*
The Toyota smelled of cigarette smoke, which Daniel Pell hated.
He himself never smoked, though he'd bartered cigarettes like a floor broker on a stock exchange when he was inside the Q or Capitola. He would've let the kids in the Family smoke--dependency in someone else is exploitable, of course--but he loathed the smell. Reminded him of growing up, his father sitting in his big armchair, reading the Bible, jotting notes for sermons nobody would ever hear and chain-smoking. (His mother nearby, smoking and drinking.) His brother, not smoking or doing much else but hauling young Daniel out from where he was hiding, his closet, the tree house, the basement bathroom. "I'm not doing all the fucking work myself."
Though his brother ended up not doing any of the work; he just handed Daniel a scrub bucket or toilet brush or dishrag and went to hang with his friends. He'd return to the house occasionally to pound on his brother if the house wasn't spic-and-span, or sometimes even if it was.
Cleanliness, son, is next to godliness. There's truth in that. Now, polish the ashtrays. I want them to sparkle.
So he and Jennie were now driving with the windows down, the scent of pine and cold salty air swirling into the car.
Jennie did that rubby-nose thing, like she was trying to massage the bump out, and was quiet. She was content now, not purring but back on track. His distance last night, after she'd balked at helping him "kill" Susan Pemberton on the beach, had worked just fine. They'd returned to the Sea View and she'd done the only thing she could to try to win back his love--and spent two strenuous hours proving it. He'd withheld at first, been sullen, and she tried even harder. She even was starting to enjoy the pain. It reminded him of the time the Family had stopped at Carmel Mission years ago. He'd learned about the monks who'd beat themselves bloody, getting a high in the name of God.
But that reminded Daniel Pell of his chunky father looking at him blankly over the Bible, through a cloud of Camel cigarette smoke, so he pushed the memory away.
Last night, after the sex, he'd grown warmer to her. But later he'd stepped outside and pretended to make a phone call.
Just to keep her on edge.
When he'd returned, she hadn't asked about the call. Pell had returned to the material he'd gotten from Susan Pemberton's office, and went online once more.
This morning, he'd told her he had to go see someone. Let that sit, watched her insecurities roll up--taps on the lumpy nose, a half-dozen "sweetheart"s--and then finally he'd said, "I'd like it if you came along."
"Really?" A thirsty dog lapping up water.
"Yep. But, I don't know. It might be too hard for you."
"No, I want to. Please."
"We'll see."
She'd pulled him back to bed and they'd continued their balance-of-power game. He let himself be tugged temporarily back into her camp.
Now, though, as they drove, he had no interest in her body whatsoever; he was firmly back in control.
"You understand about yesterday, at the beach? I was in a funny mood. I get that way when something precious to me is endangered." This was a bit of an apology--who can resist that?--along with the reminder that it might happen again.
"That's one thing I love about you, sweetie."
Not "sweetheart" now. Good.
When Pell had had the Family, tucked away all cozy in the town of Seaside, he'd used a lot of techniques for controlling the girls and Jimmy. He'd give them common goals, he'd dispense rewards evenly, he'd give them tasks but withhold the reason for doing them, he'd keep them in suspense until they were nearly eaten alive by uncertainty.
And--the best way to cement loyalty and avoid dissension--he'd create a common enemy.
He now said to her, "We have another problem, lovely."
"Oh. That's where we're going now?" Rub-a-dub on the nose. It was a wonderful barometer.
"That's right."
"I told you, honey, I don't care about the money. You don't have to pay me back."
"This doesn't have anything to do with that. It's more important. Much more. I'm not asking you to do what I did last night. I'm not asking you to hurt anybody. But I need some help. And I hope you will."
Carefully playing with the emphasis.
She'd be thinking of the fake phone call last night. Who'd he been talking to? Somebody else he could call on to step in?