s dark jacket and thick-soled black shoes looked out of place against the backdrop of tumbled Cotswold stones.
    Christina had argued with Jason over the cost of importing those stones, and she had won.
    Detective Ben Jackson stared down at them now.
    He was the larger of the two officers and younger by fifteen years, maybe more. It was hard to tell. He was supermodel handsome, his skin a shade of eggplant with the reddish tones that were common in certain parts of the East End. He’d be killer handsome whenhe smiled, Christina thought, but she didn’t suppose he had much cause to do that in his line of work.
    As if to prove her point, Jackson looked up and resumed speaking in a tone that was dry and matter-of-fact. “Two police officers arrived within approximately fifteen minutes of receiving the initial call. They continued resuscitation efforts and began external heart massage. They continued these ministrations throughout the transfer by ambulance to Southampton General Hospital, and for approximately twenty-five minutes inside the emergency room, at which time the attending physician performed an EKG, and the victim was pronounced to have expired.”
    Decedent. Resuscitation efforts. Expired. Death had a language all its own, Christina thought. She tried hard to concentrate on the chain of events that had just been described, but her mind was sluggish. “He must have been dead before they ever found him in the pool,” she said at last.
    Detective Jackson looked at her, his expression giving away nothing.
    McManus was the one who spoke. “It would appear that way. We won’t know for certain until the ME files his report. That’ll probably be in the next day or so. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.” His words were helpful, his tone a few degrees warmer than that of his partner.
    Christina thought again about Good Cop, Bad Cop.
    A dove cooed from its perch on the low branch of a scrub pine.
    It was a mournful sound.
    Christina wanted this episode to be done with, wanted these men to be gone. She didn’t like cops. It occurredto her they wouldn’t leave until she took some action. “Okay.” She pushed her chair back.
    Neither of them made any move to leave. “Okay,” she said again and stood.
    After a moment McManus rose from his chair.
    Ben Jackson walked around the pool.
    Christina made no move to extend her hand. “Thank you.”
    “If we can do anything at all, please don’t hesitate to give us a call,” McManus said.
    “We’re compiling a list of the people who were present in the house early last night,” Ben Jackson said. “Once we have that list, we’ll talk to the people on it.”
    Christina gave a quick nod, studying a stand of Queen Anne’s lace that was blooming in a bed just inside the privet hedge. She had a pretty good idea who had been here last night with Jason. Lisa. Tramp. Low-life bitch.
    Now it was Christina’s turn to keep her face impassive. “Fine.” She hugged herself, shivering against a sudden chill.
    McManus watched her. “Is there anything else you think we need to know?”
    Her mind flashed on the tabloid headlines after Jason’s uncle divorced several years back. Details of the breakup had made it into People magazine, and someone had even written a book about it.
    No, Christina thought, if the police wanted to sniff through her and Jason’s dirty laundry, they’d have to dig though it themselves. “No,” she said, avoiding McManus’s gaze.
    Storm clouds piled up overhead, and she watched, wondering if there would be thunder.
    There was silence. They were watching her, she knew. “Not really,” she said for good measure.