It was 5:30. They’d arrested a kid for assault, for punching his girlfriend in the face in the parking lot of the Back Bay supermarket. Called MEDCU for a guy who was on the sidewalk at Longfellow Square, depressed and threatening to slash the arteries in his ankles. Different.

They cited a homeless guy for pissing on a fire hydrant on Forest Avenue. (“Dogs do it.”) Arrested a rich lady from the suburbs—khaki skirt, lime-green sweater, pearls—on Congress for drunk driving and refusing to submit to arrest (slapping Brandon’s hand away). Standing by her Lexus SUV, Miss Pearls claimed she’d had one Grey Goose martini, but then she blew a 0.28, three times the legal limit. At the station, she said Brandon had groped her breast as he put her in the police car. Kat said in writing that nothing of the kind had occurred.

“Like cops don’t always stick together,” the woman sputtered as they rolled her fingers in ink. “I want my lawyer right now, you hear me? I’m gonna own you, you limp-dick loser.”

Underneath they’re all the same, Brandon thought. He said nothing.

At 6:05 he pulled into the marina lot, took his kit bag from the truck, locked it. He glanced over, saw a silver Mercedes SUV, a sticker on the back window: a blue flag with a yellow trident. Like Poseidon, Brandon thought, as he buzzed through the gate and walked across the yard, down the float. From a distance he could see people in the helm area of Bay Witch. Then he could hear reggae music, laughter. Mia’s voice, another woman, then a man, a big hearty laugh.

Lily and Winston.

“Damn,” Brandon said.

He sighed, then took a deep breath, tried to gear up. Stepping aboard, he crossed the aft deck, started to move forward to the stateroom. Mia called: “Brandon, come on up. Lily and Winston are here.”

He put his bag down, climbed the ladder to the helm, tried to get a smile on, stepped into the lounge.

“Hey, baby,” Mia said, coming out of the captain’s chair. She gave him a hug, a wine-flavored kiss. Lily and Winston smiled from the L-shaped settee, in shorts and flip-flops, half-full wineglasses in hand.

“Hello there, Brandon,” Lily said.

“Love the boat,” Winston said. “We’re ready to move in.”

“Spend a winter aboard,” Brandon said. “That’ll cure you.”

“Oh, she’s just lovely,” Lily said. “Boats are female, right?”

“And the name, Bay Witch,” Winston said.

“Boat names are so lame most of the time,” Mia said. “There’s one here, Boys ’n’ Gulls.”

“This is just spot-on,” Winston said.

“I told Lily and Winston we’d take them out on the bay soon, Brand. Brunch on Great Diamond?”

“Sure,” Brandon said.

“Oh, you’d love it,” Mia said, a burble in her voice that told Brandon this was her second glass. “Mimosas on the back deck.”

“Aft,” Brandon said.

“He’s always correcting me. Why don’t they just say front and back? You know what I mean.”

“Heave to there and shiver the forelock, matey,” Lily said. “You are the first mate, aren’t you, Mia?”

“I’m not the first but I’m the best,” Mia said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Did I say that?”

They all laughed and Brandon smiled, figured maybe they were three glasses in. He must have looked weary because Lily said, “Hard day at the office?”

“Oh, the usual nonsense,” Brandon said.

“I don’t know how you can stand it,” Lily said. She crossed her long, tanned legs and smiled. “I mean, some of the people you must have to deal with.”

“Somebody has to do it,” Winston said. “Brandon stands between us and anarchy.”

“Or at least a crime wave,” Mia said.

“You’ve been in the Old Port on a Friday night,” Winston said. “Man, it’s craziness.”

“Where’s your gun, Brandon?” Lily said. “Your billy-club thing and handcuffs?”

“I left them below. After a whole day lugging that stuff, you’re ready to get rid of it.”

“Sometimes in the morning I know it’s Brandon coming down the dock because I can hear all his stuff creaking,” Mia said. “You want a beer, babe?”

“I think a shower first.”

“Lily and Winston asked us to come to the restaurant tonight for dinner.”

“Our treat,” Winston said. “After what happened at the house.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Brandon said.

“No, we absolutely insist,” Lily said. “And Winston is trying out a new assistant chef, so he may actually be able to sit with us.”

“Eight o’clock, honey,” Mia said. “That gives you time to wind down.”

She turned in the captain’s chair toward Lily and Winston.

“Sometimes Brandon needs a little transition time,” Mia said. “To go from criminals and all of that to regular people.”

“I’m sure,” Lily said. She sipped her wine, eyed Brandon. “Hey, I heard about the mother of that baby, the one that disappeared?”

Brandon looked at her.

“What about her?” Mia said.

“It was on the radio,” Lily said.

“I’ve been writing,” Mia said.

“She jumped off the bridge,” Lily said.

“Oh, my God,” Mia said.

“Man, that’s just too sad,” Winston said.

“What happened, Brandon?” Mia said.

They looked at him. He told them. Hundred words or less.

“Oh, my God, the poor thing,” Lily said. “She probably blamed herself.”

“And the baby was maybe the one good thing in her life,” Mia said. “Guys come and go, her family totally dysfunctional. Drugs and alcohol.”

“But she created this baby,” Lily said. “They couldn’t take that away from her.”

“The one thing she had accomplished,” Mia said. “And then she messes that up, too.”

“And it’s too much for her to take,” Lily said. “The last in a long string of disappointments.”

“You know we’re with a writer,” Winston said.

“So where is the baby, Brandon?” Mia said. “Do they have any idea?”

“I think they is Brandon,” Lily said. She smiled at him, switched legs, a little flirty now. The wine, Brandon thought.

“Just tracking down leads,” he said.

“I just figured it was one of those custody things, you know?” Mia said. “The dad decided he’d grab the kid and take off. Is that what they think?”

“Still checking things out,” Brandon said. “The chief had a press conference, looking for tips from the public.”

“So they don’t know anything,” Winston said.

Brandon looked at him, didn’t answer.

“Oh, I know,” Lily said. “You can’t talk because it’s a—what do they call it? An ongoing investigation.”

“Very good,” Brandon said.

He said, “Great seeing you,” and headed for the ladder. When he turned to go down, he glanced back, saw Lily watching him over her glass. He heard Mia saying, “Is that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard? The baby disappears and she jumps off the bridge. What if they find the baby tomorrow?”

“And then he has no mom,” Lily said. “How could she do that?”

Good question, Brandon thought as he started down the ladder. He pictured Chantelle, the look of utter devastation on her cracked-out face when it had sunk in that the baby was gone. He stopped, his head above the deck. He heard Lily, a little drunk and loud, say, “I’ve got it. She knew the baby was dead. And she couldn’t keep up the lie.”

Then Mia, “I’ll bet it’s tiring to live a lie like that.”

And Winston, “I’m sure it would be. Just you and your secret, all alone.”

They all drank and chatted, like it was a TV show they were discussing, Brandon thought. He continued down the ladder, down, down, down.